Page 61 of Fat Forced Mate

She draws a shaky breath. "I felt something when he kicked me. Not—not damage, but pain. I was so scared—"

"We'll have the pack doctor check you," I promise, stroking her hair. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Not ever again.”

She shakes her head against my chest. "I need to finish what I started.”

The ward marker still glows faintly nearby, the light pulsing like a heartbeat. I find myself nodding slowly, though all I want is to bundle her close and take her far, far away from here, to somewhere nothing can hurt her.

"Help me up," she says, determination replacing fear in her eyes.

I support her as she kneels beside the stone marker, one arm still curled protectively around her stomach. "What do you need me to do?"

"The wards need both kinds of power," she explains, voice steadying. "Witch magic and shifter blood. That's what made my parents' version so strong. We need to combine them again."

I nod, understanding immediately. "Like our child."

Her eyes meet mine, surprise, and something softer flickering across her features. "Yes. Exactly like our child."

She places one hand on the stone, then holds out her other hand to me. I take it, twining our fingers together.

"You need to add your blood," she instructs. "Just a few drops. The stone will do the rest."

Without hesitation, I use a claw to slice open my palm, letting the blood drip onto the ward marker where Luna's hand rests. The effect is immediate. The stone's glow intensifies, pulsing outward in waves of silver-blue light.

Luna gasps, her eyes widening.

"I can feel it," she whispers.

Through our joined hands, I feel it too—a vast network of energy extending throughout Silvercreek territory, dormant for years but now awakening, strengthening. The boundary wards, responding to our combined power.

The light spreads outward in all directions, racing along previously invisible lines toward the territory's edge. Where it touches the trees, they seem to straighten, casting off shadow. The very air feels cleaner, the corruption receding before the advancing light.

Minutes pass as we kneel together, feeding our combined power into the ancient system. Finally, Luna exhales slowly, her shoulders relaxing.

"It's done," she says, pulling her hand away from the stone. The glow fades but doesn't disappear completely, settling into a steady, subtle luminescence. "The wards are restored."

She sways suddenly, exhaustion catching up to her. I catch her against my chest, cradling her carefully. "You need rest. And safety."

She doesn't argue as I lift her into my arms, one hand still protectively covering her abdomen. Her weight is nothing to me—not to the strength of a dozen Alphas in my blood. I scan our surroundings, assessing options. The packhouse is too far, and the fighting might still be ongoing in other areas. We need somewhere closer, somewhere secure.

"The gamekeeper's cabin," I decide. "It's just beyond those trees, and it has a reinforced cellar we use as a safe room for young shifters during full moons. You’ll be safe there until the fighting is over.."

Luna nods against my shoulder, her earlier strength giving way to the aftermath of adrenaline and magical exertion.

"What about the pack?" she murmurs as I carry her through the forest.

"The wards will help," I assure her, stepping carefully to avoid jostling her. "And our fighters are strong. With theCheslem Alpha dead, the others will be disorganized, easier to defeat."

The gamekeeper's cabin appears through the trees, a small but sturdy structure built of stone and thick logs. I shoulder the door open, carrying Luna inside. The main room is simple—a table, a few chairs, a small fireplace—but the cellar entrance is what I'm looking for.

I manage the trapdoor one-handed, descending the stairs carefully. The cellar is clean and dry, stocked with emergency supplies—water, blankets, a first aid kit. I lower Luna gently onto the cot against one wall.

"You'll be safe here," I tell her, pulling a blanket over her. "I need to get back, to help finish this."

Her hand catches my wrist, surprisingly strong.

"Be careful," she whispers. "I can't do this alone. I won’t.”

The simple admission, so unlike the fiercely independent Luna I've known, squeezes something in my chest. I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers.

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