Page 1 of Fat Sold Mate
Prologue - James
Sweat trickles down my spine as I heave another shattered beam into the pile of debris. A small residential area on the edge of Silvercreek stands wounded around me, its bones exposed to the summer sky through gaping holes in the roof. Bullet holes pockmark the walls like a disease. Broken glass glitters on the floor, catching sunlight in dangerous constellations.
The hunters didn’t destroy the heart of our town, but they left their mark.
Two weeks since the attack, and the scent of gunpowder still haunts the air, mingling with sawdust and the metallic tang of blood that no amount of cleaning seems to erase. My wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless and vigilant. He doesn't believe we're safe yet. Neither do I. No one died, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t come perilously close.
“James, hand me that nail gun,” Nic calls from where he's reinforcing a load-bearing wall. Our Alpha hasn't slept more than three hours a night since the League for Humanity stormed our territory. The attack transformed him—hardened the friendly, diplomatic leader into something sharper, more dangerous. I barely recognize my best friend in the hollow-eyed man barking orders and obsessively checking perimeter reports. I know it’s temporary—when he’s stressed, he gets like this. But it’s still painful to watch.
I toss him the tool and return to clearing debris, my muscles burning pleasantly with the effort. Physical labor is the only thing keeping me sane.
But I have other responsibilities now, too.
“I'm taking a break,” I announce to no one in particular. “Going to check on Luna.”
Nic nods without looking up—he’s been spending more time with her than anyone else when he can get away from his duties—and I slip out the side door into the blinding afternoon sunlight. Silvercreek sprawls before me, a small town tucked into the embrace of a thick forest that our enemies have rarely, in our lengthy history, ever penetrated. From here, it looks almost normal—picturesque even—if you ignore the increased patrols and the way everyone moves with wary purpose, eyes scanning constantly for threats.
The makeshift medical center has been established in the town hall, the only building large enough to accommodate the dozen wounded packmates still requiring care. The sharp astringent scent of antiseptic hits me before I even open the door, making my wolf recoil. He hates hospitals, medical centers—anywhere that smells of sickness and chemicals. I force him down and push through the double doors.
Inside, organized chaos reigns. A doctor whose name I don’t remember moves between beds with efficient precision, her nurse struggling to keep pace. At the far end, a supply station has been established, and I freeze mid-step when I recognize the woman organizing bandages and medications. Ruby Mulligan—Luna's best friend.
The outcast,a voice whispers in the back of my mind.Just like Luna was.
She hasn't noticed me yet, and I find myself watching her unexpected presence here. Ruby moves with quiet efficiency, her hands quick and sure as she sorts supplies. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. She looks tired—dark shadows bruise the skin beneath hereyes—but determined, consulting a clipboard before rearranging several bottles on the shelf. Casual, somewhat worn clothes hug her ample curves. She looks raw, exhausted.
I've known Ruby peripherally for years—impossible not to in a pack the size of Silvercreek—but we've rarely spoken directly. She’s existed in my awareness as Luna's strange friend, the one who runs the bookshop, the one who can't shift, the one whose mother was a witch like mine was. The outcast who somehow managed to remain despite the pack's collective cold shoulder, even as that cold shoulder triggered my own sister to vanish for years.
Something uncomfortable squirms in my gut at the thought.
She looks up suddenly, as if sensing my scrutiny, and our eyes lock across the room. For a suspended moment, neither of us moves. Her eyes are amber, almost wolf-like despite her inability to shift, and they widen slightly in recognition before her expression shutters.
I approach hesitantly, my boots squeaking against the polished floor. “Have you seen Luna?”
Ruby tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a small crescent moon tattoo on her wrist I've never noticed before. “She's resting. Dr. Foster gave her something for the headaches about an hour ago.”
Her voice is lower than I expected, with a slight huskiness that catches me off guard. I clear my throat. “How is she doing? Really?”
Something softens in Ruby's expression, and I realize with sudden clarity that she loves my sister as much as I do. In this, at least, we're united.
“Better. The dizziness is less frequent, but she's still having trouble with bright lights.” She hesitates, then adds, “I've been making her a tincture that seems to help with the pain. She’d been showing me her salves and herbs since she came back. I’ll never be as good at it as Luna, but—well.”
I nod, unsure how to respond to this unexpected kindness.
“Thank you,” I finally manage. “For helping her. For... all this.” I gesture at the supply station.
Ruby's lips quirk in a not-quite smile. “Everyone's helping where they can.”
“Still. I didn't expect—” I stop, realizing too late how the words sound.
“Didn't expect the pack reject to pitch in?” The words are sharp, but her tone is resigned rather than angry.
“That's not what I meant.” But wasn't it? The uncomfortable feeling intensifies.
Ruby shrugs, returning to her clipboard. “Luna's in the back room. She'll probably sleep for another hour, but you can sit with her if you want.”
Dismissed, I nod awkwardly and head toward the door she indicated. Something makes me pause and look back. “Will you be here later? I can bring coffee when I come back to check on her.”
Surprise flickers across Ruby's face, quickly masked.
