Page 10 of Fat Sold Mate
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I reply, so softly only his shifter hearing could catch it.
The song ends, and I step back immediately, breaking contact. “I need some air.”
Before he can respond, I turn and weave through the crowd toward the edge of the square. Faces blur as I pass—some offering congratulations, others watching with naked curiosity. I acknowledge none of them, focused only on escape.
I reach the perimeter, gulping cool night air that does nothing to soothe the panic rising in my chest. From here, I can see the whole celebration spread before me—the dancing couples, the clusters of conversation, the elders watching it all with satisfaction.
A tradition preserved. A pack strengthened. A prison sentence delivered with a smile.
“Ruby.”
I turn to find Luna beside me, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion. “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” My voice comes out sharper than intended.
She winces. “I didn’t think… I mean… Jesus, Ruby. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” I glance back at the square where James stands with Nic and Thomas, his posture tense despite his neutral expression. “I’m really, really sorry.”
“Maybe it's not as bad as you think,” Luna offers, laying a gentle hand on my arm. “James is... he's a good man, Ruby.”
“Is he?” I pull away from her touch. “You don't know everything, Luna.”
“Then tell me,” she pleads. “What happened between you two? One day you were getting closer, and the next you wouldn't even speak his name.”
The memory rises unbidden—his voice, the laughter that followed. I push it down, unwilling to reveal that particular humiliation even to my best friend.
“It doesn't matter,” I repeat. “None of this—” I gesture at the celebration—”changes anything.”
Luna's eyes narrow. “What are you planning, Ruby?”
I force a smile. “Nothing. I'm just... overwhelmed. I need to go home.”
“The celebration just started,” she protests. “Tradition—”
“I don't give a damn about tradition,” I snap, then immediately regret it at the hurt in her eyes. “I'm sorry. I just... I can't be here right now. Please understand.”
After a moment, she nods reluctantly. “I'll tell Nic you weren't feeling well. But, Ruby... don't do anything rash.”
“Me? Never.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
I slip away from the square, the sounds of celebration fading behind me as I walk quickly toward Mystic Page. The night wraps around me like a familiar blanket, stars scattered across the velvet sky in careless beauty.
By the time I reach the bookshop, my decision is made.
Upstairs, I move with purpose, pulling a duffel bag from under my bed. Clothes, toiletries, my mother's grimoire. The small savings I've kept hidden in a hollowed-out copy ofJane Eyre.Enough to start over somewhere new. Somewhere, I won't be the outcast witch-girl. Somewhere without James Morgan and his amber eyes that see too much.
I change out of the burgundy dress, donning jeans, a dark sweater, and sturdy boots. Practical clothes for a practical escape.
As I stuff the last of my essentials into the bag, Maggie appears at the window, tapping imperiously with one massive paw.
“Not now,” I mutter, but she continues her insistent pawing until I relent and open the window.
She slinks in, immediately winding between my ankles, her rumbling purr filling the quiet apartment. For a moment, I consider taking her with me—but she's not really mine, never has been. Like everything in Silvercreek, she belongs to many people, just passing through my life temporarily.
“I'm sorry, your majesty,” I whisper, scratching behind her ears one last time. “You'll have to find a new subject to command.”
Her amber eyes—so like my own—seem to see right through me, judging and understanding in equal measure. She headbutts my hand once more before settling on my pillow, clearly planning to stay regardless of my imminent departure.
