Page 34 of Fat Sold Mate
The words hang in the air between us, dangerous and exposed. For a moment, something shifts in James's expression—surprise, maybe, or a vulnerability that matches my own.
But before he can respond, a crash from outside shatters the moment. We both freeze, instincts immediately on alert. James moves to the window in one fluid motion, his body tense as he peers into the darkness.
“Movement,” he whispers. “Northeast corner.”
I join him, keeping to the shadows as I try to discern what he sees with his superior shifter vision. At first, I see nothing but darkness and the faint outline of trees swaying in the night breeze. Then—a flash of movement, a stumbling figure breaking from the treeline.
“Cheslem?” I ask, my earlier anger replaced by cold fear.
James inhales deeply, testing the air. “Yes. But... different. Not corrupted, or not fully. Just one.”
The figure staggers toward the ranger station, clearly injured. As they draw closer, the moonlight reveals a young woman, no older than twenty, her clothes torn and bloodied, her face pale with exhaustion and pain.
“She's hurt,” I say, already moving toward the door.
James catches my arm, his grip gentle but firm. “It could be a trap.”
I meet his gaze steadily. “Look at her, James. She can barely stand.”
Through our bond, I feel his internal struggle—the protective instinct warring with strategic caution. Finally, he nods, releasing my arm. “Be careful. I'll cover you.”
I slip outside, moving cautiously toward the young woman. Up close, her injuries are worse than I thought—a deep gash across her shoulder, bruises mottling her visible skin, and a haunted look in her eyes that speaks of horrors witnessed rather than just injuries sustained.
“Help,” she manages, her voice barely audible. “Please.”
She collapses before I can reach her, crumpling to the ground like a marionette with cut strings. I rush forward, kneeling beside her as James approaches more cautiously, his stance ready to shift at the first sign of threat.
“She needs help,” I say, checking her pulse—rapid but present. “We need to get her inside.”
James hesitates only briefly before lifting the unconscious woman with careful strength. Together, we bring her into the ranger station, laying her on the narrow cot against the wall. In the lamplight, her features become clearer—delicate but strong, with a stubborn set to her jaw even in unconsciousness. She's beautiful in a feral way, her dark hair matted with blood and dirt.
“Cheslem, definitely,” James confirms, his nostrils flaring as he catches her scent. “But young. And not fully corrupted.”
I grab the first aid kit, already assessing the visible wounds. “Hand me the water. And the bandages.”
As I clean the gash on her shoulder, the young woman stirs, her eyes fluttering open—amber, like mine, like James's. Witch-born eyes in a wolf's face.
“Where—” she begins, tensing as she registers our presence.
“You're safe,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “We're not going to hurt you.”
“Silvercreek,” she whispers, her gaze darting between us. “You're from Silvercreek. I can smell it.”
James steps closer, his posture deliberately non-threatening despite his wariness. “And you're Cheslem. Why are you running from your own pack?”
The young woman struggles to sit up, wincing as the movement pulls at her wound.
“My name is Sera,” she says, her voice stronger now. “And I'm running because they're monsters.”
The words fall heavy between us. I have no idea what to say to them. All of this fighting with James, and suddenly, I’m out of words.
Her revelation hangs in the air like smoke, even as she begins to lose consciousness, choking and ominous. Before either of us can respond, Sera's eyes roll back, her grip on my wrist going slack as unconsciousness claims her once more.
Chapter 12 - James
Morning light filters through grimy windows, casting golden rectangles across the ranger station's worn floorboards. I've been awake for hours, keeping watch while Ruby tended to our unexpected guest. The Cheslem wolf—Sera—fell unconscious again shortly after her dramatic revelation last night, leaving us with more questions than answers and a wounded enemy under our roof.
“She's waking up,” Ruby announces, her voice quiet but carrying across the small space.
