Page 35 of Fat Sold Mate
I move from my position by the window, approaching the cot where Sera lies. Her color is better this morning, the fever that gripped her during the night having broken near dawn. Ruby's careful ministrations—clean water, bandages from the first aid kit, and a stubborn determination I've come to admire—have done what my skepticism couldn't.
Sera's eyes flutter open, dark and glassy. She tenses at the sight of me looming over her, instinct making her try to retreat despite her injuries.
“It's okay,” Ruby soothes, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. “You're safe. Remember? You found us last night.”
Recognition flickers across Sera's face, followed by relief.
“Silvercreek wolves,” she murmurs, relaxing slightly. “I remember now.”
“You said something about the Cheslem pack,” I prompt, unwilling to dance around the subject. “About them being monsters.”
Ruby shoots me a look that clearly says I'm being too harsh, but I ignore it. We can't afford to coddle potential threats, no matter how young or injured they appear.
Sera struggles to sit up, wincing as the movement pulls at her bandaged shoulder. Ruby helps her, arranging a folded jacket behind her back for support.
“Water?” Sera asks, her voice scratchy from dehydration.
Ruby obliges, holding a cup to the girl's lips. I watch the tender gesture, something twisting in my chest at the sight. Even now, with everything that's happened, Ruby's capacity for compassion remains intact. It's a strength I've always admired, even when I questioned its wisdom.
After taking several small sips, Sera seems to gather her strength.
“The Cheslem Pack was never a good place,” she begins, her voice steadying. “But it’s getting worse. Our Alpha, Matthias, has continued what Manox started before him—corruption rituals that bind pack members to his will.”
“We know about the corruption,” I say, crossing my arms. “We've fought enough of your pack to see it firsthand.”
“They're not all willing participants,” Sera says, her eyes flashing with sudden intensity. “Most aren't. The corruption begins as a choice for the desperate—rogues needing protection, young wolves without packs. They're offered safety, belonging. The price seems small at first.”
“What price?” Ruby asks, fully engaged now.
“Loyalty rituals, they call them.” Sera's voice drops, disgust evident in her tone. “Consuming the essence of another shifter—blood, mostly, sometimes more—infused with darkmagic. It creates a bond to the Alpha that can't be broken by normal means.”
Ruby's sharp intake of breath draws my attention. Her face has paled, her eyes wide with recognition.
“You’re trapped?” she asks, desperate for the truth. “You can’t leave?”
“Or disobey him,” Sera confirms grimly. “He’s killed enough of us—we’ve all seen it happen.”
I feel sick at the implication. “And the physical changes? The corruption we see?”
Sera nods grimly. “The more rituals you participate in, the more the corruption spreads. It starts internally—enhanced strength, heightened aggression, reduced empathy. Eventually, it manifests physically.” She gestures to her own body. “I'm early in the process. Only one ritual, forced on me after they killed my parents for questioning Matthias. I knew I had to run after… after that.”
“You said not everyone is willing,” Ruby prompts gently. “But once corrupted, they seem pretty committed to the cause.”
“The corruption affects the mind,” Sera explains. “It doesn't just bind you to the Alpha—it changes how you think, what you value. The more corrupted you become, the more you lose yourself. And those who try to break free or run are killed, just like that.” Her eyes drop to her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “My grandmother saw what was happening. She tried to stop it.”
“Your grandmother?” Ruby leans forward, interest sharpening her features.
“She was a witch,” Sera says with quiet pride. “One of the last in our pack. She started developing a counter-ritual,something to break the corruption's hold.” Her voice catches. “Matthias found out. He killed her himself.”
Ruby glances at her grimoire, resting on her pack across the room. I can practically see the connections forming in her mind, the possibilities unfolding.
“What kind of counter-ritual?” she asks.
“I’m not sure,” Sera says honestly. “I’m… not much of a witch. I didn’t really understand it. And her research has probably been burned now.”
I feel Ruby's awareness spike through our bond, her attention suddenly, acutely focused on the implications, even despite what Sera doesn’t know. Our eyes meet briefly across the room, a wealth of unspoken communication passing between us.
“You don’t remember any of it?” I ask, breaking the loaded silence.
