Page 60 of Fat Sold Mate
Ruby's hand finds mine in the shadows, her fingers cold with fear, before fluttering away again fast, thinking better of it. “All the way around the territory now?”
“Looks that way.” I scan the tree line, counting at least six corrupted wolves visible from our position alone. “They're containing the pack.”
“A siege,” Ruby murmurs. “How do we get through?”
I pull out my phone, powered up using the truck's charger, but it shows only a single bar of service this far from civilization. “First, we need to know what we're walking into.”
Nic's number connects after three attempts, the call dropping twice before finally going through.
“James?” His voice is tense, alert despite the early hour. “Where are you?”
“Southern border,” I reply quietly. “We can see the Cheslem patrols. We can’t get through this. What's the situation?”
Nic's exhale is heavy with relief and exhaustion. “As of last night, we’re totally surrounded. They’re testing the wards daily, looking for weak points. Luna's been reinforcing them, but it's taking a toll, especially with the baby.”
“Casualties?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“None inside the wards yet,” he says, though something in his tone makes my fur bristle. “But they've taken prisoners. Elder Victoria. Elder Amelia. Three others were caught outside when the siege began.”
Beside me, Ruby stiffens, her distress pulsing through our bond. Elder Amelia had always been kind to her, one of the few pack leaders who treated her with respect despite her outcast status. And Victoria, despite her traditional views, is Nic's grandmother and our High Elder—a symbol of stability and leadership.
“We need to get inside,” I say. “We have information. Potential help.”
There's a pause, the sound of Nic conferring with someone nearby—Thomas, I think, recognizing the low rumble of my friend's voice.
“Southeast corner,” Nic says finally. “There's a stream crossing where the wards are thinnest. Luna can temporarily open a passage, but you'll need a distraction.” Another pause. “Don’t die. We’ll see you soon.”
The call disconnects, leaving us with a plan that feels tissue-thin.
“This is risky,” Ruby whispers, processing the implications. “If they get through—”
“They won’t,” I cut her off gently. “My sister’s strong. She can hold them back while we get through.”
She nods, composing herself with visible effort. “Southeast corner. How far?”
“Two miles, following the border.” I scan the terrain, mapping our route through the dense forest that will provide cover. “We move fast, stay quiet. If we're spotted—”
“We run,” Ruby finishes. “I know the drill by now.”
Something like pride swells in my chest at her resilience. The witch-born outcast who couldn't shift has become a survivor, a fighter in her own right. Whatever happens next, she's earned her place in this pack a hundred times over.
We move through the forest with practiced stealth, every sense alert for signs of Cheslem scouts. Ruby follows half a step behind, her movements nearly as silent as my own after weeks of flight and hiding. The bond between us hums with shared purpose, shared determination that temporarily overshadows the more complicated emotions simmering beneath.
When we reach the southeast corner, I signal for Ruby to halt in a dense thicket of pines. Through gaps in the branches, we can see the boundary where Silvercreek territory officiallybegins—marked not by any physical indicator but by the subtle shift in energy that all shifters can sense.
And guarding that boundary, pacing with predatory grace along the bank of the narrow stream Nic mentioned, is Petra.
Ruby's sharp intake of breath carries clearly in the morning stillness. I place a warning hand on her arm, feeling her trembling with rage or fear—perhaps both.
Petra looks different than when we last saw her. The corruption has progressed, black veins visible even from this distance, crawling up her neck and across one cheek. She moves with the unnatural fluidity of the deeply corrupted, her human form maintained only through obvious effort and will.
“She should be dead,” Ruby whispers, so quietly only a shifter's hearing could catch it. “Sera sacrificed herself to kill her.”
“But she’s here,” I murmur back. “Which means we adapt.”
Three more Cheslem wolves patrol nearby, all showing signs of advanced corruption. Beyond them, barely visible through the trees, I catch glimpses of Silvercreek wolves on the other side of the boundary—our people, holding the line, looking as exhausted as Nic sounded.
My phone vibrates with an incoming text:Distraction in 3 min. Stay under cover. Be ready.
