Page 61 of Fat Sold Mate
I show Ruby the message, and we press deeper into cover, muscles tensed for action. Three minutes stretch like hours, each second measured in heartbeats and shallow breaths.
When it comes, the distraction is unmistakable. An explosion rocks the northern perimeter, followed by shouts andhowls of alarm. Petra's head snaps toward the commotion, her corrupted features twisting with calculation.
“Go,” she barks to the other guards. “I'll hold this section.”
Two of the three wolves immediately lope toward the disturbance, leaving only Petra and one other guard at our crossing point. Still problematic, but better odds than before.
My phone vibrates again:Now. Luna opening wards. 20 seconds.
“Run for the stream,” I whisper to Ruby. “Don't stop, don't look back. The ward will only open briefly.”
She nods, clutching her pack containing the grimoire and journal. “What about you?”
“Right behind you,” I promise, though we both know what might happen if we're spotted.
I count down silently, timing our dash with the patrol patterns we've observed. When Petra turns to scan the northern horizon, I squeeze Ruby's hand once—our signal.
She breaks cover, sprinting for the stream with desperate speed. I follow two steps behind, body coiled to shift at the first sign of threat.
We're halfway across the open ground when the remaining guard spots us, its howl of alarm cutting through the morning air. Petra whirls, her eyes widening in recognition and hatred.
“Go!” I shout to Ruby, already shifting as I pivot to face our pursuers. Bones crack and reform, fur erupting across my skin as my wolf surges forward with protective rage.
Ruby doesn't hesitate, continuing her headlong dash toward the stream where the air shimmers subtly—Luna's ward temporarily opening to admit her. Through our bond, I feel her terror, not for herself but for me as she crosses the boundary and reaches safety.
I have no such luxury. Petra and her remaining guard converge on me with coordinated precision, cutting off my retreat. I brace for impact as the guard reaches me first, meeting its charge with teeth and claws and desperate strength.
We collide with bone-jarring force, rolling across the forest floor in a tangle of fur and fury. The corrupted wolf is strong, its movements enhanced by dark magic, but I fight with the knowledge that Ruby is safe, that our information might save Silvercreek, that I just need to survive long enough for help to arrive.
Petra circles, looking for an opening, her corrupted form even more terrifying up close. Black ichor drips from elongated fangs as she grins, actually grins, at the sight of me struggling against her subordinate.
“The Alpha's pet enforcer,” she taunts, voice distorted by corruption. “I’ve been dreaming about killing you, you know.”
I don't waste breath on a growl; I focus instead on the immediate threat. The guard's teeth snap inches from my throat, its corrupted breath hot against my fur. I twist, looking for leverage, finding none as its unnatural strength pins me against the forest floor.
From the corner of my eye, I see Petra moving in for the kill, her claws extended for a strike that will tear out my throat if it lands. There's no time to counter both threats, no way to escape the fatal blow.
It never comes.
A blur of silvery-blonde fur crashes into Petra from the side, sending her tumbling away from me with a howl of surprise and pain. Thomas, his massive wolf form instantly recognizable, follows through with savage precision, driving Petra further from where I struggle with the guard.
The momentary distraction is all I need. With renewed strength, I surge upward, breaking the guard's hold and countering with a vicious bite to its already corrupted shoulder. The taste is foul, but I hang on, shaking violently until something gives with a wet snap. The guard goes limp, not dead but incapacitated, corruption spreading too far for a killing blow to be necessary.
I whirl to help Thomas, but the fight is already over. Petra has retreated, bleeding from multiple wounds, her remaining guard following as they disappear into the forest. Thomas shifts back to human form, breathing hard but grinning with fierce satisfaction.
“Cutting it close as usual, Morgan,” he pants.
I shift too, unable to fight back a grin. “Perfect timing as always, Ennes,” I counter, using his surname in the familiar way of old friends.
Thomas clasps my shoulder, his expression shifting from battle-high to genuine relief. “Good to have you back. Nic was going crazy without his third-in-command. I, on the other hand, think we should send you away for a few weeks every now and then just to keep me sane.”
I shove him none-too-gently, then briefly embrace my friend, desperately happy suddenly to be home.
“Glad to be back,” I say, letting Thomas go. “It’s been… It’s been a journey.”
He eyes me, then informs me dryly, “I can tell.”
“Ruby?” I ask, already knowing she's safe through our bond but needing verbal confirmation.
