Page 62 of Fat Sold Mate
“With Luna and Fiona at the pack house,” Thomas assures me. “Your mate-to-be made it through without a scratch. Or… just mate, now, I guess.”
The word 'mate' still sends a complicated mix of emotions through me, but I don't correct him. Whatever Ruby and I are to each other, it's far more than the forced bond we began with.
We jog through Silvercreek territory, the familiar forest a welcome sight after weeks away. Pack members emerge from homes and gathering areas as word of our return spreads, faces showing relief and hope that cuts deep after everything we've witnessed.
The pack building comes into view—the old Blackwood family home that serves as Silvercreek's central meeting place during crises. On the wide porch, Ruby stands with Luna and Fiona, the three women locked in a tearful embrace that speaks of relief and shared fear. My sister, six or seven months pregnant now, looks utterly exhausted, drained by what has now been weeks of work keeping the wards up. I make a note to give her a proper hug later, when we have a moment.
Nic emerges from inside, his face showing the strain of leadership during the siege but breaking into a rare grin at the sight of us. We clasp forearms in the traditional greeting of packmates, words unnecessary between Alpha and enforcer.
“You look like hell,” he says finally, stepping back to survey the evidence of our journey written in new scars and wary eyes.
“You should see the other guys,” I reply, the familiar banter a thin veneer over deeper currents.
Nic's expression sobers. “How bad is it out there?”
“Worse than we thought,” I admit. “But we brought back information that might help. A counter-ritual for the corruption.”
Hope flares in his eyes, quickly tempered by the caution of a leader who's learned not to trust easy solutions. “Let's hear it, then. All of it.”
As we move toward the pack house, my gaze finds Ruby's across the porch. Through our bond, I feel her anxiety, her determination, and beneath it all, her uncertainty about what comes next. About what we tell them regarding the counter-ritual's requirements. About whether the tenuous connection we've built during our time away will survive our return to the pack that initially forced us together.
Luna says something that makes Ruby smile, the expression transforming her face with a brightness I've rarely seen. My chest tightens at the sight, at the realization of how precious that smile has become to me.
Whatever comes next, whatever battles await us, that smile is worth fighting for. Worth surviving for.
Worth coming home for.
Chapter 23 - Ruby
The sanctuary of Silvercreek feels surreal after weeks on the run. Even with Cheslem wolves prowling our borders, there's safety in these walls that I've missed with a physical ache. It feels like I must have been living in some bizarre past life when I tried to run away. The pack house buzzes with activity—shifters moving with purpose, carrying weapons, consulting maps, preparing for a siege that's already begun.
Luna leads me to her private study, a small room off the main library that smells of herbs and old books and the lingering traces of magic. Her pregnancy has advanced significantly in our absence; her belly now a prominent curve beneath her flowing dress. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, power radiates from her in palpable waves.
“You look awful,” she says, settling carefully into a worn leather chair.
“You look even more pregnant than the last time I saw you,” I counter, managing a weak smile.
“Astute observation.” Luna gestures to the chair opposite hers. “Now tell me everything.”
I place Sera's journal and my mother's grimoire on the table between us. My hands hover protectively over both, reluctant to release them even to my best friend. These books represent different paths—my mother's legacy and a stranger's sacrifice—both now converging on a future I never imagined.
“We found a potential solution,” I begin, flipping open Sera's journal to the marked pages. “A counter-ritual for the corruption. But it's... complicated.”
Luna leans forward, her amber eyes—so like her brother's—scanning the cramped handwriting with practiced ease. Her finger traces the diagrams, lips moving silently as she absorbs the ritual's requirements. When she looks up, her expression is grave.
“This would work,” she says finally. “The theory is sound. But the power required...” She trails off, one hand moving unconsciously to her belly.
“Could you do it?” I ask, hope, and dread tangling in my chest.
Luna's laugh holds no humor. “In my current state? After weeks of maintaining the territory wards?” She shakes her head. “I'd likely kill myself and the baby trying.”
The hope I'd been nurturing—that Luna's greater magical strength could shoulder this burden—withers. “Then it's useless,” I mutter, slumping back in my chair.
“I didn't say that.” Luna taps the journal thoughtfully. “The ritual requires a conduit—a completed mate bond. It draws power from that connection.” Her gaze sharpens on my face. “You and James have a bond now, right? Fully consummated?”
Heat floods my cheeks, embarrassment warring with indignation at the direct question. “That's—I'm not discussing—”
“Your non-answer is answer enough—you know you can’t hide from me,” Luna says, a knowing smile playing at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “Good. At least something positive came from this nightmare.”
