Page 13 of Fat Arranged Mate
"Then what do you want me to say?" Frustration edges my voice. "That this is a disaster? That whoever engineered this match should be demoted to omega? Fine. I agree."
"Well, that's something." The ghost of a smile touches her lips before disappearing. "At least we're on the same page about one thing."
Moonlight catches the curve of her cheek, the slight tremor in her hands that she tries to hide by crossing her arms. Despite everything, I find myself noticing details I shouldn't—the way her borrowed dress hugs curves that have filled out since her arrival, how her eyes reflect starlight.
I clear my throat. "Luna says there's no way out except—"
"Becoming a rogue. I know." She sighs; the sound heavy with resignation. "Not exactly a viable option for either of us."
"So we're stuck."
"Apparently."
Silence stretches between us, filled with the night sounds of the forest—distant owl calls, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, the whisper of wind through pine needles. In the distance, the celebration at the Hollow continues to wind down, voices growing fainter.
"I won't force this," I finally say, the words emerging rougher than intended. "The bond. We have a month."
Something flickers in her expression—relief? Disappointment? It's gone too quickly to interpret. "A month to figure out an alternative."
"Or to adjust to the idea."
She raises an eyebrow. "Is that what you're doing? Adjusting?"
"I'm trying to be practical."
"Practical," she repeats, almost to herself. "Ever the security chief."
I bite back a retort, recognizing the bait for what it is. "One step at a time, Daley. We don't have to figure everything out tonight."
She opens her mouth to respond, but footsteps approaching rapidly from the direction of the pack house interrupt us. Thomas emerges from the trees, his expression unusually serious.
"There you are," he says, slightly out of breath. "Nic needs you both. Now."
I straighten immediately, instincts shifting to alert. "What's happened?"
"Emergency situation. He'll explain." Thomas is already turning, clearly expecting us to follow. "It can't wait."
Sera and I exchange a glance, momentary allies in our confusion. Without discussion, we fall into step behind Thomas, heading for the Alpha's office.
The main pack house is eerily quiet at this hour; most residents are either still at the Hollow or already asleep. Nic's office door stands open, light spilling into the darkened hallway. Inside, he paces behind his desk, expression grim. Luna sits in a corner chair, her face equally serious.
"Close the door," Nic instructs as we enter.
Thomas complies, then takes up position beside the window, arms crossed. The tension in the room is palpable.
"What's going on?" I ask, automatically scanning for threats.
Nic gestures for us to sit. Neither of us does.
"Forty minutes ago, I received an emergency communication from the pack near Pinecrest, fifty miles away," he begins without preamble. "One of their scouts was attacked while passing through human territory past our southern border. Silver bullets. Professional hunting equipment."
My blood runs cold. "League remnants?"
"Unknown," Nic replies. "But the hunter wore the symbol of a local group calling themselves 'Guardians of Pinecrest’. They've apparently been stirring up anti-shifter sentiment for months, but they’re keeping a low enough profile that we missed them—until now.”
"The scout?" Sera asks.
"Alive, barely. Made it back to his territory with three silver fragments in his shoulder." Nic's expression darkens. "This can't go unanswered, but we can't risk open conflict either."
