Page 15 of Fat Arranged Mate
"How did you create all this so quickly?" I ask, examining a driver's license with my photo but a stranger's details.
"We maintain contingency identities," Nic explains, not looking up from the map he's marking. "Standard protocol for emergencies."
Of course they do. I suppress a shiver, reminded yet again of the ever-present vigilance that defines Silvercreek—the very mindset I've been trying to escape.
"The rental is paid through a shell company," Thomas continues. "Two bedrooms, basic furnishings, isolated enoughfor privacy but connected enough to look normal. Your vehicle is a used Honda Civic—unremarkable, reliable, won't draw attention."
My eyes drift involuntarily to Dylan, who stands at the far end of the table studying satellite images of Pinecrest. He hasn't spoken directly to me since we left Nic's office, focusing instead on tactical preparations with single-minded intensity. Fine by me. The less interaction, the better.
"Sera." Ruby's voice pulls me back. "Let's get your clothes sorted while they finish the security protocols."
Grateful for the escape, I follow her to a smaller room off the main hall where several suitcases lie open. She immediately begins sorting through clothing options, holding items up against me with a critical eye.
"Nothing too new," she murmurs, selecting a faded blue sweater. "A young couple just starting wouldn't have an extensive wardrobe."
"This is really happening, isn't it?" The reality finally hits me fully. "Four hours ago, I was panicking about a lottery match. Now I'm going undercover in a town of shifter-hunters."
Ruby's hands pause briefly. "It's a lot. Are you okay?"
"Not remotely." I sink onto a nearby chair. "I'm not built for this, Ruby. I'm a healer, not a spy."
"That's exactly why you're perfect for this." She kneels beside me, her expression earnest. "You understand humans better than most of us. You see nuance where others—" she tilts her head meaningfully toward the conference room, "—might only see threats."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better about spending weeks alone with Silvercreek's most paranoid wolf?"I lower my voice, though I know Dylan can probably hear me anyway. "We'll kill each other before any hunters get the chance."
Ruby's lips quirk. "Or you'll discover he's not quite the monster you've built up in your head."
"He called humans 'potential threats until proven otherwise' in the last pack meeting."
"And you called that approach 'Neanderthal thinking'. You're both opinionated." She returns to packing, carefully folding a pair of jeans. "Just remember—out there, you're a team. Whatever issues you have, shelve them. Your lives depend on it."
The severity in her tone sobers me. This isn't just an uncomfortable social situation; it's potentially deadly. Whatever my feelings about Dylan, I need him if I want to survive this mission, just as he needs me.
"Any advice?" I ask, helping her fold clothes into the suitcase. "For... pretending?"
Ruby considers this, tucking a cardigan beside a row of neatly arranged socks. "Small things sell a relationship. The casual touches, the inside jokes, finishing each other's sentences. People notice patterns." She pauses, meeting my eyes. "And Sera? Don't completely suppress your wolf while you're there. It'll make you sick. Find private moments to let her out, even partially."
I nod, though the thought of shifting anywhere near human hunters makes my skin crawl. My wolf has been retreating further within me since arriving at Silvercreek, emerging less frequently and less fully. Even before that, my shift has always been weaker than most—likely due to years of malnutrition and stress in Cheslem. At my strongest, I canmanage a partial shift, at my weakest, just enhanced senses and slightly sharper teeth. Not exactly the fearsome predator of human nightmares.
By the time we finish packing, the eastern sky has begun to lighten. I change into human clothes—soft jeans, a faded t-shirt, comfortable shoes—and join the others at the front entrance where a nondescript sedan waits.
Dylan stands beside it, looking strangely normal in faded jeans and a gray henley that does nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders. Without his usual tactical gear, he could almost pass for an ordinary man—if not for the perpetual vigilance in his stance, the way his eyes continually scan the perimeter even here, in the heart of pack territory.
"Ready?" Nic asks, approaching with final instructions.
"As I'll ever be," I mutter, earning a sharp glance from Dylan.
"Check in protocols are established," Nic continues, ignoring my comment. "Encode all communications. If you miss two scheduled check-ins, we'll assume compromise and extract immediately."
"The most important thing is to blend in," Luna adds, embracing me briefly. "Be observant but unremarkable. Humans notice what doesn't fit their expected patterns."
Dylan nods curtly, accepting a final handshake from Thomas before moving to the driver's side. I hug Ruby goodbye, whispering, "If I don't come back, it's because I strangled him," which earns me a soft laugh and a gentle push toward the car.
The sun breaks over the horizon as we drive away from Silvercreek, casting long shadows across the forest road. Neitherof us speaks. The radio remains off. The only sound is the quiet hum of tires on asphalt and our measured breathing.
After twenty minutes of silence, I can't take it anymore. "Are we really not going to talk the entire way there?"
Dylan's hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "What do you want to talk about, Daley? The weather? Our lottery match? The hunter situation?"
