Page 84 of Fat Arranged Mate
But the most profound change is within us. Two broken wolves who found healing in the last place either expected to look.
"What now?" Sera asks, nestled against my side, where she fits perfectly.
I look around at our battered but unbowed pack, at the captured hunters being loaded into official vehicles, at the future stretching before us—uncertain but facing it together.
"Now," I say, pressing a kiss to her temple, "we go home."
"Home," she repeats, testing the word like an unfamiliar language. Then, she beams up at me, an expression so pure and bright it threatens to take me out at the knees. “Yes. I think you should take me home."
The rising sunbathes Silvercreek in golden light as we walk hand in hand toward whatever comes next, no longer enemies or reluctant allies, but partners who chose each other when it mattered most.
Chapter 31 - Sera
Three weeks after the battle, Silvercreek breathes again.
The hunters' operation crumbled under state wildlife authority investigation, their leaders facing charges for illegal hunting and assault. Most importantly, no lives were lost on either side—a miracle I attribute partly to Luna's protective magic and partly to our pack's restraint.
The setting sun paints the Hollow in amber and gold as I walk its familiar path. This sacred clearing where fate paired me with Dylan now holds a different meaning—less a site of reluctant obligation and more the beginning of an unexpected journey.
"Thought I'd find you here," Dylan's voice carries from behind me.
I turn to see him approaching, moving with the fluid grace that first caught my attention months ago. He's changed since our return—still fierce and protective, but the sharp edges have softened. He smiles more easily, laughs more freely.
"Just needed some quiet," I explain as he reaches me. "Everyone's been so..."
"Enthusiastic?" he offers, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I laugh, leaning back against his chest. "That's one word for it. Ruby's asked me fourteen times when we're having pups."
Dylan's chuckle vibrates against my back. "Connor's worse. Keeps asking for fighting techniques 'in case his lottery match is as stubborn as mine’."
"Poor thing has no idea what he's in for this winter," I muse, thinking of the upcoming lottery. “It’ll be fun to watch from the outside this time, I admit it.”
"I think Nic’s desperate for it to all be drama-free,” Dylan admits. “Says after the last few, he needs a break.”
We stand in comfortable silence, watching shadows lengthen across the clearing where our story began. Birds call evening songs from surrounding trees, the scent of pine and wildflowers filling the air.
"Do you regret it?" Dylan asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "Being chosen for me?"
I turn in his arms to face him, surprised by the vulnerability in his expression.
"No," I answer without hesitation. "Not anymore."
"Even though I was a dick?"
"Especially because you were a dick," I tease, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. "It made the transformation more satisfying."
His smile turns wry. "I was that bad, huh?"
"Worse." I rise on tiptoes to kiss him softly. "But so was I, in my way. We both had to break before we could rebuild something better."
His arms tighten around me, protective and possessive in equal measure. "Tomorrow," he murmurs against my hair. "Are you ready?"
Tomorrow. Our mating ceremony. Not the hasty, obligatory ritual we once dreaded, but a celebration chosen and delayed until we both felt truly prepared.
"I am," I answer, surprising myself with the certainty I feel. "Are you?"
His answer is a kiss that leaves no room for doubt.
