Page 8 of Fat Forced Mate

Every step feels haunted by memory. The hollow log where we used to leave notes for each other. The flat rock by the creek's edge where we planned impossible futures. The small clearing where he first told me his wolf recognized something special in me, even if I couldn't shift.

A movement in the underbrush startles a laugh out of me—just a rabbit, but for a moment, my heart leaped like it used to when we were sneaking around. The forest feels alivewith secrets, with possibility. Or maybe that's just my magic responding to being back in pack territory, back where it first awakened.

The pack building looms through the trees, its windows watching like judging eyes. Soon, I'll have to walk back into that viper's nest, face the whispers and stares, pretend none of it touches me. Soon, I'll have to see Nic up close, be in the same room with him for the first time in five years.

I won't break,I promise myself, letting my magic flow through me like armor.I won't let them see me cry again.

But as I turn back toward town, my heart still aches with the desire to run—to return to my shop, my quiet life, my hard-won peace. Instead of doing any of that, I straighten my spine and walk toward the gathering storm.

Chapter 4 -Dominic

"Members of another pack crossed our northern border again last night." James tosses the report onto my desk, where it joins dozens of others. "Third time this month. Cheslem or not, whoever it is, they’re getting bolder. We’ve lost their scents, but we should send out trackers anyway.”

I lean back in my chair, studying my inner circle gathered in my office. These pre-meeting strategy sessions have become a ritual since I took over as Alpha. There’s great benefit to them, I’ve found—to gather the hand-chosen, my closest inner circle, in a space free of Elders allows us all to think clearly. Just me and the rest of the new blood of Silvercreek’s leadership, the young and hungry, those who fought tooth and nail for positions of authority at my side.

Andrew stands by the window, hair unkempt but eyes sharp, tablet in hand, one earpiece in. Elisa perches on the arm of a leather chair, her slight build balanced by sharp intelligence and the kind of grit half of my wolves wish they could aspire to. Thomas, my eternal right hand, leans against the doorframe, our head enforcer radiating quiet strength. And James... well, James sprawls in his chair like he owns it, but his eyes are serious. I know him well enough to see the gleam of grim determination there.

"Show me," I say, and Andrew projects a map onto the wall. Red dots mark incursion points, forming an unsettling pattern.

"They're testing our defenses," Thomas observes. "Looking for weak spots."

"Or trying to distract us from something else," Elisa adds. She's earned her place in these meetings through keen tacticalinsight. "The timing can't be coincidental. With the lottery approaching—"

A knock interrupts her. Elder Victoria enters without waiting for response, her silver hair gleaming in the morning light. My grandmother has always had perfect timing when it comes to her dramatic entrances.

We all know why she has been particularly invested in this affair. It’s how she was Chosen for my grandfather, half a century ago. Now, he is long dead, but she has retained her authority. If anyone knows the power of a lottery, it’s her.

"The pack is gathering," she announces, her eyes sweeping our group. "Shall we begin?"

I resist the urge to growl at the interruption. Victoria may have stepped down from an Alpha’s affiliate to serve the Council when my grandfather died, long before I was born, ceding a good amount of power, but she still wields considerable influence as High Elder, and her power is important to her. And lately, she's been hinting at knowledge she won't fully share.

"We'll continue this later," I tell my team. They file out, though James lingers.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. "With... everything?"

He means Luna. We both know it, but neither of us says it. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are." He claps my shoulder. "Just remember—you're not just Nic anymore. You're their Alpha. Act like it. I know you can.”

As if I could forget what I must do. As if I have a choice. The weight of responsibility sits heavy in my gut as I make my way to the great hall, the lower chamber of the pack building, the only space large enough for all of us. Pack members part beforeme, offering respectful nods. Six months, and I'm still not used to this—the deference, the expectation, the way every eye tracks my movement. But I've learned to wear authority-like armor, to project the confidence they need to see.

The great hall fills quickly. Tentative afternoon sun streams through stained glass windows, casting colored shadows across the gathered pack. Centuries of tradition echo in the carved wooden beams, the stone floors worn smooth by generations of feet. I take my place on the raised platform, Victoria and the other Elders flanking me.

And then she walks in.

Luna moves like she's expecting an attack, spine straight and chin high. She's changed from when I last saw her yesterday, wearing a deep blue, flowing dress that hugs every curve, reminding me exactly why my control always fractured around her. My wolf surges forward, drinking in the sight of her—the way the fabric clings to her hips, how her copper hair catches the light, the subtle sway of her walk that used to drive me crazy during pack gatherings. Used to? Who am I kidding? It still does.

Five years haven't dimmed my wolf's recognition of what he, wrongly, considers our mate—if anything, the separation has made him more desperate. He catalogs every detail: the confident set of her shoulders, the slight flush in her cheeks, the way her dress shows just enough skin to be professional but still makes my mouth go dry. She's gained a poise she didn't have before, wearing her curves like armor instead of trying to hide them.

Mine,my wolf insists.What are you waiting for?

Memories assault me: how she felt pressed against me in my cabin, the taste of her skin, the way she used to gasp my name. I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

Focus,I tell myself firmly. But it's hard when she's right there, close enough to smell her unique blend of herbs and magic. Close enough to see how the years have refined her beauty, turned the girl I desired into a woman I desperately want. The soft curves I used to trace with reverent hands have grown more lush, more womanly. Her face has lost its last traces of youth, replaced by elegant bone structure that makes her look like some kind of forest goddess.

My wolf preens at how stunning his presumed mate has become, even as guilt churns in my gut. I lost the right to think of her this way when I chose duty over love. When I broke both our hearts for the sake of pack politics, that now seem archaic and meaningless.

"Half-breed has some nerve showing up..."

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