Page 3 of Fat Betrayed Mate
I laugh, trying to cover my stomach with my hands—always self-conscious about my curves. He captures my wrists, pins them above my head with one large hand.
"Don't hide from me," he says, his eyes flashing wolf-gold. "I want to see all of you."
Later, wrapped in his arms, watching the sunset through his bedroom window, he traces patterns on my back and makes promises.
"When I'm done with my training mission, we'll tell everyone. No more sneaking around. I don't care what anyone thinks—you're mine, Fiona."
I believe him. God help me, I believe every word.
The memory shatters as a voice calls Thomas's name. I peek from beneath my lashes to see James Morgan, the Alpha's Head of Security and closest friend, approaching him. Thomas stands straighter, nodding at whatever James is saying. He looks the same, yet different—broader shoulders, harder jaw, eyes that have seen too much. His blonde hair is shorter now, his face more weathered. Six years as the pack's top enforcer has left its mark.
In a moment of weakness, I let myself wonder—does he ever think of me? Does he know about Maisie? Does he lie awake at night regretting the way he discarded us?
An apple slips from my grasp, thumping against the ground and rolling. It stops at the boot of a passing pack member, who bends to retrieve it.
"Here you go, Fiona," says Ruby Mulligan, offering the fruit with a gentle smile. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
More than a ghost—the man who haunts me.
"I'm fine." I take the apple, avoiding her knowing gaze. Ruby has always been too perceptive. "Thanks."
"They're saying there's another Lottery," she says, voice low.
My fingers tighten around the apple. "Why are you telling me this?"
Ruby's expression softens with pity I can't stand. "Because rumors spread fast here, and I thought you should hear it from a friend first. We should be sticking together, right? Us outcasts.”
Friend. The word catches me off-guard. I haven't had friends since I left Silvercreek; I've been too busy surviving and too focused on raising Maisie. Ruby and I were never close—she’s two or three years my junior, so we didn’t attend the same classes or graduate at the same time. But she’s always been kind to me.
"It doesn't concern me," I say, the lie brittle on my tongue.
Ruby squeezes my arm gently. "If you say so. Just... be careful, Fiona.”
I finish my shopping quickly after that, feeling Thomas's presence like a physical weight. Once, twice, I sense him lookingin my direction, but I never meet his gaze. I can't risk it—the anger and hurt are too raw, too dangerous.
The walk home feels longer, my shopping bags heavier. I try not to think about the Lottery, about Thomas, about the colossal unfairness of being forced back to the place that rejected me, only to face the prospect of being thrown into his path again.
My cottage offers little relief when I finally reach it. The emptiness echoes with memories I've spent years suppressing. I unpack the groceries methodically, hands moving through familiar motions while my mind races. The stipend notification sits on the counter—a reminder of my dependence on pack charity, a leash binding me to Silvercreek until Maisie is old enough to leave safely.
I've just finished putting away the last of the groceries when a knock at the door startles me. No one visits us here.
The mail carrier stands on my porch, holding an official-looking envelope sealed with the pack's crest.
"Council correspondence," he says, with a curious look that tells me he's already guessing at its contents.
"Thank you." I take the envelope, closing the door on his inquisitive gaze.
My hands tremble as I break the seal. The heavy parchment feels like a death sentence as I unfold it.
"By decree of the Council of Elders, a Mate Lottery will be held for Thomas Ennes, Right-Hand of the Alpha of the Silvercreek pack, on the night of the Harvest Moon..."
The words blur as blood rushes in my ears.
This isn't happening. Can't be happening. After everything—after he cast me aside like I meant nothing, after Ibuilt a life for Maisie and me far from here, after we were forced to return—fate can't be this cruel.
I sink to the floor, back against the kitchen cabinets, letter clutched in my fist. The Mate Lottery pools all unmated females between the ages of twenty and thirty. At twenty-six, I fall squarely within the eligible range. My name will be in that cursed bowl, alongside every other available female pack member.
What are the odds, I wonder bitterly, of lightning striking twice? Of Thomas drawing my name the way Nic drew Luna's? Astronomical, surely.
