“Her name,” Amelia declares, “must be added to the lottery.”
Chapter 7 - Fern
Every pair of eyes in the clearing turns to stare at me.
I stand frozen at the edge of the torchlight with my hiking boots rooted to the forest floor. Dozens of faces watch me with expressions ranging from shock to curiosity to outright hostility. The old woman on the raised platform—the one who just declared my name should be added to some kind of lottery—hasn’t looked away from me once.
I hurry to explain, “I’m so sorry. I was just hiking, and I heard voices and—”
“There are no mistakes in the Hollow,” the old woman insists. “The spirits guide all who enter this sacred space.”
I take a step backward, ready to bolt into the darkness. “I’m not a shifter. I’m human. I can’t be part of whatever this is.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, and I only catch snippets of what they’re saying. “Unprecedented.” “Never happened before.” “What is Amelia thinking?” My panic ratchets up another notch with each passing second.
Then a familiar face appears at my side. Skylar, the nurse from the medical center, takes my elbow and steers me away from the crowd’s direct line of sight, positioning us near a thick oak at the clearing’s edge.
“Breathe,” she instructs. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I might.” I press a hand to my chest and feel my heart slamming against my ribs. “Connor told me about the lottery, but he never mentioned it was happening tonight. And he certainly didn’t mention he was the one being matched.”
Skylar winces. “He probably didn’t want to scare you off. You’d only just learned about us being shifters.”
“So this is his lottery?” I glance toward the platform where the old woman is conferring with the Alpha. “And that woman wants to put my name in the bowl?”
Skylar nods and replies, “Elder Amelia. She’s the head of our council. I’ve never seen her do anything like this before. A human has never participated in the lottery. Not once in our entire history.”
I look around the crowd and find Connor standing in an outer ring with his blue eyes fixed on me. When he catches me looking, he offers a small, uncertain smile.
I look away quickly and return my attention to Skylar. “This is insane. I’ve been in this town for less than a week. I’m not a pack member, and I’m certainly not a werewolf. How can they possibly expect me to participate in something like this?”
“They believe strongly in fate here. If Elder Amelia says the spirits sent you here for a reason, people will listen.” Skylar pauses and studies my face. “Can I ask you something?”
“I suppose.”
“You’re running from something, aren’t you? Something bad.”
I don’t answer, but my silence must be enough of an answer.
“I thought so. The way you showed up here, the way you flinch at sudden noises, the way you’re always checking over your shoulder… I recognize the signs.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that Silvercreek can protect you. Whatever you’re running from, whoever is chasing you, the pack can keep you safe. But the truth is, we only protect our own. Outsiders come and go. Pack members stay.”
The implication settles over me like a heavy blanket. If I want the pack’s protection, I need to become part of the pack. And apparently, the lottery is one way to make that happen.
“This is crazy,” I repeat, though my voice lacks conviction.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s exactly what you need.” Skylar gently squeezes my arm. “Look, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t strange. Like I said, a human has never participated in the lottery before. You’d be the first. But Elder Amelia doesn’t make declarations like that lightly. If she believes the spirits guided you here tonight, there’s probably a reason for it.”
I glance back at Connor. He’s talking to another man now, but his gaze keeps drifting in my direction. I remember the way he looked at me this afternoon by the stream, the gentleness in his voice when he promised I’d be safe. The way my pulse quickened when he smiled at me on my first day in town, before I knew anything about werewolves or lotteries or ancient pack traditions.
The attraction is there. I can’t deny it.
But attraction is one thing. Marriage is something else entirely. Marriage to a supernatural being, no less.
“Even if I agreed to this,” I begin, “I’d be binding myself to a werewolf. That’s not exactly what I pictured for my future.”
