Page 18 of Beckett's Fate
“This is insane,” Sophie said, her voice rising. “We’re stronger together. Let us help you.”
“You’re helping by staying put, ensuring the safety of the pack,” Irene said firmly. “Do not come to Silver Falls. I mean it, Sophie. This is my problem to handle, and I’m handling it.”
A stringent silence hung between them, broken only by the faint hum of the call. Finally, Sophie sighed, her voice laced with reluctant agreement. “Fine. But if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming. With or without your permission.”
Irene closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll hear from me. I promise.”
“Be careful,” Sophie said, her tone softening again. “We can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” Irene said, though her words felt hollow even to her. “I’ll call you soon.”
Irene ended the call and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, her heart still racing from the argument. She turned to head back toward the trail but froze when the faint snap of a branch broke the silence behind her.
Her pulse spiked as she spun, her hand instinctively moving to the knife at her belt. Three figures emerged from the shadows, their movements slow and deliberate. Two men flanked a third, their rifles trained on her, while the leader—a tall man with a cold, calculating gaze—stepped forward.
“Well, well,” the leader drawled, his voice low and menacing. “Look who we’ve found.”
Irene’s eyes darted between them, her mind racing. The hunters were too close, their weapons ready. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, but she had to find the treasure. Her pack was depending on her.
“You gave us quite a chase,” the leader continued, his lips curling into a malevolent smile. “But it looks like your luck just ran out.”
Irene forced herself to stay calm, even as her wolf growled within her. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I don’t have anything you want.”
The man chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I think you have exactly what we want.”
The atmosphere was stifling, the intensity of their stares pressing down on her. Irene’s hand tightened on her knife, her mind calculating her odds. She might be able to take down one of them, but not all three—and not without getting herself killed in the process.
The leader took another step closer, his rifle still trained on her. “Why don’t you make this easy on yourself? Come with us, and no one has to get hurt.”
Her lips curled into a defiant snarl. “Not a chance.”
The man’s smile faded, his expression hardening. “Suit yourself.”
Before he could say more, a long, low howl cut through the air—a sound so powerful, so primal, that it gripped Irene like a force of nature. It wasn’t just a sound; it was a summons, pulling her toward it with an intensity she couldn’t resist. Her heart raced, her instincts screaming that she needed to go, now.
The hunters were in her way, an immovable barrier between her and whatever was calling her. She didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. The knife was in her hand before she even realized it, glinting in the dim light as she lunged at the nearest man.
Chaos exploded around her. Shouts and curses tore through the forest, mingling with the sharp crack of gunfire. Irene moved like a predator unleashed, her body reacting faster than her thoughts as she fought with a ferocity that surprised even her. The world around her blurred into a storm of movement and sound, her singular focus on survival—and the inexplicable pull that refused to let her go.
8
BECK
The end of a long day was approaching. Beck snorted—long day. Breaking up an argument between two of the older alphas in the village, catching a couple of kids skipping school, writing a speeding ticket to Knox—well, that was actually kind of fun. Not much of real significance or crime happened in Silver Falls, and Beck often wondered if the salary he was paid was justified.
Beck leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the radio filling the silence as he scanned through reports from the past few days. Minor infractions, the occasional dispute—nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to write it off as same ole, same ole, but the nagging feeling in his gut told him something was coming.
The sharp trill of his desk phone broke the quiet, and he grabbed it on the second ring. “Grey,” he said, his voice clipped.
“It’s Ruby,” came the familiar voice from the other end, tinged with unease.
Beck sat up straighter. Ruby Wilder didn’t rattle easily, but there was an edge to her tone that set him on alert. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Irene,” Ruby said, her words rushed. “She went out hiking this morning, and said she’d be back by noon at the latest. We were going to have lunch. It’s past two now, and there’s no sign of her.”
Beck’s growled low in his throat. Irene. The woman had been a thorn in his side—and a constant distraction—since the first time their paths had crossed. He’d observed some of her ‘hiking,’ which appeared far more like a search. She was looking for something. A lot of hikers came looking for the lost treasure, but Irene had seemed to have information the others hadn’t. And now, she was late coming back from a hike. Ruby’s worry wasn’t something he could easily brush off.
“Ruby, you know we can’t consider someone officially missing until they’ve been gone at least forty-eight hours. It’s only been a couple of hours. I’m not sure it’s time to call in the cavalry,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was measured, friendly, professional, but even as he said the words, the unease in his gut twisted tighter.