Page 19 of Beckett's Fate

“I know, I know,” Ruby said, frustration lacing her words. “But she’s not from around here. These woods?—”

“Are dangerous,” Beck finished for her.

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “Please, Beck. Can you just... check? Make sure she’s okay?”

He didn’t need convincing. The thought of Irene lost—or worse—in his wilderness sent a surge of protective anger through him, sharp and hot. But he kept his tone calm. “I’ll go look for her. Do you have any idea where she was heading?”

“She mentioned a ridge near the south trailhead,” Ruby said. “But she didn’t say much else. She’s pretty secretive. I don’t think she’s just here to hike.”

Beck exhaled sharply through his nose. “Neither do I.” He paused, the wheels in his mind turning. “Do you have somethingof hers? An article of clothing, maybe? Something she’s worn recently.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then Ruby said, “I can get something from her room. Give me a few minutes.”

“Bring it to the office,” Beck said, already standing and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll head out as soon as I have it.”

“Thank you, Beck,” Ruby said, the relief in her voice palpable.

He hung up and shrugged into his jacket, the familiar weight settling over his shoulders. His wolf stirred restlessly in the back of his mind, eager and impatient. This wasn’t just another search-and-rescue mission. This was Irene.

He didn’t bother to examine why that mattered so much.

Fifteen minutes later, Ruby arrived, her face pale but determined as she handed over a scarf. “She wore this yesterday,” she said. “It should help.”

Beck nodded, taking the scarf and catching the faintest trace of Irene’s scent—wild and sweet, with that maddeningly elusive undercurrent he couldn’t quite place. It sent a jolt through him, his wolf growling softly in approval and concern.

“I’ll find her,” he said, meeting Ruby’s worried gaze.

Ruby hesitated, then nodded. “Be careful out there, Beck. If the hunters are still around...”

“I’ll handle them,” he said firmly.

With that, he stepped outside, the cool mountain air biting against his skin as he headed toward his SUV. His wolf stirred again, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he raised the scarf to his nose. Irene’s scent was strong enough to guide him, and he set off toward the south trailhead with a single-minded focus.

The drive was short, but the tension in his chest only grew. By the time he reached the trailhead, the sun was beginning to dip, the shadows beginning to stretch along the ground. Heparked and stepped out, the forest alive with life and something else, something more sinister.

Beck took the garment, his fingers brushing the fabric as he raised it to his nose. The scent hit him like a bolt of lightning—wildflowers, earth after rain, and something deeper, richer, that spoke to the most primal part of him. It was uniquely Irene, and his wolf stirred immediately, growling low in his chest.

The recognition slammed into him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His fated mate. There was no mistaking it now. The undeniable pull, the way her scent seemed to weave itself into his very being. The protective instincts of his wolf surged, a sharp, possessive growl rumbling deep within him.

Fated mate. No doubt about it.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

With sure steps, he followed her trail, his senses on high alert. The deeper he went, the more the forest seemed to shift around him, the air growing heavier, the shadows more pronounced. He picked up his pace, the primal pull of his wolf urging him forward.

Irene was out here. And no matter what—or who—was standing in his way, he was going to bring her back.

He picked up his pace, the scent of Irene clinging to him like a beacon. His wolf paced restlessly in his mind, eager and impatient. She was out there—his mate—and she was in trouble. He could feel it. Beck wasted no time, his powerful strides taking him up the trail where he paused, inhaling deeply. Her scent lingered faintly on the breeze, leading him on.

Deciding he could make better time as his wolf, Beck removed his clothes, bundled them up with his sidearm and called forth his more primal self. The familiar mist swirled up around him and he shifted effortlessly into his wolf form, the transformation quick and seamless. His powerful black coat gleamed in the dappled sunlight as he sniffed the air again, hiseyes scanning the dense trees ahead. The scent was stronger now, guiding him like a thread through the wilderness.

Lifting his head, Beck let out a powerful howl, the sound reverberating through the trees. It was a call, a summons for her to come to him, to let him know where she was. The howl carried his urgency, his need, his promise to protect her.

The forest fell silent in its wake, the air thick with anticipation. He strained to hear a response, but none came.

Beck’s growl rumbled low and dangerous in his throat, his wolf bristling with frustration. She wasn’t answering, but he could feel her presence like a faint hum in his chest, a connection that told him she was still out there—and in trouble.

His wolf instincts sharpened, directing him toward the ridge Ruby had mentioned. Her scent grew fainter as he moved, interspersed with other, sharper smells—gun oil, sweat, the sweet pungent smell of fear. His hackles rose. Hunters.