Page 28 of Beckett's Fate

“Close enough,” Beck said, his voice carrying a note of admiration. “Takes strength to build something like that. Resourcefulness, too.”

Surprise flickered across her face before she masked it, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate. “We didn’t have much of a choice. It was either survive or... don’t.”

Beck’s eyes darkened, a flicker of understanding passing through them. “I respect that,” he said quietly.

Irene allowed herself to relax, the intensity of his steady gaze feeling less suffocating than before. She hadn’t expected him to react this way—not with respect and curiosity rather than suspicion or judgment.

“But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Beck said, his tone soft but probing. “Or why the hunters are after you.”

Irene exhaled slowly, her mind racing. “The hunters aren’t after me specifically,” she said carefully. “At least I don’t think so. I think they may be looking for the same thing I am.”

Beck leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “The treasure.”

Irene hesitated, stress creeping back into her shoulders. “It’s not just a treasure,” she said slowly. “It’s a piece of history—something that could change everything for my pack.”

“Change everything how?” Beck pressed.

“I can’t say,” Irene admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

Beck’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Irene. That treasure—if it even exists—has drawn more than its fair share of trouble over the years. People have died looking for it.”

“I know the risks,” Irene said sharply. “I’m not doing this on a whim.”

“Then why not tell me what you know?” Beck asked, his tone firm but not unkind. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Irene looked away, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “Because if I tell you, it puts you and everyone in Silver Falls in danger. It’s better if I handle this myself.”

Beck’s hand came down on the table, not hard, but enough to draw her attention. “You’re not handling this alone,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “Not anymore. Whether you like it or not, you’re in my territory. That makes this my problem, too.”

Irene’s heart twisted at the conviction in his voice, the protective edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “If I fail... if they find it first...”

“I won’t let that happen,” Beck said firmly.

The certainty in his words made her chest ache, the walls she’d built around herself threatening to crack under the force of his conviction. But she couldn’t afford to let them fall—not yet.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible. “For everything. But I can’t let you take this risk for me.”

Beck leaned back, his sharp gaze never leaving hers. “I think you underestimate me, Irene.”

The air between them was charged with a simmering sexual attraction and tension, the pull she’d tried so hard to ignore tugging at her. Beck was more than she’d expected—stronger, sharper, and far more relentless.

And as she looked into his eyes, she realized she was in more trouble than she’d ever imagined.

The sound of the doorbell broke the spell, signaling another customer entering the diner. Irene glanced toward the door, her heart racing as the familiar scent of gun oil and sweat reached her nose.

Beck’s sharp gaze followed hers, his posture stiffening as he caught the same scent.

“We’re not alone,” he muttered. “And I’m the sheriff. This is my town.”

Irene’s pulse quickened, her breath catching as she met his gaze. The storm brewing in his eyes mirrored her own. Beck slid out of the booth and approached the hunters.

11

BECK

The sharp chime of the Rusty Fork’s doorbell cut through the diner’s low hum of conversation. Beck’s sharp gaze followed Irene’s to the two men stepping through the doorway. They weren’t locals and he couldn’t be sure they were the same men he’d seen before. Their stiff postures and predatory energy marked them as hunters. Their clothes, worn and stained with dirt, told him they’d spent time in the woods. The faint but unmistakable tang of gun oil and sweat followed them like a warning.

Hunters.