Page 51 of Beckett's Fate
Her wolf stirred at his words, a primal response she couldn’t fully suppress. But Irene wasn’t about to let him win this battle so easily. “You think you can just decide that for me?” she asked, working up the level of defiance that laced her tone.
“I don’t need to decide,” Beck said, his voice low and firm. “You already have.”
The words hit her like a blow, and she took a step back, her wolf bristling. “You’re insufferable,” she growled, her hands curling into fists.
Beck chuckled, the sound rich and infuriatingly confident. “Relentless. But if you’d like to challenge my claim, you’re welcome to run from me,” he said, taking another step closer, “It won’t do you any good because I’ll just run you down, Irene. Every time.”
Her growl deepened, her wolf snarling just beneath the surface. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His grin widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “More than I should, probably. But let’s not pretend, Irene—you have nowhere to run. And let’s not forget, you capitulated.”
Irene’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing with equal parts anger and embarrassment. “I didn’t capitulate,” she snapped. “I made a choice. There’s a difference.”
Beck raised a brow, his expression infuriatingly calm. “Call it what you want, sweetheart. The result’s the same.”
Her wolf rumbled with frustration, and she let out a low growl, the sound primal and fierce. But Beck didn’t flinch. Instead, he moved closer, his large hands reaching out to gently grip her arms.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice softening as his thumbs brushed over her skin. “I’m not your enemy, Irene.”
Her growl faltered, the heat of his touch seeping into her, calming her despite herself. She hated how easily he affectedher, how his presence seemed to strip away her defenses and leave her raw and exposed.
“You’re infuriating,” she muttered, her voice losing some of its bite.
Beck’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “And you’re stubborn,” he said. “Guess that makes us even.”
They stood like that for a moment, the tension between them shifting into something heavier, more complicated. Finally, Beck released her arms, stepping back and gesturing toward the couch by the fire.
“Sit with me,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument.
Irene hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to keep her distance. But the pull of him was too strong, the need to understand him—and herself—overwhelming. With a sigh, she moved to the couch and sat down, her movements wary.
Beck joined her, his solid presence a comforting weight beside her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the crackling fire filling the silence. Then Beck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he turned his gaze to her.
“You’ve heard the stories about the silver,” he began, his voice low and steady.
Irene nodded slowly. “Enough to know there’s more truth to them than most people think,” she said cautiously. “What about it?”
“It’s more than just treasure,” Beck said, his expression serious. “It’s part of the history of Silver Falls—the entire town is wrapped up into its history. You know the legend that humans have been told, but there’s a separate legend that ties the shifters to the silver, a connection that’s deeper than most realize.”
Irene frowned, leaning in slightly. “Go on.”
Beck’s eyes met hers, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “The silver isn’t just valuable. It’s powerful. It was used toforge the first bonds between the packs and clans, to establish this town as a place all shifters can be safe. The silver—the bits and pieces we’ve found over the years—created the pacts that have kept our people united for generations.”
“You know where it is?”
He shook his, chuckling ruefully. No. Nobody does, but when one of the packs or clans or the whole town need it, it just kind of randomly shows up in places we know it wasn’t before. The problem became that as time went on, greed and betrayal tore the bonds between some of the packs and clans apart. We now believe the silver was scattered, hidden away to protect it and the power it represents.”
“And now?” Irene asked, her voice quieter.
“Now, it’s a symbol,” Beck said. “A reminder of what we’ve lost—and what we could regain. But in the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. That’s why the hunters want it. They don’t just see treasure—they see power. And they’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”
The impact of his words settled over her, the gravity of their situation sinking in. She stared into the fire, her mind racing.
“So, what do we do?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We find it first,” Beck said, his tone resolute. “And we make sure it stays out of their hands. We restore it to its intended use.”
Irene nodded, a new spark of commitment igniting within her. But even as she met Beck’s gaze, a question lingered in the back of her mind—a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.