Page 56 of Beckett's Fate
When the final words were spoken, the clearing erupted into cheers and howls of celebration. Irene laughed, the sound light and unrestrained as Beck pulled her into his arms, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that left no room for doubt. She was his, and he was hers—now and always.
As the celebration continued around them, Irene found herself pulled into a whirlwind of warmth and acceptance. The pack members she hadn’t met introduced themselves, their easy smiles and genuine welcomes easing the last remnants of her doubt. Her group of women mingled with the pack, their laughter and tentative camaraderie a sight that filled her chest with a quiet, overwhelming joy.
Much later, as the crowd began to disperse, Irene and Beck walked hand in hand back toward the mansion.
“This feels like a dream,” Irene said, her voice soft as she glanced at Beck. “Like it’s too good to be true.”
“It’s real,” Beck replied, his tone steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to run anymore, Irene. You don’t have to fight alone. You have me, the pack, this town. You have a home.”
Her throat tightened, and she stopped, turning to face him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “For everything. For not giving up on me, even when I made it hard.”
Beck cupped her face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. “There was never a chance of that,” he said. “You’re my mate, Irene. My home. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
The sincerity in his words undid her, and she leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him with all the love and gratitude she couldn’t put into words.
When they finally pulled apart, Beck smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Welcome home, Irene.”
She smiled back, her heart swelling as she took his hand once more. Together, they climbed the steps to the mansion, the future stretching out before them like a promise. Silver Falls was no longer just a place on a map—it was her home. And Beck? He was her forever.
As they stepped inside, the sound of a distant howl echoed through the night—a call of unity, of strength, of the new beginning they had forged together.
The moon hung low over Silver Falls, casting pale light over the clearing where the members of the Wildhaven Clan gathered.Flint Mercer stood tall, his muscular frame radiating strength and dominance, his tawny hair glinting like burnished gold in the moonlight. His golden eyes scanned the assembled shifters, some glaring with distrust, others with the faintest flicker of hope.
“Silas,” Flint growled, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “You’ve led this clan into ruin. Young males exiled. She-cats used as bargaining chips for alliances they didn’t want. It ends now.”
Across the clearing, Silas stepped forward, a smirk twisting his lips. His broad shoulders and sinewy frame still bore the confidence of a seasoned alpha, though his dark eyes narrowed with the hint of unease. “You’ve been gone too long, Mercer,” Silas sneered. “The clan isn’t yours—it never was.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Flint countered, his voice steady, like the calm before a storm. “Step down, Silas. I won’t ask again.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as Silas’s smirk fell. His claws extended, his body already beginning to shift. “If you want my place, you’ll have to take it. I’ll show everyone here why I’m still their alpha.”
Flint’s jaw clenched as he met Silas’s challenge head-on. “So be it.”
The shift was almost instantaneous. Flint’s powerful body transformed, his tawny hair replaced by a sleek, muscular coat of golden fur. Silas, smaller and slower, roared as he lunged, his claws slicing through the air with deadly intent.
The two mountain lions collided in a flurry of claws, fangs, and raw power. Flint dodged Silas’s strike and countered with a vicious swipe across the older male’s flank. Blood spattered the forest floor, and those gathered gasped, some stepping back, others leaning in with bated breath.
“You’ve grown soft, Silas!” called one of the others who surrounded them.
Flint snarled, his voice a guttural growl through his lion’s throat. He leapt onto Silas’s back, claws digging deep into muscle, forcing the older male to the ground.
Silas roared in rage, twisting to throw Flint off, but Flint was relentless. Years of Force Recon training, honed instincts, and pure determination gave him an edge. He sank his teeth into Silas’s shoulder, his golden eyes blazing with dominance.
With a final, savage roar, Flint delivered the fatal blow, his claws raking across Silas’s throat. The older lion collapsed, his body shifting back into human form, lifeless.
Flint shifted back, standing naked and bloodied, his chest heaving as he surveyed the clan. Silence blanketed the clearing as the shifters processed what they had witnessed.
“Those loyal to Silas,” Flint said, his voice steady but unyielding, “have a choice. Accept me as your alpha or leave Wildhaven. There is no middle ground.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, heads bowed in submission. Flint exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders.
Wes, his younger brother, stepped forward. His wiry build and sharp features were a stark contrast to Flint’s bulk, but the determination in his amber eyes mirrored Flint’s. “We’ll rebuild, Flint. I’ve already started. The ones Silas drove off—they’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Flint’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Wes crossed his arms, his lips twitching into a grin. “They’ve got a camp up in the mountains. I’ve been keeping them informed, letting them know when you’d return. They’re ready to come back.”
Flint stared at his brother, admiration and pride swelling in his chest. “You’ve been doing this all along? Why didn’t you tell me?”