Page 38 of Knox's Fate

Frustration creased his brow, and with a sudden shove against the rickety table, he stood, sending the chair scraping back against the rugs. His silhouette loomed before her for a moment, dark and foreboding, before he whirled around and stormed out of the tent.

Ruby's ears strained as the heavy canvas flap fell into place, the muffled voices outside threading through to where she sat, alone but for her dread. "...Ivan is on his way," the man's voice grew fainter, but his next words cut through the distance like a knife. "He'll break her. He likes hearing humans scream as he fucks them. That should make her more willing to talk. If not..."

The unfinished threat hung in the chill mountain air, and a shiver racked Ruby's frame, fear crawling up her spine with icy fingers. In that instant, clarity pierced her like the first shocking breath of winter—her life was a currency here, and without the treasure, she was worthless. If Ivan couldn't extract what they wanted from her... Her eyes closed briefly, and she steeled herself for the nightmare yet to unfold.

CHAPTER 20

KNOX

Knox's muscles ached with the relentless pace, each step up the mountain steeped in vigilance. Beckett flanked their captive, his nostrils flaring for any scent of deceit. The rogue shifter before them—a wiry creature with eyes that darted like trapped prey—picked through the terrain, leading them ever deeper into the heart of the mountains.

"Talk," Knox grunted, his voice laced with both command and weariness. He needed answers, and the endless march had done nothing to loosen the rogue's tongue about their true purpose.

"Treasure," the rogue spat out, as if the word burned his lips. "Power beyond measure... to aid the bearer."

Knox's grip on the rogue tightened. Treasure was a fairy tale told to children, but desperation gleamed in the shifter's eyes—a sign that he believed the story to be more truth than myth. He glanced over at Beckett, who turned his head towards the sound of a distant rockslide, a silent reminder of the peril they faced.

"Who sent you?" Knox tried again, his patience waning as thin as the air high up in the mountains.

"Doesn't matter," the rogue muttered, his gaze fixed on the unseen horizon. "The treasure cares nothing for allegiance."

A cold wind swept through the pass, carrying with it the scent of pine and an unspoken threat. Knox knew they were close; the rogue's nervous energy was as palpable as the tension that coiled in his own gut. With every step, the danger grew, the suspense threading through the very atmosphere they breathed. Knox sensed the pivotal nature of this quest—not just for himself or Beckett, but for the entire clan, pack, and town they’d sworn to protect.

The treacherous terrain gave way to a clearing where the scent of wood smoke was faint but undeniable. Knox, with his hand firm on the captured rogue's shoulder, stopped just short of the camp's boundary. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his senses on high alert for any sign of ambush.

"Tell me," Knox demanded in a low growl, "how many wait within?"

"Five," the rogue replied, a hint of reluctance threading his voice. "But one's not fit to fight—not after what you did the other day, and the one you hold is brother to our leader, Malakar."

Knox met Beckett's gaze, exchanging a wordless conversation that spoke of years fighting side by side. They understood the risks, the potential for bloodshed. Without a sound, they both nodded, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Four rogues then," Knox murmured, more to himself than to Beckett. "We've handled worse odds."

"Two to one," Beckett agreed, his lips curling into a half-smirk, half-snarl. "I’d say we've got this, Knox."

"Agreed," Knox replied, his voice like gravel, charged with the promise of the fight to come. His fingers twitched near the hilt of his blade, itching for action but restrained by strategy.

Together, they advanced, stepping into the fringe of the enemy's territory with the confidence of warriors who knew the dance of danger all too well.

Knox's grip tightened on the rogue's arm, the muscles in his forearm standing out like taut ropes as he marched into the heart of the camp. His boots slogged through the snow and ice, each step measured and defined against the hush of mountain wind through the trees. Beckett flanked him, a silent sentinel whose very presence was a threat to any who dared to challenge them.

The camp was rudimentary, a few tents huddled around a fire pit that smoldered with dying embers. The air was thick with the scent of charred wood and unwashed bodies. As they entered, the stillness shattered. One of the men tasked with guarding Ruby spotted them and released a low, menacing growl, a sound that rumbled through the clearing like distant thunder.

That growl was the signal, the catalyst for action. Shadows detached from the surrounding forest, materializing into the forms of three other rogues, their postures bristling with hostility. They encircled Knox and Beckett, their eyes alight with the gleam of predators facing down intruders.

"Speak," Knox commanded, his voice calm but edged with authority. He kept the rogue close, a firm reminder of his upper hand. "You have a woman—one of the citizens of Silver Falls. You will return her to me unharmed. Why are you here? What is it you seek?"

The rogue shifters exchanged glances, a silent communication before one stepped forward, his stance wary but defiant.

"Treasure," he said simply. "Legends speak of it—power for those who claim it."

"Legends," Knox scoffed, a flash of disdain crossing his rugged features. "If it ever existed, it’s doubtful that it still does. And even if it does, no one in Silver Falls has known its location for generations. It's nothing but a ghost tale to scare the children—to keep them off the mountain or from wandering too far from town."

“The old woman knew. The beaver-shifter, but she refused to give up her secrets.”

"And the woman is her descendant…” another rogue challenged, his gaze flicking toward the tent where Ruby was presumably being held.

"Ruby knows even less," Knox replied flatly, his tone brooking no argument. "She's an outsider. To her, tales of treasure and shifters are just that—stories to be enjoyed in the novels she reads. She has no knowledge of the treasure’s existence, let alone its whereabouts."

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