Page 23 of Beckett's Fate

“Not entirely,” Beck said, his voice low. “But she’s not telling the whole truth either. And I don’t like not knowing what we’re dealing with.”

Des nodded slowly. “So what’s the plan?”

“Keep an eye on her,” Beck said firmly. “And the hunters. If they’re after her, they might lead us to whatever she’s hiding.”

“And if she’s leading them to us?” Des asked, his tone dark.

Beck’s wolf bristled, the thought sending a surge of anger through him. “She’s not.”

Des studied him for a long moment, then grinned. “She’s got you twisted up, doesn’t she? If I didn’t know better…”

“Don’t start; you don’t know better,” Beck growled, his tone warning.

Des chuckled, pushing off the doorframe. “Just saying. Be careful, Beck. If she is what we’re not saying she is, then she’s not the only one hiding something.”

Beck didn’t respond as Des left, the door clicking softly shut behind him. He stared out the window, the wilderness with its vast forest, mountains and rivers stretching endlessly beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, Irene’s secrets lurked, tangled with danger and the undeniable pull that tied her to him.

His wolf growled low in his chest, the sound a promise: he would protect her, and he would uncover the truth—no matter the cost.

The steady crackle of the fire in his office hearth did little to soothe the storm brewing in Beck’s chest. He stood and leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the scarf draped over the chair across from him where he’d tossed it. Irene’s scent lingered faintly in the air—a maddening, intoxicating reminder of the woman who had upended his careful balance.

Her words echoed in his mind, clipped and cautious, laced with both fear and defiance.

‘You can’t call them—Because it’ll put me in danger.’

Beck’s instincts screamed at him to ignore her plea, to reach out to the alphas in New Mexico and demand answers. He couldn’t imagine any of them forcing a bond on a she-wolf. That kind of behavior went against the very principles of leadership he’d always respected in them. But there’d been a fire in her eyes, a raw honesty in her fear that made him hesitate.

“She’s hiding something,” Beck muttered under his breath, his wolf growling in agreement.

The question waswhat.Her story had contained enough truth woven into it to make him pause. He could sense the pain beneath her words, the vulnerability she fought to keep buried. But it wasn’t just her past that she was guarding so fiercely.

Why is she here?

Beck pushed away from the desk, pacing the room with long, deliberate strides. His boots echoed softly on the wooden floor as he tried to piece together the puzzle Irene had become.

She wasn’t just here to hike. That much was obvious. Her movements, her searches, the way she lingered in certain parts of the forest—it all pointed to a purpose she wasn’t willing to share.

His gaze flicked to the corner of the room where a detailed map of Silver Falls and its surrounding wilderness was pinned to the wall. The marked trails, the hidden paths—he knew themall by heart. And yet, Irene seemed to have her own map, one he couldn’t see.

The treasure. It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.

The thought settled heavily in his mind. Silver Falls had always been shrouded in the stories of the lost/haunted/cursed treasure as well as whispered tales of silver veins hidden deep within the mountains. Most visitors dismissed the legends as nothing more than folklore, but a few treasure hunters had come and gone over the years, their hopes dashed against the unforgiving wilderness.

Was that why Irene was here?

The idea both irritated and intrigued him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, for Irene, the search was personal—that perhaps she knew something the others had not.

Beck stilled, his wolf pacing restlessly in the back of his mind. What would drive someone like Irene—a runaway, a woman clearly capable of surviving on her own—to chase a legend?

The fire crackled again, snapping him out of his thoughts. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His instincts urged him to act, to dig deeper, to demand the truth from her. But he had given her his word—reluctantly—that he wouldn’t contact her pack. He chuckled. Come to think of it, she hadn’t told him which pack it was supposed to be.

For now, he would honor that promise, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find answers.

The next morning, Beck stood at the edge of the ridge Irene had glanced at several times on their walk back to the B&B. The crispmountain air filled his lungs as he scanned the landscape, his mind replaying the fragmented pieces of Irene’s story.

He crouched near the base of a rocky outcrop, brushing his fingers over a faint carving etched into the stone. It was weathered, almost invisible to the untrained eye, but he knew it well—a mark left by those who had come before, seeking the treasure that had remained elusive for generations.

Is that what she’s looking for?

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