Page 5 of Beckett's Fate

Adjusting her pack on her shoulders, she imagined she could feel the cool glass of the scent-masking vial pressing against her palm.

“Time to go,” she murmured to herself, turning away from the mountains she’d called home for so long.

The Bristlecone Bed & Breakfast was as quaint as Irene had expected—rustic and charming, with flower boxes beneath the windows and a warm glow spilling from the front porch light. The air smelled of fresh rain, the nearby woods humming with nocturnal life.

Irene adjusted her pack on her shoulders, allowing its familiar weight to ground her and remind her why she was here. She glanced around the quiet street before stepping inside.

“Evening!” the voice of the woman she suspected was Ruby Wilder greeted her as she entered. The woman’s sharp eyes took Irene in with a quick once-over. “You must be Irene.”

“That’s me,” Irene said with a practiced smile.

“I’m Ruby. Welcome to the Bristlecone.”

She shifted her weight just enough to appear relaxed, hiding the strain of the unknown coiled beneath her skin. “Thanks for having me.”

Ruby nodded, sliding a key across the counter. “Room three’s all set for you. Breakfast is at eight sharp, and there’s a map of hiking trails in your welcome packet. You’re here for the views, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Irene replied smoothly. “I’ve heard the trails here are incredible.”

Ruby beamed. “They are. Best in the Rockies. Just make sure you check in with me when you head out. I like to keep track of my guests—you wouldn’t believe how many people underestimate these woods.”

“I’m pretty experienced, but I’ll be sure to do that,” Irene promised, pocketing the key and turning toward the stairs. “Thanks again.”

She climbed to the second floor, the old wooden steps creaking beneath her boots. Once inside her room, she locked the door and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath. She’d detected that Ruby was a shifter and reminded herself that so was everyone else in Silver Falls. The vial of scent-masking solution was tucked safely in her pack, its effects already in place. To Ruby—or anyone else she encountered—she was just another human passing through.

But that didn’t make her completely safe.

Heading over to the bed, she removed her pack and pulled out a worn journal. Written in a barely legible scrawl was the legend of the lost silver. She reviewed the pages that led to the description of where the silver was. The diary was a mix of history and folklore, but Irene had sifted through the embellishments, focusing on the details that matched her research.

Her eyes traced the notes she’d scrawled in the margins, her heart racing with the thrill of the hunt. The trails surrounding Silver Falls aligned perfectly with the descriptions in the book. If the silver was here, she would find it.

But first, she needed to blend in, stay unnoticed. Silver Falls might seem like a sleepy mountain town, but she knew better. This was shifter territory, and the alphas of various packs and clans were not people to cross lightly.

She looked over to a chair by the window. Next to it was a small table with a tray. Irene walked over and looked at the note:

Thought you might like something to eat. Let me know if you need anything.

Ruby

Her hostess seemed to be kind and gracious. On the tray was a variety of protein bars and a sandwich on a plate with tomatoes, lettuce, and chips covered in cling wrap. Pulling it open, she inhaled what she thought was the scent of homemade bread with thick slabs of roast beef, cheddar cheese, mustard, and horseradish. Lifting half of it to her mouth, she took a bite and moaned—heaven. Pure heaven.

The next morning, Irene laced up her hiking boots, pocketed the protein bars and adjusted the straps of her pack. Ruby wasbustling around the dining room, pouring coffee and chatting with other guests as Irene slipped out the door.

The air was crisp, the forest alive with the scent of dew and wildflowers. She unfolded the map from her pocket, tracing a route that would take her deep into the woods, where the trails intersected with the landmarks described in the journal. If her calculations were right, this was where she’d find her first clue.

Hours passed as she moved through the dense forest, her senses on high alert. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig set her nerves on edge. She wasn’t afraid of the wilderness. It was the other shifters she was worried about.

Finally, she reached a clearing. A cluster of boulders jutted out of the earth, their surfaces weathered and cracked. Irene knelt, brushing away dirt and debris to reveal faint markings etched into the stone. Her breath caught. This was it—just as the diary had described it.

But as she leaned closer to study the carvings, a faint sound reached her ears. A low growl, barely audible but unmistakable.

Her heart thundered. She straightened slowly, her eyes scanning the trees. She was alone—or so she’d thought.

The growl came again, closer this time. Irene’s pulse raced as she slipped her hand into her jacket, fingers closing around the small knife she always carried. Her scent might be masked, but that wouldn’t protect her if a wolf decided she was prey.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” she said aloud, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. “Just passing through.”

The forest remained silent, but Irene could feel eyes on her, watching, waiting.

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