Page 7 of Beckett's Fate

She took another step back, then turned and started toward the trail, her movements careful but quick. Beck let her go, his instincts warring with his reason. Everything about her screamed caution, mystery, and trouble—a combination thatshould’ve set him on edge but instead ignited a deeper, far more primal interest.

He waited until she was out of sight before stepping into the clearing. The scent of her lingered, faint and faintly... wrong. He couldn’t place it, but it gnawed at him, pushing him toward a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to face.

Kneeling by the boulders, he brushed his hand over the carvings, frowning. They were old, cryptic, and deeply tied to the town’s history. Only someone with specific knowledge would know to look for them.

“She’s not just here to hike,” he muttered, his voice low.

The wolf inside him growled in agreement, eager for answers. Beck stood, staring in the direction she’d gone. She was far more than she seemed. He didn’t know what her game was, but he was damn sure going to find out.

And if she was a threat to Silver Falls—or to him—he’d handle her. No matter how beautiful or intriguing she was.

The bell above the Rusty Forks’—the local diner—door jingled, a cheerful sound that clashed with Beck’s tightly wound mood. Sitting at the corner booth, his back to the wall, he had a clear view of the door and the counter beyond. As sheriff of Silver Falls—and the alpha of his pack—it was second nature to keep his senses tuned to every shift in his surroundings.

When the stranger walked in, though, everything else faded.

She wasn’t like the usual hikers who passed through town, all bright smiles and loud chatter. Irene carried herself differently—like someone used to being watched. Her every move was calculated and deliberate. Her red hair, loosed from her ponytail, fell wild around her face and shoulders. It caught thelight streaming through the windows, and her eyes swept the room like a predator sizing up its prey.

Beck’s wolf stirred again as he felt his cock tighten behind his fly.

She didn’t seem to notice him at first, her focus on the chalkboard menu above the counter. But Beck’s gaze lingered. He had to know more about her—the woman who had wandered into his town, poking around places she had no business being, with a scent that didn’t add up.

When Irene stepped up to the counter, the chatter of the diner hushed for a moment. Even small towns like Silver Falls had their fair share of curious eyes and wagging tongues, and strangers were a novelty. Ruby’s description of her had been dead-on: beautiful, with an edge that hinted at secrets.

He didn’t have to wait long to catch her attention.

“Coffee, black,” Irene said to the waitress, her voice low and smooth. “And the roast beef with horseradish sauce sandwich, to go.”

“To go?” Beck’s voice cut through the quiet. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes meeting hers as a slow smile curved his lips. “Shame to waste a good meal by not staying to enjoy it.”

Her gaze flicked to him, sharp and assessing. There was no mistaking the way her body tensed, a flash of something unreadable crossing her face before she settled into a polite, neutral expression.

“I’m on a schedule,” she replied evenly, her tone guarded but not unkind.

Beck raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Busy day hiking?”

“You could say that.”

Her short answer didn’t bother him. If anything, it intrigued him more. She was cautious—guarded in a way that spoke ofsomeone who had been through enough to know better than to let her guard down.

“Silver Falls has some of the best trails in the Rockies,” he said casually, standing and strolling toward her. He didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked between him and the exit as he approached, her stance shifting slightly, as if preparing for... what? Flight? Fight?

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard,” she said, brushing a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. She held her ground, her shoulders squared despite the undercurrent simmering between them.

He extended a hand, his wolf humming in the back of his mind, urging him closer. “Beckett Grey. Sheriff.”

“Irene,” she replied, shaking his hand briefly before releasing it. “Just passing through.”

“Passing through,” Beck repeated, his tone light but probing. “That’s a shame. You seem like someone who’d appreciate what this place has to offer.”

Her lips quirked in a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Do I? I guess I’m just one of those people who blend into a crowd and make myself at home.”

Before he could say more, the waitress returned with Irene’s coffee and sandwich. She handed over a few bills, her movements deliberate, as if calculating how to escape the conversation without drawing attention.

“Sure you won’t sit down?” Beck asked, tilting his head toward his booth. “I don’t bite.”

She laughed softly, a sound that sent a thrill down his spine. “Appreciate the offer, Sheriff, but I’ve got plans.”

She turned and headed for the door, her scent lingering in her wake—a maddening mix of something familiar and just out of reach. Beck watched her go, a slow growl rumbling low in his throat as he fought the urge to follow.

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