Page 8 of Beckett's Fate

The bell above the door jingled again as she left, and the chatter of the diner returned. Beck watched her with narrowed eyes, his wolf pacing restlessly in his mind.

Knox sidled up to him, his sharp eyes following Irene’s retreating figure. “That’s her. Irene Blakiston. Ruby said she was a mystery. I think she might be right.”

Beck didn’t answer, his mind replaying every detail of their brief interaction. The way she moved, the way she deflected questions without giving too much away. And the way his instincts—both as a wolf and a man—refused to let him dismiss her as just another passerby.

He nodded to Knox, tossing a few bills on the counter. “Let me know if she comes back to the B&B.”

“Planning to scare her off or keep her close, Sheriff?” Knox asked with a knowing grin.

Beck’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Knock it off. I just want to make sure she’s not here to cause trouble. That is, after all, part of my job.”

Trouble. That’s exactly what Irene Blakiston felt like. Beautiful, intriguing trouble.

As he stepped outside into the crisp mountain air, Beck scanned the street, but Irene was already gone. The wolf inside him growled in frustration. She was hiding something—he could feel it—and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.

This wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths. He’d make certain of that.

The wolf in him snarled, his suspicions solidifying into certainty. Whatever Irene was hiding, Beck was willing to bet it wasn’t just innocent secrets. It was something far more dangerous.

4

IRENE

Irene stepped out of the diner, the bell above the door chiming softly behind her. The cold mountain air hit her like a slap, doing little to quell the nausea churning in her stomach. It might not feel cold to the locals, but to someone who’d lived her life in Arizona, it was frigid. She paused on the sidewalk, gripping the paper bag containing her sandwich, and closed her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way since arriving in Silver Falls. The disoriented, queasy sensation had started near the boulders with the carvings, a dull thrum of unease that had only worsened when she walked into the diner. And running into Sheriff Beckett Grey had only amplified it.

His presence had been overwhelming in every sense of the word. The way his piercing blue eyes had pinned her in place, the way his deep voice had wrapped around her like a velvet snare... It was as if the man carried the responsibility for everyone in Silver Falls on his very broad, very muscular shoulders—not that she’d noticed and had wondered what it might be like to run her fingers over said shoulders. He wasn’t shy about letting everyone know about that sense of responsibility, either. He was the manin charge. The man everyone turned to. He was, in her mind, everything a good alpha or good sheriff would be.

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself, taking a deep, steadying breath.

She hadn’t wanted to spend any more time than necessary with him. Every second in his presence had been like standing too close to a flame—intense, consuming, and impossible to ignore. That was why she’d made her excuse, grabbing her lunch to go instead of sitting down like she’d planned.

Now, the sandwich in her hand felt more like a taunt than a reprieve. Eating on the go wasn’t ideal, but the idea of returning to the Bristlecone Bed & Breakfast didn’t appeal, either. Ruby Wilder’s knowing eyes had a way of appearing to see through her defenses, and Irene wasn’t ready for another round of polite-but-pointed questions.

Her boots echoed softly on the sidewalk as she headed toward the trailhead on the outskirts of town. The wilderness had always been her sanctuary—a place where she could think, regroup, and plan her next steps. The wilds of Silver Falls didn’t feel nearly as benign as Arizona, but the wilderness was far less dangerous than lingering in the sheriff’s shadow.

As the forest closed in around her, she followed the winding trail deeper into the woods. The crisp air carried the scent of the outdoors with it, and the leaves beneath her boots weren’t the only sound breaking the stillness—the call of a bird, something moving in the underbrush. Irene let out a slow breath, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had been gripping her since she’d left the diner.

She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was alone. Not in this town. The sheriff had watched her like a hawk back at the diner—or perhaps more like a predator sizing up its prey—his interest far too sharp to dismiss as casual. And if he waswatching her, it was likely someone—or something—else might be, too.

The thought made her grip the sandwich bag tighter, her pace quickening. She told herself she was just being paranoid, but her instincts said otherwise. Maybe Sophie had been right. Maybe it would have been better to stay where she belonged.

Stopping at a fallen log near the edge of a small clearing, she perched on its mossy surface and unwrapped the sandwich. The rich scent of roast beef, cheddar, and horseradish filled the air, and her stomach growled in protest despite her lingering queasiness.

“Just eat,” she muttered to herself. “You’ll need the energy.”

As she bit into the sandwich, her thoughts drifted back to the sheriff. His presence in the diner had been almost magnetic, pulling her toward him even as her instincts screamed to keep her distance. The way he’d spoken to her—calm, probing, and laced with an authority that wasn’t just human—had rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

He knows. Or at least, he suspects something.

The thought made her heart race. She’d been careful, masking her scent, blending in as much as possible. But he wasn’t just anyone. He was a sheriff and an alpha, and his instincts were probably sharper than most. If she wasn’t careful, she’d draw more attention than she could handle.

The sound of a twig snapping pulled her from her thoughts. Irene froze, her senses sharpening as she scanned the clearing. The forest had gone silent—too silent.

“Not again,” she whispered, placing the sandwich into her pack and slipping her hand into her jacket. Her fingers closed around the hilt of her knife, the comfortable grip grounding her as she rose to her feet.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice steady despite the fear knotting her stomach.

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