Chapter 1

1

BECK

S even Years Ago

Somewhere in the Middle East

The oppressive heat of the desert wrapped around Beckett Grey like a vice, the arid wind doing little to alleviate the relentless sun beating down on the parched earth. The mission had brought his Delta Force team deep into the Middle East—coordinates unmarked on any map, a land both desolate and deadly.

Beck crouched low behind a crumbling stone wall, his M4 carbine resting steady against his shoulder. His sharp gaze swept across the expanse of the village sprawled below, the jumble of sunbaked buildings casting long shadows in the fading twilight. His wolf senses—suppressed but never gone—itched beneath his skin, whispering warnings he didn’t need his training to interpret.

“Target confirmed,” whispered Sergeant Lopez over the comms, his voice crackling through Beck’s earpiece. “Second building on the right. Movement in the northeast corner. Looks like they’re arming up.”

Beck’s jaw tightened. They had intel that the high-value target—a terrorist leader known only as the Viper—was holed up here, surrounded by loyal fighters and a stockpile of weapons that could destabilize an entire region. They’d been tracking him for months, the trail always cold until now.

“Eyes on the prize,” Beck murmured, his voice calm but commanding. “Alpha team, hold position. Bravo, take the east flank. I’ll lead entry.”

A chorus of acknowledgments followed, his men trusting his word as absolute. Beck checked his watch. Twelve minutes until the village guard shift changed—just enough time to infiltrate, neutralize, and extract. Quick and clean.

Or as clean as things got out here.

He gave the signal, and the team moved like wraiths, shadows slipping between crumbling alleys and stacks of old crates. Beck’s wolf bristled, his senses hyperaware of the faint scent of sweat and gun oil on the wind, the distant shuffle of boots on stone. It was always like this before the action—a dance between his human precision and the primal instincts of his animal side.

“Clear,” came Lopez’s voice again, confirming the perimeter was secure.

Beck raised a fist, signaling his team to hold. He peered through his scope, catching sight of the target’s silhouette in a dimly lit room. The Viper paced with restless energy, gesturing sharply to a group of armed men. His voice carried faintly through the cracked window—foreign, furious, unmistakably dangerous.

“Bravo, set your charges,” Beck ordered. “Make it loud.”

A flash of white teeth split his face—a predator’s grin. The loud approach would rattle the guards, drive them straight into the kill zone. Chaos was a language Beck spoke fluently.

Seconds later, the sharp crack of an explosion split the desert air, a plume of dust and debris spiraling skyward. The Viper’s men scrambled, shouting as they ran to assess the breach.

Beck and his team surged forward.

The next moments were a blur of precision and violence. Beck breached the door with a single, powerful kick, his carbine barking as he dropped two guards before they could raise their weapons. His movements were fluid, each step calculated. A third man lunged at him, and Beck met him with a blow to the temple, sending the attacker crumpling to the floor.

“Commander, left flank!” Lopez called out.

Beck spun, raising his weapon just in time to fire a single, silencing shot into another combatant. His team poured into the room behind him, the sounds of controlled and suppressed gunfire blending with shouted commands. Dust and gunpowder choked the air, but Beck’s focus never wavered.

His eyes locked on the target—the Viper, frozen in place with a pistol half-drawn. For a split second, the room went still, the chaos receding into the background.

“End of the line,” Beck said coldly, his finger tightening on the trigger.

The Viper sneered, raising his weapon in defiance. Beck didn’t give him the chance to fire. A single shot rang out, and the Viper crumpled to the floor, the fight draining from his body in an instant as his blood stained the ground beneath him.

“Target neutralized,” Beck said into his comm, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “Alpha, Bravo—status report.”

“All clear, Commander,” Lopez confirmed.

The team regrouped outside the estate, their extraction vehicle rumbling up the dusty road under the cover of the encroaching night. Beck stood watch as his men loaded up, scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. His wolf stirred again beneath his skin, its restless energy not yet sated.

This was the life he’d chosen—danger, duty, and the constant pull of the hunt. But even as the desert stretched out before him, Beck couldn’t shake the faint, lingering sense that something else—something deeper—awaited him beyond the battlefield.

With a final glance at the horizon, Beck climbed into the vehicle, the shadows of the past already beginning to close in.

Two Years Ago

The steady hum of the transport plane filled Beck’s ears, blending with the rhythmic thrum of his pulse. The team was in transit, heading back to base after another mission in a string of brutal assignments. The kind that left you questioning the thin line between duty and survival.

Beck leaned against the cold metal wall of the plane, his sharp blue eyes scanning the faces of his teammates. They were relaxed, their banter easy as they swapped stories to kill the hours. He envied their ability to decompress. For him, there was no such thing.

He reached into the pocket of his tactical vest and pulled out the envelope that had been burning a hole there since it arrived. It had been handed to him back at the forward operating base, the familiar handwriting stopping him cold.

His cousin. Desmond.

Beck stared at the name on the front for a long moment before finally tearing it open. The faint scent of pine and pack hit him immediately, stirring the wolf that always lingered just beneath his human surface. He unfolded the letter, his black hair falling over his forehead as his eyes traced the hurried words.

Beck,

I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just get to the point. Dad’s dying. The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. It’s a matter of weeks now, maybe less.

The pack is in chaos. They’ve been barely holding together, but without a strong alpha, I don’t know how much longer that will last. You know what this means. You were always meant to take Dad’s place. Not me. You.

I’ve tried to step up, but I’m not you, Beck. The pack doesn’t follow me the way they followed Dad. He keeps asking for you, Beck. Whatever happened between you two, he wants to make it right. You need to come back. Silver Falls needs you.

I know you’re out there saving the world or whatever, but this is our family, our people. If there’s anything left of the wolf who used to care about that, come home.

Des

Beck closed his eyes, the words hitting harder than any enemy fire he’d faced in the field. His uncle—the alpha of the Silver Falls pack—was dying. The man who had raised him like a second father, and the one he’d walked away from when the burden of responsibility became too much.

A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. He’d thought leaving the pack, the expectations, the politics, would make his life simpler. But the wolf in him had never stopped feeling the pull of home. Of his pack.

“Bad news, Commander?” came a voice beside him. Lopez, his second-in-command, leaned over with a look of concern.

Beck folded the letter and shoved it back into his pocket, his jaw tightening. “Something like that.”

Lopez didn’t push, sensing the shift in Beck’s mood. He returned to his seat, but Beck could feel the letter burning him like a brand.

His thoughts churned. He couldn’t just walk away from his team, his mission. They were in the middle of operations that required precision, leadership, and focus. Yet the part of him that was more wolf than man growled in protest. Pack came first. Always.

The plane jolted as they hit turbulence, but Beck barely noticed. He was already thousands of miles away, picturing the sprawling forests of Silver Falls, the familiar howl of the pack carried on the wind. He thought of Desmond, struggling to hold everything together. And his uncle, the man who had shaped him into the wolf he was today, lying on his deathbed.

Beck clenched his fists, the decision weighing heavy. Duty had always defined him—whether it was to his team or his pack. But this? This was different. This was blood.

As the plane began its descent, Beck stared out the window at the endless desert below, knowing the call to return home wasn’t just a request. It was an order. One he couldn’t ignore.

“Lopez,” he said, his voice rough.

His second looked up from across the aisle. “What’s up?”

“My enlistment is up in a month. Once we’re back on base, I need to let them know I won’t be re-upping.”

Lopez’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re quitting? I never thought I’d live to see that day. Everything okay?”

Beck nodded tightly, though his gaze remained distant. “It’s family.”

Lopez didn’t ask more. Beck knew he wouldn’t. Trust was built into their bond, just like the bond of the pack he’d left behind.

The wolf inside him stirred again, restless and eager. Silver Falls was calling, and this time, there was no running from it.

Present Day

The morning air in Silver Falls was crisp and clean, carrying the faint tang of pine and damp earth. Beck stood at the edge of the forest, where the pack's land stretched endlessly before him—a sanctuary of untamed wilderness. He had already been up for hours, the duties of being sheriff stirring him awake before dawn. But now, with the first hints of sunlight piercing through the treetops, it was time to let go.

To run. To feel alive.

He shrugged off his shirt, the cool air teasing across his bare skin as he toed off his boots and shed the rest of his clothing. He folded them neatly and set them inside one of the containers strewn throughout their territory for just that purpose. The wolf inside him stirred, eager and impatient, clawing for release. A deep breath steadied him, and then, with practiced ease, he let the shift take over.

His body tensed, muscles rippling as the swirling mist encompassed him—lightning, thunder and shards of color all resulting in his wolf coming forward with a rush of primal energy. The familiar burn of transformation was fleeting, replaced by the exhilaration of the wolf’s power taking hold. When it was over, Beck stood on four legs, his sleek black fur blending into the shadows. His eyes caught the glimmer of sunlight filtering through the trees, his senses alive with the forest's symphony.

Without hesitation, he surged forward, paws digging into the soft earth as he raced into the woods. The freedom of the run was intoxicating, a rare escape from the weight of his responsibilities. The forest blurred around him, the wind rushing past his ears as his wolf reveled in the primal joy of movement.

Here, he wasn’t the sheriff of Silver Falls or the alpha of the pack. He wasn’t the man burdened with decisions, laws, and the delicate balance of peace in a town brimming with shifters and secrets. Here, he was simply a wolf—wild, unrestrained, and utterly free.

Beck’s run took him through familiar trails, his paws instinctively finding paths he had walked most of his life. The scents of the forest filled his nose—pine resin, damp moss, the faint trace of deer nearby. His ears twitched at the rustle of leaves, the flutter of wings overhead. Everything felt sharper, more alive in this form.

He slowed as he reached a ridge that overlooked the valley, the town of Silver Falls nestled below like a hidden gem among the trees. From here, he could see the sleepy streets, the rooftops of buildings just beginning to catch the light of the rising sun. His wolf huffed softly, the sound almost like a sigh.

This was his home now. For better or worse, he had returned.

As the sheriff, he had a duty to protect this place, to ensure its safety not just for the humans who might venture to visit here, but for the shifters who called it their home. It had been that way for more than a century. The balance was fragile, and the people of Silver Falls trusted Beck to maintain and protect it.

But for now, at least, the town was quiet. The wolf within him could sense it—the peace of the morning, the stillness before the day began. Beck let himself soak in the moment, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding him.

He turned and began the run back, his pace easy but deliberate, savoring the simple joy of running free. By the time he reached the clearing where his clothes waited, the sun had climbed higher, its warmth cutting through the lingering chill. Beck shifted back, the wolf retreating as the man resumed his form. The transformation left him breathless, his skin tingling as he stood under the open sky.

Dressing quickly, he let his senses linger on the forest for a moment longer before turning toward his SUV. Responsibility waited for him back in Silver Falls—laws to enforce, people to protect, and the ever-present undercurrent of pack and clan politics to navigate. But after the run, he felt ready. Grounded. Alive.

He strode toward his truck, the demands of the day ahead already settling on his shoulders. But deep down, the wolf inside him remained steady and strong, a reminder of the wild freedom that would always be waiting for him in the woods.