Chapter 13

13

BECK

S itting in his office, Beck watched the tiny dust particles illuminated by the sun as they danced in the light. The day had started as uneventfully as most mornings in Silver Falls did—quiet streets, the hum of life stirring in the small town, people going about their business. But Beck’s instincts were on edge, his wolf pacing restlessly within him.

It could be Irene, or it could be something more.

He was sorting through routine paperwork when his phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Knox’s name lit up on the screen. Beck picked up immediately, his tone clipped. “What’s up?”

Knox’s voice came through, low and tense. “We’ve got movement. My men spotted the hunters about thirty minutes ago. They’re grouped up—six of them—and they’re packing more than just rifles. Looks like they’ve got heavier firepower.”

Beck straightened in his chair, his grip tightening on the phone. “Location?”

“South ridge, near the old mine trails,” Knox said. “They’re moving deliberately, not like they’re hunting game. Looks more like a patrol.”

A low growl rumbled in Beck’s throat. “Anything else?”

Knox hesitated, then added, “They’re working as a unit. Coordinated. This isn’t some group of backwoods hicks on a hunting trip, Beck. They’re after something—or someone.”

Beck didn’t need to ask who. He already knew. “I’ll head out. Keep your men close but don’t engage unless necessary.”

“You got it,” Knox said, his tone grim. “Be careful out there.”

Beck hung up and immediately dialed the Bristlecone Bed I don’t believe them. What is important to you is important to me,” Beck said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “I’m not walking into this blind. If I thought I could make you tell me and then keep you safe somewhere else, I would, but in the long run that’s not the way to overcome your distrust of the pack structure. I will say the more you tell me, the better I’ll be able to help.”

“And if I refuse to tell you anything?”

“Then you’ll find yourself being held at the pack’s estate while we search for the treasure ourselves.”

“You do know you have to sleep with your eyes closed, right?”

“That’s good to hear,” Beck chuckled. “Sounds like you’re planning to sleep in my bed.”

“It’s the only bed I’ll be using at your estate. The question is whether or not you’ll be sharing it with me.”

Beck laughed out loud. “I think the pack is going to enjoy your spirit… and our arguments.”

“You think we will argue?”

“I know we will, and so do you. The difference is you think you’ll win all of them. Hot news flash, you won’t.”

Irene grinned and nodded. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They continued walking, their pace slower now as Irene began to speak. Her voice was quieter, more subdued, as though she were sharing a secret she’d carried for far too long.

“My connection to the treasure isn’t just about my pack,” she began. “It’s personal. One of my ancestors was Isaiah Blakiston, one of the first to search for it after Old Garvin told the tale. He and three others—what they called the ‘Iron Four’—set out to find the treasure.”

Beck’s brow furrowed as he listened, his wolf making sympathetic noises at the undercurrent of pain in her voice.

“They spent months in these mountains,” Irene continued, her gaze distant. “Hunting for clues, following leads that most people thought were just myths. And they found something. Something big. But whatever it was, it cost them everything. Only Isaiah made it back. The others—” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard. “They never returned.”

“What happened to Isaiah?” Beck asked, his voice gentler now.

Irene shook her head. “No one really knows. He came back to town, raving about what he’d found, but before anyone could get the full story, he disappeared too. Some people thought he went back for the treasure. Others said he was silenced—by someone who didn’t want the truth to come out.”

“You believe this treasure is real?” Beck asked, his sharp gaze studying her face.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Because I have his journal. It’s fragmented, damaged by time, but the entries I’ve been able to decipher point to something. And if there’s even a chance it’s still out there, I have to find it.”

Beck exhaled slowly, his mind racing. He’d heard plenty of stories about the treasure over the years, but this was the first time he’d encountered someone with a direct connection to its history.

“Let me see the journal,” he said.

Irene hesitated, her fingers brushing against the strap of her pack. “Not yet,” she said finally. “It’s... fragile. And honestly, I’m not sure it would make much sense to anyone but me.”

“Fair enough,” Beck said, though his curiosity burned brighter. “But if this journal is as important as you say, the hunters must know about it, too.”

“They do,” Irene admitted, her voice tight. “At least, I think they do. It’s why they’re after me. They think I have answers they don’t. And the truth is... I might.”

Beck’s protective instincts roared to the surface. “Then we need to move carefully. If they’re looking for you, they won’t stop until they’ve either caught you or gotten what they want.”

“Which is why we need to stay ahead of them,” Irene said. “I’m not going to let them take this from me, Beck. I can’t.”

Beck stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. “I’m not going to let them take anything from you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “Not while I’m here.”

Before he could say more, he heard a faint sound—a distant rustling, too deliberate to be the wind. His gaze snapped to the tree line, his body tensing.

“We’re not alone,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Irene stiffened, her hand moving to the hilt of her knife as she followed his gaze. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the stillness almost oppressive.

Beck motioned for her to stay close, his senses on high alert as he scanned the shadows. The hunters were near—he could feel it. And if they were smart, they were watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Stay with me,” Beck said, his voice a quiet command. “And don’t let your guard down.”

Irene nodded, her jaw set as she gripped her knife tightly. Together, they moved deeper into the forest, but even as they pressed on, Beck couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched—and that the danger was closer than either of them realized.