Chapter 14

14

BECK

T he narrow, almost overgrown trail twisted through the dense forest, the faint outline of what had once been a well-worn path now barely visible beneath layers of fallen leaves and tangled underbrush. Beck crouched down, brushing his fingers against the faint impressions in the dirt—a sign that this path had seen traffic recently, even if not by hikers.

“This is it,” Irene said quietly, her voice steady despite the rigidity in her shoulders. She glanced at Beck. “The journal mentioned a hidden trail leading to another set of markings. If we’re right, they should be just ahead.”

Beck nodded, his gaze sweeping the surrounding trees. “Let’s move, but carefully. If we found this, there’s a chance the hunters did too.”

Irene didn’t argue, her silence speaking volumes as she adjusted the strap of her pack and followed his lead. Her steps were light, deliberate, but Beck couldn’t miss that she was on edge, and he didn’t blame her. The deeper they went, the quieter the wilderness became, the usual chorus of birds and insects replaced by an eerie stillness. Beck’s wolf stirred restlessly in the back of his mind, its instincts prickling at the sense of being watched.

“I don’t like this,” Beck murmured, his voice low as he glanced back at Irene. “Stay close.”

“Wasn’t planning on wandering off,” she replied, sarcastically. But the way she moved a step closer to him told him she felt it, too—the unseen eyes, the creeping threat that seemed to follow them.

The trail led them to a small clearing, the sunlight that filtered through the canopy above casting dappled patterns on the ground. At the center of the clearing stood a jagged rock formation, its surface marked with faint carvings that were almost lost to time. Irene dropped to her knees beside the formation, her fingers tracing the faint symbols etched into the stone. She reached into her pack, pulling out the small, worn, leather journal. Opening it, her eyes scanned the pages as she skimmed through them. Finally, she looked from the page to the rock and back again. Her expression lit up with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

“This is it,” she said softly, her voice reverent. “The markings match the journal. This confirms it.”

Beck crouched beside her, his sharp gaze scanning the carvings. He couldn’t make sense of the symbols, but he watched as Irene’s expressions indicated the pieces of the puzzle were falling together.

“What does it say?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Irene frowned, her brow furrowing as she studied the markings. “It’s another clue. Directions, almost. It points to a ridge further north, near the falls. If the journal’s right, the next set of markings should be there.”

“Can’t they just mark your map and the spot with a big X and be done with it?”

“Where would the fun in that be?” she quipped.

“We need to have a long talk about what does and does not fall under the definition of the word fun,” Beck’s wolf growled softly, a low rumble that made her glance at him. “You think the hunters know about this?”

“I hope not,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

Before Beck could respond, the faint sound of rustling reached his ears. He stiffened, his body tensing as his sharp gaze darted toward the tree line.

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

Irene froze, her hand moving instinctively to the hilt of her knife. “How many?”

“Two, maybe three,” Beck replied, his tone grim. “Stay low.”

The rustling grew louder, the sound of footsteps and hushed voices drawing closer. Beck motioned for Irene to stay behind the rocks as he moved toward the edge of the clearing, his movements silent and deliberate.

He caught sight of them first—a smaller group of hunters, their rifles slung over their shoulders as they moved cautiously through the underbrush. They hadn’t seen him or Irene yet, but they were closing in fast. He fell back to Irene’s position, his protective instincts surging.

“We need to move,” he said quietly. “Now.”

Irene didn’t argue, quickly gathering her things as Beck pulled out his phone and dialed Knox.

“They’re closing in,” Beck said as soon as Knox answered. “Smaller group, heavily armed. GPS coordinates are coming your way.”

“Got it,” Knox replied. “We’re on our way. Sit tight, and keep her safe.”

Beck ended the call and turned to find Irene watching him, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief.

“You told Knox?” she hissed, her voice low but heated.

“Yeah, I did,” Beck said, his tone unapologetic. “Because we need someone to watch our backs. These hunters aren’t playing games, Irene. If we don’t have allies, we’re done for.”

“You had no right to share this with him,” she snarled. “This is my search, my treasure?—”

“And you’re not doing it alone,” Beck interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “I know this is important to you, but this isn’t just about you anymore. Those hunters will kill us if they have the chance. Knox and the others can make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He could see Irene’s anger warring with reluctant acceptance. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But next time, you tell me before you make a call like that.”

“Deal,” Beck said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Now let’s get moving.”

They slipped back onto the trail, moving swiftly but cautiously toward the ridge Irene had mentioned. The air between them was charged, heavy with knowledge of the danger they were in and the consequences their failure might bring.

As they climbed higher, the forest grew denser, the trees closing in around them like silent sentinels. Beck’s wolf remained on edge, every sound and shadow a potential threat. But even as his instincts screamed to protect her, he couldn’t ignore the quiet admiration he felt for Irene. Her fortitude, her courage—it was impossible not to respect her for it, even if it drove him crazy sometimes.

“We’re getting close,” Irene said, her voice breaking the tense silence.

Beck nodded, his sharp gaze scanning the trail ahead. “Then let’s make sure we get there first.”

The thought of what lay ahead—the treasure, the hunters, and the secrets Irene still carried—kept his mind racing as they continued on. He was mindful of the danger that loomed larger with each step, but he also knew he now shared her determination to find the treasure and get it to her pack. If anyone deserved it, it was Isaiah Blakiston’s descendant.

As the shadows deepened around them, the promise of what they might uncover—and what it might cost—set his pulse racing with equal parts anticipation and dread.

The hidden cavern revealed itself as they pushed through a dense thicket, the mouth of the opening almost completely concealed by thick vines and moss-covered rocks. Beck froze as he took in the sight, his wolf growling softly in the back of his mind. It looked untouched, the kind of place that had kept its secrets for centuries.

“I think this is it,” Irene said, her voice hushed with awe as she crouched near the opening. Her eyes sparkled with determination, and despite everything else going on, Beck couldn’t help but feel pride in her.

“Let’s see what’s inside,” Beck said, his tone low and steady. He motioned for her to stay close as they moved into the darkness.

The air inside the cavern was cool and damp, carrying the faint metallic tang of mineral deposits. Irene flicked on her flashlight—he had to give it to her, she’d come prepared—the beam cutting through the gloom to reveal the cavern walls adorned with faint traces of silver markings.

“This is incredible,” Irene murmured, stepping closer to one of the markings. She reached out, her fingers stopping just shy of the wall as she studied the intricate patterns. “These aren’t just markings—they’re symbols and they’re manmade. Look at the detail. This matches the descriptions in the journal exactly.”

Beck scanned the cavern, noting the way the symbols seemed to guide them deeper inside. “So, this is proof?” he asked, his voice echoing softly.

“More than proof,” Irene replied, her excitement evident. She squatted down near a cluster of artifacts partially buried in the dirt. She pulled a small, soft paintbrush out of her pack and began to remove the loose dirt covering them.

“These are tools—old ones. They could date back to the 1800s, maybe even earlier. If the journal’s right, Isaiah and his group might have left these behind.”

She worked quickly but methodically, brushing away dirt and debris with careful precision. Beck watched her, impressed by the way her hands moved with practiced ease, her focus unshakable.

“You’ve done this before,” he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.

“Plenty of times,” Irene said, glancing up at him with a faint smile. “Fieldwork was my favorite part of archaeology. Nothing beats the feeling of uncovering something no one’s touched in centuries.”

Beck crouched beside her, taking her flashlight and illuminating a faint etching on the ground. “You’re good at this,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Careful. Patient. Not many people would take the time.”

Irene’s smile widened slightly, but she didn’t look up from her work. “Thanks. It’s not just about finding the treasure. It’s about respecting the history that comes with it. People have died for this treasure. Respect needs to be paid.”

Beck watched her for a moment longer, a strange warmth settling in his chest. He’d known Irene was determined, resourceful—but seeing her like this, completely in her element, made him realize just how much he respected her.

And cared for her.

The realization hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t just a stubborn, enigmatic woman dragging him into a dangerous chase. She was brilliant, capable, and more than he’d ever expected.

And she was his.

“Beck,” Irene said, pulling him from his thoughts. She pointed to a series of faint carvings on the wall ahead of them. “These symbols—they’re pointing to something deeper in the cavern. We need to follow them.”

He nodded, rising to his full height and shining his flashlight toward the markings. “Lead the way.”

Together, they moved deeper into the cavern, their steps careful and deliberate. The air grew colder, the walls narrowing as the symbols became more intricate, more deliberate.

“We’re close,” Irene whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps.

But just as they rounded a corner, a faint noise reached Beck’s ears—a muffled scuffle, the unmistakable sound of boots moving over the cave floor.

He froze, his body tense as his wolf’s growl reverberated in the air between them. “We’ve got company,” he said, his voice a barely restrained whisper.

Irene’s eyes widened, her hand tightening around the flashlight. “Hunters?”

Beck nodded, his sharp gaze sweeping the shadows. “Stay here,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t make a sound.”

Irene opened her mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it, her mouth closing as she pressed herself against the cavern wall.

The scuffling grew louder, the sound echoing through the narrow space. Beck strained to pick out details—the number of footsteps, the direction they were coming from.

“They’re close,” Irene whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

“Too close,” Beck muttered, his hand moving to the knife at his belt.

The danger in the air was suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity as they waited. Beck’s wolf snarled within, a fierce need to protect her surging through him.

But as the footsteps stopped just around the bend in the cavern, Beck’s heart hammered in his chest.

They’d been found.

And now, there was no way out.