Chapter 2

2

IRENE

T he jagged peaks of the Superstition Mountains loomed high above the small village Irene Blakiston called home. There were no permanent buildings per se, but the pack had set up semi-permanent yurts and had installed the infrastructure to give them running water and sanitation, as well as a meeting hall of sorts.

Beneath the fading light of the setting sun, she sat on a boulder at the edge of the clearing, a map spread across her lap. The tattered parchment was a mess of faded lines and cryptic notes—clues to the legendary Lost Dutchman’s mine. But her green eyes were fixed on a different piece of paper. A newer map, its edges crumpled from time and marked with carefully drawn notations and a single, tantalizing word: Silver Falls . It was the handwriting of her ancestor, Isaiah Blakiston.

“Irene!” A sharp voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Irene looked up as Sophie strode into the clearing, her blonde hair catching the last rays of sunlight. Sophie was the pack’s unofficial second-in-command, her sharp instincts and sharper tongue keeping everyone in line.

“What is it, Sophie?” Irene asked, folding the map before the other woman could get a good look.

Sophie crossed her arms, arching a brow. “The others are waiting. You said you had news.”

Irene stood, brushing dirt off her jeans. “I do.” Her tone carried enough of an edge to draw a flicker of curiosity from Sophie’s otherwise skeptical expression.

The two women made their way to the heart of the camp, where the rest of their pack had gathered around the fire. Five women, each with her own scars and stories, each bound by the unspoken bond of survival. The mingling scents of smoke, pine, and she-wolf filled the air.

Irene stepped into the circle, her heart pounding. She’d thought long and hard about this, but now that the moment had come, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making the right call.

“I’ve found something,” she began, holding up the map she’d folded moments before. “A new lead. A better one.”

The women exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from cautious curiosity to outright skepticism.

Sophie broke the silence first. “Better than the ones we’ve been following? That’s a bold claim.”

“It is,” Irene agreed, her eyes steady as she met Sophie’s gaze. “But the Dutchman’s mine has been a dead end for years. We, and thousands of others, have combed these mountains, followed every clue, and come up empty-handed every time.”

“That’s because we’re close,” Gwen interjected, her tone defensive. “You can’t just give up now.”

“I’m not giving up,” Irene said firmly. “But I’ve found something more promising. I was looking in some family mementos—things left to me by my ancestors. There are clues to a cache of silver hidden in Colorado, up near Silver Falls. The research is solid—better than anything we’ve ever had from the Dutchman. If we find it, it could be the answer we’ve been looking for. Enough to secure all of us, to give us real safety.”

“You’re really going to go through with this?” asked Gwen.

“I have to,” Irene replied firmly. “Don’t you see? If this silver is real, and I believe it is,” she said gently shaking the map, “it could change everything. We wouldn’t have to scrape by anymore. We’d have resources. Safety.”

Sophie snorted, shaking her head. “And you think it’s worth walking into a town full of shifters? A town where the sheriff is the alpha of the local wolf pack? If they figure out what you are, what you’re doing, they’ll never let you leave.”

“I know the risks,” Irene said, her voice calm but unyielding. “That’s why I’m going alone and taking precautions.” She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small vial filled with an amber-colored liquid. “This will mask my scent. As far as anyone in Silver Falls is concerned, I’m just a visiting human there to hike in the wilderness.”

The pack exchanged uneasy glances. Gwen, always the skeptic, scoffed. “You trust that stuff? What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Irene said, meeting her gaze with quiet confidence. “I’ve tested it. And I’ll be careful.”

“You better be,” Sophie interjected. “Because if you’re caught, it won’t just be you who pays the price. It’ll be all of us.”

“I would never betray you,” Irene said, her voice fierce. “You’re my family. But this is our best chance, and I’m not going to sit here and let fear hold us back.”

There was an undeniable disquiet among those in the circle, but no one spoke against her. Finally, Sophie sighed, stepping closer to place a hand on Irene’s shoulder.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Irene said with a small smile, though her heart was heavy with the weight of their trust. She pocketed the vial and turned toward the shadows of the forest contemplating her journey to Silver Falls.

Later that night, Irene sat alone by the fire, the camp quiet save for the occasional rustle of the wind. Her packmates had gone to their yurts, leaving her to her thoughts.

She unfolded the map again, tracing her fingers over the carefully marked routes and notes. Silver Falls. The name pulsed in her mind, a symbol of hope and danger in equal measure.

“You’re really going through with this?” Sophie’s voice startled her.

Irene looked up to see the black-haired wolf standing at the edge of the firelight, arms crossed. She hadn’t heard her approach—a testament to Sophie’s skill.

“I am,” Irene said simply.

Sophie sat down across from her, studying her with an intensity that made Irene shift under her gaze. “You’re braver than I’d be,” she admitted. “Or maybe just crazier.”

“Probably both,” Irene said with a small laugh. “But it’s not just about the silver. It’s about something more. A future. A real future.”

Sophie nodded slowly. “Then I hope you find it.”

The two women sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling between them. When Sophie finally stood, she placed a hand on Irene’s shoulder.

“Take care of yourself out there.”

“I will,” Irene promised.

As Sophie disappeared into the shadows, Irene stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in her eyes. Tomorrow, she would leave the only home she had known for years, stepping into the unknown with nothing but her wits and her will. Danger loomed ahead, but so did possibility.

She would find the silver. For her pack. For herself. And she wouldn’t look back.

The dawn broke over the jagged peaks of the Superstition Mountains, casting long shadows over the rocky terrain. Irene stretched, the desert air cool against her skin despite the sun’s early glow. The ground beneath her boots was dry and gritty, scattered with sharp stones and sparse patches of hardy vegetation.

Removing her clothes, she slipped them into her pack before shifting easily into her wolf form, her red coat catching the light as she shook out her fur. The arid scent of the desert filled her nose—dust, mesquite, and the faint, lingering traces of coyote from the night before. With a deep breath, she took off, her paws kicking up small clouds of dust as she ran. This might be the last time she could run in safety for quite a while.

The terrain was unforgiving, requiring careful steps over loose gravel and sharp rocks, but Irene relished the challenge. Her muscles flexed as she leapt over a cluster of prickly pear cacti, the rising sun warming her coat as she climbed a ridge. From the top, she paused, scanning the sprawling expanse of desert below, painted in streaks of gold. This land was harsh, raw, and relentless, but it was also home.

The thought gave her pause. Would Silver Falls feel the same? She’d seen photos and read descriptions in the journals—forests dense with towering evergreens, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp moss. The rocky terrain would be familiar, but the woods were a different world, a place where the ground would be soft and cool beneath her paws, the shadows deeper and the trails quieter.

Here, every step was exposed. Every movement visible against the open sky. In the forests of Silver Falls, she would be hidden, her scent concealed by the natural dampness of the land. Both places were wild in their own way, but she already knew the transition would feel like stepping into another life entirely.

Irene bounded down the ridge, the wind rushing past her ears as she let the terrain blur beneath her. This was her final run in the Superstitions before she left, and she intended to savor every moment. When she reached the bottom, she slowed, her paws leaving prints in the dust as she padded toward the edge of the pack’s territory.

She shifted back, brushing her fingers through her red hair as she gazed toward the horizon. Pulling her clothes from her pack, she redressed. The sun was higher now, casting the mountains in sharp relief. She was leaving this place, trading its arid openness for the shadowed woods of Silver Falls. It was a necessary step—a chance to secure her pack’s future—but she wasn’t about to let the uncertainty of the unknown stop her.

Adjusting her pack on her shoulders, she imagined she could feel the cool glass of the scent-masking vial pressing against her palm.

“Time to go,” she murmured to herself, turning away from the mountains she’d called home for so long.

The Bristlecone Bed & Breakfast was as quaint as Irene had expected—rustic and charming, with flower boxes beneath the windows and a warm glow spilling from the front porch light. The air smelled of fresh rain, the nearby woods humming with nocturnal life.

Irene adjusted her pack on her shoulders, allowing its familiar weight to ground her and remind her why she was here. She glanced around the quiet street before stepping inside.

“Evening!” the voice of the woman she suspected was Ruby Wilder greeted her as she entered. The woman’s sharp eyes took Irene in with a quick once-over. “You must be Irene.”

“That’s me,” Irene said with a practiced smile.

“I’m Ruby. Welcome to the Bristlecone.”

She shifted her weight just enough to appear relaxed, hiding the strain of the unknown coiled beneath her skin. “Thanks for having me.”

Ruby nodded, sliding a key across the counter. “Room three’s all set for you. Breakfast is at eight sharp, and there’s a map of hiking trails in your welcome packet. You’re here for the views, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Irene replied smoothly. “I’ve heard the trails here are incredible.”

Ruby beamed. “They are. Best in the Rockies. Just make sure you check in with me when you head out. I like to keep track of my guests—you wouldn’t believe how many people underestimate these woods.”

“I’m pretty experienced, but I’ll be sure to do that,” Irene promised, pocketing the key and turning toward the stairs. “Thanks again.”

She climbed to the second floor, the old wooden steps creaking beneath her boots. Once inside her room, she locked the door and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath. She’d detected that Ruby was a shifter and reminded herself that so was everyone else in Silver Falls. The vial of scent-masking solution was tucked safely in her pack, its effects already in place. To Ruby—or anyone else she encountered—she was just another human passing through.

But that didn’t make her completely safe.

Heading over to the bed, she removed her pack and pulled out a worn journal. Written in a barely legible scrawl was the legend of the lost silver. She reviewed the pages that led to the description of where the silver was. The diary was a mix of history and folklore, but Irene had sifted through the embellishments, focusing on the details that matched her research.

Her eyes traced the notes she’d scrawled in the margins, her heart racing with the thrill of the hunt. The trails surrounding Silver Falls aligned perfectly with the descriptions in the book. If the silver was here, she would find it.

But first, she needed to blend in, stay unnoticed. Silver Falls might seem like a sleepy mountain town, but she knew better. This was shifter territory, and the alphas of various packs and clans were not people to cross lightly.

She looked over to a chair by the window. Next to it was a small table with a tray. Irene walked over and looked at the note:

Thought you might like something to eat. Let me know if you need anything.

Ruby

Her hostess seemed to be kind and gracious. On the tray was a variety of protein bars and a sandwich on a plate with tomatoes, lettuce, and chips covered in cling wrap. Pulling it open, she inhaled what she thought was the scent of homemade bread with thick slabs of roast beef, cheddar cheese, mustard, and horseradish. Lifting half of it to her mouth, she took a bite and moaned— heaven . Pure heaven.

The next morning, Irene laced up her hiking boots, pocketed the protein bars and adjusted the straps of her pack. Ruby was bustling around the dining room, pouring coffee and chatting with other guests as Irene slipped out the door.

The air was crisp, the forest alive with the scent of dew and wildflowers. She unfolded the map from her pocket, tracing a route that would take her deep into the woods, where the trails intersected with the landmarks described in the journal. If her calculations were right, this was where she’d find her first clue.

Hours passed as she moved through the dense forest, her senses on high alert. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig set her nerves on edge. She wasn’t afraid of the wilderness. It was the other shifters she was worried about.

Finally, she reached a clearing. A cluster of boulders jutted out of the earth, their surfaces weathered and cracked. Irene knelt, brushing away dirt and debris to reveal faint markings etched into the stone. Her breath caught. This was it—just as the diary had described it.

But as she leaned closer to study the carvings, a faint sound reached her ears. A low growl, barely audible but unmistakable.

Her heart thundered. She straightened slowly, her eyes scanning the trees. She was alone—or so she’d thought.

The growl came again, closer this time. Irene’s pulse raced as she slipped her hand into her jacket, fingers closing around the small knife she always carried. Her scent might be masked, but that wouldn’t protect her if a wolf decided she was prey.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” she said aloud, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. “Just passing through.”

The forest remained silent, but Irene could feel eyes on her, watching, waiting.

Swallowing hard, she backed away from the boulders and returned to the trail, her every sense tuned to the possibility of pursuit. This was only the beginning, and already the danger felt all too real.