Chapter 8

8

BECK

T he end of a long day was approaching. Beck snorted—long day. Breaking up an argument between two of the older alphas in the village, catching a couple of kids skipping school, writing a speeding ticket to Knox—well, that was actually kind of fun. Not much of real significance or crime happened in Silver Falls, and Beck often wondered if the salary he was paid was justified.

Beck leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the radio filling the silence as he scanned through reports from the past few days. Minor infractions, the occasional dispute—nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to write it off as same ole, same ole, but the nagging feeling in his gut told him something was coming.

The sharp trill of his desk phone broke the quiet, and he grabbed it on the second ring. “Grey,” he said, his voice clipped.

“It’s Ruby,” came the familiar voice from the other end, tinged with unease.

Beck sat up straighter. Ruby Wilder didn’t rattle easily, but there was an edge to her tone that set him on alert. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Irene,” Ruby said, her words rushed. “She went out hiking this morning, and said she’d be back by noon at the latest. We were going to have lunch. It’s past two now, and there’s no sign of her.”

Beck’s growled low in his throat. Irene. The woman had been a thorn in his side—and a constant distraction—since the first time their paths had crossed. He’d observed some of her ‘hiking,’ which appeared far more like a search. She was looking for something. A lot of hikers came looking for the lost treasure, but Irene had seemed to have information the others hadn’t. And now, she was late coming back from a hike. Ruby’s worry wasn’t something he could easily brush off.

“Ruby, you know we can’t consider someone officially missing until they’ve been gone at least forty-eight hours. It’s only been a couple of hours. I’m not sure it’s time to call in the cavalry,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was measured, friendly, professional, but even as he said the words, the unease in his gut twisted tighter.

“I know, I know,” Ruby said, frustration lacing her words. “But she’s not from around here. These woods?—”

“Are dangerous,” Beck finished for her.

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “Please, Beck. Can you just... check? Make sure she’s okay?”

He didn’t need convincing. The thought of Irene lost—or worse—in his wilderness sent a surge of protective anger through him, sharp and hot. But he kept his tone calm. “I’ll go look for her. Do you have any idea where she was heading?”

“She mentioned a ridge near the south trailhead,” Ruby said. “But she didn’t say much else. She’s pretty secretive. I don’t think she’s just here to hike.”

Beck exhaled sharply through his nose. “Neither do I.” He paused, the wheels in his mind turning. “Do you have something of hers? An article of clothing, maybe? Something she’s worn recently.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then Ruby said, “I can get something from her room. Give me a few minutes.”

“Bring it to the office,” Beck said, already standing and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll head out as soon as I have it.”

“Thank you, Beck,” Ruby said, the relief in her voice palpable.

He hung up and shrugged into his jacket, the familiar weight settling over his shoulders. His wolf stirred restlessly in the back of his mind, eager and impatient. This wasn’t just another search-and-rescue mission. This was Irene.

He didn’t bother to examine why that mattered so much.

Fifteen minutes later, Ruby arrived, her face pale but determined as she handed over a scarf. “She wore this yesterday,” she said. “It should help.”

Beck nodded, taking the scarf and catching the faintest trace of Irene’s scent—wild and sweet, with that maddeningly elusive undercurrent he couldn’t quite place. It sent a jolt through him, his wolf growling softly in approval and concern.

“I’ll find her,” he said, meeting Ruby’s worried gaze.

Ruby hesitated, then nodded. “Be careful out there, Beck. If the hunters are still around...”

“I’ll handle them,” he said firmly.

With that, he stepped outside, the cool mountain air biting against his skin as he headed toward his SUV. His wolf stirred again, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he raised the scarf to his nose. Irene’s scent was strong enough to guide him, and he set off toward the south trailhead with a single-minded focus.

The drive was short, but the tension in his chest only grew. By the time he reached the trailhead, the sun was beginning to dip, the shadows beginning to stretch along the ground. He parked and stepped out, the forest alive with life and something else, something more sinister.

Beck took the garment, his fingers brushing the fabric as he raised it to his nose. The scent hit him like a bolt of lightning—wildflowers, earth after rain, and something deeper, richer, that spoke to the most primal part of him. It was uniquely Irene, and his wolf stirred immediately, growling low in his chest.

The recognition slammed into him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His fated mate. There was no mistaking it now. The undeniable pull, the way her scent seemed to weave itself into his very being. The protective instincts of his wolf surged, a sharp, possessive growl rumbling deep within him.

Fated mate. No doubt about it.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

With sure steps, he followed her trail, his senses on high alert. The deeper he went, the more the forest seemed to shift around him, the air growing heavier, the shadows more pronounced. He picked up his pace, the primal pull of his wolf urging him forward.

Irene was out here. And no matter what—or who—was standing in his way, he was going to bring her back.

He picked up his pace, the scent of Irene clinging to him like a beacon. His wolf paced restlessly in his mind, eager and impatient. She was out there—his mate—and she was in trouble. He could feel it. Beck wasted no time, his powerful strides taking him up the trail where he paused, inhaling deeply. Her scent lingered faintly on the breeze, leading him on.

Deciding he could make better time as his wolf, Beck removed his clothes, bundled them up with his sidearm and called forth his more primal self. The familiar mist swirled up around him and he shifted effortlessly into his wolf form, the transformation quick and seamless. His powerful black coat gleamed in the dappled sunlight as he sniffed the air again, his eyes scanning the dense trees ahead. The scent was stronger now, guiding him like a thread through the wilderness.

Lifting his head, Beck let out a powerful howl, the sound reverberating through the trees. It was a call, a summons for her to come to him, to let him know where she was. The howl carried his urgency, his need, his promise to protect her.

The forest fell silent in its wake, the air thick with anticipation. He strained to hear a response, but none came.

Beck’s growl rumbled low and dangerous in his throat, his wolf bristling with frustration. She wasn’t answering, but he could feel her presence like a faint hum in his chest, a connection that told him she was still out there—and in trouble.

His wolf instincts sharpened, directing him toward the ridge Ruby had mentioned. Her scent grew fainter as he moved, interspersed with other, sharper smells—gun oil, sweat, the sweet pungent smell of fear. His hackles rose. Hunters.

Beck’s protective instincts surged, and picking up his bundle, his powerful legs propelled him forward as he followed the faint trail. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready for action. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last.

When he reached the base of the ridge, he paused, his ears swiveling as he scanned the area. The faint crack of a branch to his left had him spinning, his nose lifting to catch the scent. It wasn’t Irene, but it wasn’t far from her trail, either.

Beck let out another howl, this time raw and urgent, pouring every ounce of his determination into the sound. It echoed through the wilderness, a promise and a warning to anyone who dared to stand in his way.

He shifted back into his human form, his breath coming fast as he stood at the edge of the ridge. His eyes swept the dense trees. Somewhere out there, Irene was fighting for her life—or running for it.

Again, silence followed, but Beck’s connection to her pulsed faintly in his chest, pulling him toward her like a magnet. She was out there, and she needed him. With a snarl, Beck started up the ridge, his steps purposeful and his senses on high alert. The hunters might have found her first, but if they had, they’d made the biggest mistake of their lives.

No one touched his mate and lived to tell the tale.

The ridge loomed before him, its rocky terrain bathed in the fading light of the evening. Beck moved with purpose, every sense tuned to the forest around him. Irene’s scent was stronger here, tangled with the bitter scent of gun oil and human sweat. His wolf growled, the sound vibrating low in his chest as he quickened his pace.

Then he heard it—a sharp voice, edged with malice. He moved toward the sound and saw her facing them—afraid perhaps, but refusing to give into it.

“Why don’t you make this easy on yourself? Come with us, and no one has to get hurt.”

Her lips curled into a defiant snarl. “Not a chance.”

The man’s smile faded, his expression hardening. “Suit yourself.”

Beck didn’t wait for the situation to escalate further. In a blur of motion, he shifted, his powerful black wolf form emerging with a rush of energy. The hunters barely had time to react before both he and Irene launched themselves at the men, a deep, guttural snarl tearing from his throat.

The nearest man turned, his eyes wide with shock as Beck barreled into him. His rifle clattered to the ground as a shot rang out, going wide. Beck’s claws raked across his chest, sending him sprawling. The other two shouted, scrambling to aim their weapons.

Irene didn’t hesitate. She lunged at the second man, her movements swift and precise, knocking the gun out of the way as he pulled the trigger. Beck caught a glimpse of the blade in her hand as she slashed at the attacker’s arm, forcing him to drop his gun.

The third hunter raised his rifle, his hands shaking as he took aim at Beck. A single, lethal second stretched between them, but Beck was faster than the hunter’s ability to take aim and shoot. He darted forward, his powerful jaws snapping around the barrel of the weapon and wrenching it from the man’s grip.

The hunter stumbled back, his face pale as Beck’s snarl echoed through the clearing. He turned and ran, his retreating footsteps fading into the forest, as the other men clambered after him.

The clearing fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of Irene and Beck. Beck turned to Irene, his wolf’s keen eyes sweeping over her for any sign of injury. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a feral energy as she straightened, clutching her knife.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her fear.

She spoke to him not as one would a wild animal but as one shifter to another. Beck trotted back to where he’d dropped his bundle of clothes and shifted back into his human form, pulling on his clothes. He returned to the clearing, his tall, broad, muscular frame towering over her. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice rough.

Irene scowled, but there was no mistaking the relief in her eyes. “I had it handled.”

“You’re bleeding,” Beck said, his gaze dropping to the shallow cut on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’d call handled. And they had guns. What’s the line from the movies about bring a knife to a gunfight?”

She glanced at the wound, as if noticing it for the first time. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” he said, stepping closer. The magnetic pull between them crackled in the air, something neither of them could easily ignore. “Let me take you back to the B&B.”

“I’m fine,” Irene said, her voice tight.

Beck’s eyes darkened, his wolf growling softly in the back of his mind. “You’re not. And these woods aren’t safe,” he said nodding toward where the hunters had retreated. “Let me help you.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes searching his face. The defiance in her gaze wavered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders sagging with reluctant acceptance.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I don’t need an escort.”

“Too bad,” Beck said, his voice firm but with a humorous edge. “You’re getting one.”

The walk back was filled with a charged silence. Irene kept her distance, her steps quick and purposeful, but Beck stayed close, his protective instincts refusing to let her out of his sight.

The scent of her filled his senses, intoxicating and maddening. Every glance she shot his way, every subtle movement, sent a jolt of awareness through him. She was fire and steel, a force he couldn’t ignore.

When they reached the edge of the woods, Irene turned to him, her expression guarded. “You don’t need to follow me any further.”

Beck crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “You’re hurt. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned and headed toward the Bristlecone Bed & Breakfast, her fiery hair catching the soft glow of the setting sun.

When they arrived at the B&B, Ruby and Knox were standing on the porch waiting. Irene pushed past them and disappeared with Ruby close behind.

“She’s going to be trouble,” said Knox as he came to stand beside him.

“I can handle her.”

“I hope so.”

Beck chuckled. “I don’t have a choice. She’s my fated mate.”

“Ah,” replied Knox. “I completely understand. Ruby and I will stay here tonight.”

Beck nodded and then turned away, lingering in the shadows, his wolf pacing restlessly within. The danger wasn’t over—not for her, not for anyone in Silver Falls. Somewhere out there, the hunters were regrouping, and the battle was far from over.

The thought sent a surge of determination through him. Irene was his to protect—whether she liked it or not.

And he’d be damned if he let anyone take her from him.