Page 1 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

PROLOGUE

FLINT

W ildhaven Clan Compound

Silver Falls, Colorado

Three Years Ago

The moon cast a pale glow over Silver Falls as the Wildhaven Clan gathered in tense silence. Flint Mercer stood tall, his golden eyes scanning the shifters, some defiant, others hopeful. He turned his glare on Silas, the clan’s failing alpha, his voice a growl of accusation. “You’ve exiled our young, treated our females like currency. It ends now.”

Silas sneered, but Flint could see the flicker of unease in his eyes. “You’ve been gone too long, Mercer. The clan isn’t yours.”

Flint’s voice was steady. “Step down, or I’ll take you down.”

Silas lunged first, shifting mid-strike, but Flint was faster. Their mountain lion forms clashed in a blur of muscle and claws, snarls echoing through the clearing. Silas fought with desperation, but Flint had the advantage—training, strength, and purpose. Blood darkened the ground as Flint’s claws raked across Silas’ throat. A final, gurgling growl, and the older lion collapsed, shifting back into his lifeless human form. Flint stood, bloodied and heaving, as the clan watched in stunned silence.

“Those loyal to Silas have a choice,” Flint declared. “Accept me as your alpha, or leave Wildhaven. There is no middle ground.” The gathered shifters hesitated. Then, one by one, they bowed their heads in submission. A long breath left Flint’s chest, but he knew this was only the beginning.

His younger brother, Wes, stepped forward, his grin sharp. “We’ll rebuild. The ones Silas exiled—they’re waiting for you.”

Flint’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but pride warmed his chest. Wes had been preparing for this moment all along. Laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Flint said, “Tomorrow, we go to the mountains. It’s time they came home.”

Wes nodded but glanced toward the trees, his expression darkening. “Something’s been watching since the fight started.”

The air was thick with menace. Flint looked to the edge of the trees. A hooded figure stepped closer. Everything about the person’s identity was obscured. Whoever it was didn’t flee, didn’t challenge, just nodded and disappeared.

Cold Creek Orchards

Present Day

The night Maribel Walker died, the storm rolled in with the fury of an omen.

Flint Mercer pushed his truck harder than he should have down the winding road that led to Cold Creek Orchards. Sheets of rain lashed the windshield, his wipers barely keeping up. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the gnarled apple trees that lined the property like silent sentinels. Something felt wrong.

Maribel had called him minutes ago, her voice brittle with urgency. ‘ Flint, come quickly . The orchard …’

The call had ended in static before she could finish. He hadn't hesitated. Maribel Walker wasn’t one to panic. The old woman had been a part of Silver Falls longer than anyone could remember, stubborn as the roots of her apple trees. If she was afraid, it meant something was very, very wrong.

His tires skidded over the gravel as he pulled up in front of the house. The storm howled through the orchard, bending branches, shaking the old wooden fence that lined the property. The house was dark, but something drew his gaze past it—to the trees beyond.

A figure lay sprawled in the wet grass between the twisted trunks of the oldest apple trees.

“Maribel.”

Flint barely heard his own voice over the wind. He was out of the truck in an instant, his boots sinking into the mud as he sprinted toward her. The rain blurred his vision, but he knew before he reached her that something was terribly wrong.

Maribel Walker was dying.

He dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the cold seep of water through his jeans. Her silver hair clung to her face, her breath shallow, eyes barely open. He could see no visible wounds and there was no scent or sight of blood—only the sharp tang of over-ripened apples.

“Who did this?” Flint growled, his voice low and urgent.

Maribel’s fingers trembled as she reached for his hand. He took it, her grip weak but insistent. “It’s not...” She coughed, her body wracked with pain. “Not just me, Flint. The orchard... it’s in danger.”

His gut twisted. “Who did this to you?”

Her gaze flickered past him, toward the trees. Flint turned his head just in time to see a shadow moving between the trunks, a figure slipping away into the storm. He rose, his mountain lion instincts roaring to give chase, but Maribel’s fingers tightened around his hand with surprising strength.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Too late... for me.”

Flint swallowed hard, his jaw clenched against the helplessness curling in his chest. He had faced death before, had lost people in battle, had taken lives in fights he couldn’t walk away from. But this—this was different. This was Maribel. She had been family to his sister and brother when they’d had none. She had given him a place to belong. And now she was slipping away beneath his hands.

Her eyes were glassy now, her breaths uneven. “Jenna,” she whispered. “Tell her... don’t let them win.”

Flint’s throat tightened. Jenna Hartford. Maribel’s niece. The one she had spoken of so often, though they hadn’t seen each other in years. “I’ll tell her,” he promised. “But you’re gonna tell her yourself, Maribel. Hold on.”

She gave him a weary smile, one that spoke of knowing better. “Take care of her, Flint. The orchard belongs to her now.”

Lightning flashed overhead, and for a moment, he swore he saw something carved into the bark of the nearest tree—a warning, jagged and deep. The words blurred in the storm, but the feeling of them settled like lead in his gut. Something dark had taken root here.

Maribel let out a final, shuddering breath. Her grip on his hand slackened. The light in her eyes faded.

Flint bowed his head and then looked to the heavens and whispered, “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet lady, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

For a long moment, he let the rain soak through him, his hand still clasped around hers. The wind howled through the orchard, rattling the trees, carrying a whisper through the storm.

The orchard should have died with you.

Flint lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. He rose slowly, scanning the trees. The figure was gone, but the scent of something unnatural lingered in the air.

This wasn’t over.

He reached down, brushing wet strands of hair from Maribel’s face. “I’ll protect it,” he murmured. “I’ll protect her.”

The wind carried no answer, only the sound of the storm raging on.

JENNA

New York City, New York

Jenna sat at the long, polished conference table, her fingernails tapping restlessly against the cool surface. The Manhattan skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but she barely noticed. The quarterly strategy meeting was in full swing, with executives tossing around projections, market trends, and acquisition opportunities. It was everything she had spent years working toward, the culmination of long nights and sacrificed weekends. And yet, as the CEO droned on about expansion plans, she felt like she was suffocating.

Her phone buzzed against the tabletop. Jenna glanced down, expecting another work email, but the screen flashed a name that sent a chill through her. Unknown Caller—Silver Falls, Colorado . Her heart clenched. There was only one person she knew in Silver Falls. Aunt Maribel. Her mother’s sister. The aunt they had visited infrequently during her childhood. Jenna’s mother had joined her father’s mountain lion clan outside of New York City when they married.

Ignoring the disapproving glance from the senior partner across the table, she stepped out of the meeting and swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Miss Hartford?” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, cautious. “This is Sheriff Beckett Grey, from Silver Falls. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but—your aunt Maribel passed away last night.”

Jenna’s breath left her in a sharp exhale. The words made little sense, like hearing them through water. “No,” she murmured, gripping the edge of the table. “That… that can’t be.”

“I know this is a shock,” the sheriff continued gently. “We found her in the orchard. It looks like an accident, but… we’d appreciate it if you could come out and take care of some things.”

Jenna glanced towards the conference room. “Can’t we do it remotely? Things are kind of crazy in my job right now…”

“Some things, yes, but other things will need you to be here in Silver Falls. We’ll try to keep the disruption in your life to a minimum.”

Jenna could hear the disapproval in the sheriff’s voice. That wasn’t at all surprising, considering the close-knit community of Silver Falls.

A deep, aching guilt swelled in Jenna’s chest. She had promised herself, promised Maribel, that she would visit more often. Every year, every holiday, every missed call—she had always meant to make time. But there had always been another project, another deal, another excuse.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She ended the call with numb fingers and re-entered the boardroom.

All eyes turned towards her and the CEO, Daniel Laughton, peered down his nose at her. “Everything alright, Hartford?”

Jenna took a shaky breath. “Yes. No. That was the sheriff of Silver Falls…”

“Silver Falls?”

“Yes. It’s in Colorado. My aunt had an apple orchard there. The sheriff was calling to let me know my aunt had just passed away last night. They need me to come to Colorado to settle her estate.”

Laughton frowned, his gaze cool and assessing. “For how long?”

“I don’t know yet.”

A beat of silence. Then, “You understand, of course, that we’re in the middle of a major acquisition. Your presence here is crucial.”

Jenna’s blood ran hot. Of course. Her boss, ever practical, didn’t even pretend to offer condolences. She had given this company everything—her time, her energy, her sanity—and now, when she needed a moment to grieve, she was nothing more than a resource to be managed.

“I understand,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But my aunt was family. I need to go.”

Laughton leaned back in his chair, regarding her like a chess piece he was about to lose. “This is a defining moment in your career, Jenna. You’ve worked too hard to throw it away now. Are you really willing to risk everything over this?”

Jenna’s jaw tightened. She had risked everything for this job for years. And for what? A life where she measured success in billable hours and sleepless nights? A life where she kept putting off the people who mattered most?

She exhaled slowly. “You’re right. My commitment isn’t where it should be.” Laughton’s expression flickered with satisfaction—until she added, “That’s why you can consider this my resignation, effective immediately. I’ll send you a formal email within the next twenty-four hours.”

A stunned silence fell over the room. Laughton’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be hasty, Hartford. You’re one of our best.”

“I know,” she said simply, gathering her things. “But this isn’t the life I want anymore.”

With one last glance at the gleaming conference room—the power, the prestige, the relentless grind—Jenna turned on her heel and walked out. The weight of years spent chasing someone else’s version of success lifted with every step. She wasn’t sure what waited for her in Silver Falls, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.