Page 1 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack (Return to Wolf Creek #4)

But, like everything in my life, every positive seems to be balanced with a sharp edge of pain.

My grandmother Elinor passes away when I need her wisdom the most.

The news hits me like a punch to the chest, leaving a hollow ache I can’t breathe around.

Grief tastes bitter on my tongue, and the tears that track down my cheeks are hot, leaving salt-dry trails on my skin.

When I learn the ways of my mates' people to honor an elder’s death, it’s an eye-opener.

The air hums with energy during the ceremonies.

Every voice lifted in harmony to honor her.

Drums beat slow and steady, their vibrations deep in my chest like the pulse of the earth itself.

The scent of burning sage and fresh pine fills the gathering space, sharp and clean, as though purging the air of sorrow.

The pack shows its power in moments like this—a force of nature, unstoppable when united.

People I’ve never even met come to pay respects to my grandmother, their presence like a sea of warmth pressing against me, even in my loneliness.

Amidst it all, my mates’ hands find mine, their touch grounding me.

Barrett, with his steady voice and unshakable calm, is the best at getting the alphas to talk, smoothing tensions before they boil over.

His low murmur during the ceremony helps me breathe through the grief.

The elders, however, concern me.

They’re immersed in things that make my skin prickle, like icy fingers tracing down my spine.

Whispers of secrets hang heavy in the air, and the weight of their hidden dealings presses against my chest like a too-tight corset.

Straightening out Wolverton is a tangled mess, the discovery of one elder as a hidden threat, the bitter cherry on top.

The tension is so thick in the room that I can taste it—metallic, like blood on my tongue.

Integrating a sixth mate into our already delicate balance proves harder than I imagined.

Lorcan may be a healer, but his arrival disrupts the careful harmony we’ve built.

Every touch, every glance, carries meaning in a dynamic like ours, and the change hums with unspoken challenges.

His blindness doesn’t hold him back, though.

I watch, mesmerized, as his fingers flutter over our space, mapping it with a kind of patience and focus that makes my heart swell.

But the tension in the house simmers beneath the surface, like coals glowing in the dark.

The threat of constant war makes everything harder.

It feels like the universe is stacking bricks on my shoulders, one after the other, until my knees buckle.

Every day brings an additional problem—more rogues at our borders, another attack that leaves the ground soaked with blood.

My nerves are frayed.

The air reeks of fear, sweat, and iron, the acrid tang burning in my throat.

We hatch a plan—hide our pack’s greatest threat in plain sight to lure out my ex.

It’s reckless, but desperation makes the choice for us.

When it works, I’m both relieved and terrified.

My heat comes in like a tidal wave, a cruel twist of fate that leaves me raw and vulnerable, but it helps bait him.

The final battle with my ex is chaos—shouts and snarls, the sickening thud of bodies colliding, and the sharp tang of blood filling the air.

I fight for my life, for my mates, for the future we’re trying so desperately to protect.

When he falls, the relief that crashes over me is almost dizzying.

It feels like stepping out of a dark cave into sunlight, the warmth on my face stinging after so long in the cold.

But the attacks only ramp up from there, leaving us no time to breathe.

We’re forced to make the hardest decision yet.

The thought of sending our children away for safety feels like ripping my heart from my chest.

I clutch them close before they leave, memorizing their scents—soft lavender and milk—and the way their tiny hands curl in mine.

It’s for their safety, I remind myself, but the ache of their absence gnaws at me like a phantom limb.

Half my mates go with them, and the silence in the house is deafening.

I just hope we made the right decision.

My nights are sleepless, haunted by shadows at the edge of my vision and the lingering chill of an empty bed.

The air feels colder now, sharp and unforgiving.

I steel myself for what comes next.

We’re not running anymore.

It’s time to strike back—to reclaim our lives, our safety, and our peace—before the rogues can take anything more from us.