Page 13 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack (Return to Wolf Creek #4)

Chapter 13

Ethan

I finish tightening the bolts on the double seat, making sure it’s secure for the ride. The anticipation is buzzing under my skin, like the engine just waiting to roar to life. The new leathers draped over the handlebars are for Gracie, along with a box at my feet containing her new boots. Hidden just behind the rear tire, a sleek helmet with full-face protection and gloves wait. I want everything to be perfect.

“Ooh, looks like we’re going on an adventure, huh, Wolfie?” Gracie’s voice cuts through the air as she walks up, wearing those tight jeans and a tee shirt like I asked. The way the fabric clings to her curves makes my chest tighten, but my eyes drop to her feet. Sandals. Not ideal. I arch a brow at her, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, we are. Did you bring socks?” I ask, watching her with a knowing look.

Gracie grins and pulls a pair out of her back pocket like she expected this. “Of course. You think I’d forget?”

“Good girl.” I motion her toward the shaded patio set under the tree, the leaves rustling slightly in the breeze. The air smells of fall and motor oil, my favorite mix. “Let’s get you into your leathers, and we can head out.”

I hand her the chaps first, followed by the box with her new boots. I watch as she pulls the gear on, my eyes lingering just a second too long as the leather molds to her legs. Once the boots and chaps are secured, I step in, adjusting the straps so they’re tight but comfortable. Next is the jacket. My crew’s howling wolf emblem stretches proudly across the back, “Feral’s ole lady,” emblazoned above the tail.

Her fingers trace the patch, and she laughs softly. “Your road name is Feral?” Her laugh is light, and she twirls a little to show off the patch that reads, Feral’s ole lady . “Aww, I love it,” she says, bouncing on her toes before throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her lips to mine. Her excitement is contagious.

I chuckle, pulling back to help her with the gloves. “Glad you do. Wait till you see this,” I say, grabbing the helmet. I saved the best for last. She’d been dying for the one with the ears, for whatever reason. Slowly, I pull it from the box, revealing the ridiculous, yet somehow perfect, design.

Her eyes light up, and she practically snatches it out of my hands. “It’s perfect!” She’s bouncing again, her excitement like a live wire. She plops the helmet on her head, fiddling with the chin straps.

I can’t help but smile as I flip up the visor. “You look perfect. Tilt your head up. I’ll adjust the straps for you.”

She does as I ask, her hair brushing against my hands as I secure the helmet snugly. There’s a quiet satisfaction in making sure she’s safe. Once I’m done, I slip on my cut and grab my helmet. I straddle the bike, feeling the familiar weight of it beneath me. My fingers reach back to lower the new foot pegs I installed just for her, offering my hand. “Time to go.”

Gracie takes my hand, swinging her leg over the bike like she’s done this a thousand times, settling into the seat behind me. I feel her arms slide around my waist, and there’s something solid about her touch. Grounding.

“Hold on tight,” I murmur over my shoulder.

The engine roars to life, vibrating under us, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. This—this is freedom. The world stretching out before us; the wind whipping past as we ride. And today, I get to share it with her. The bike rumbles as it warms, and I feel her arms tighten around me, her excitement matching mine.

But this isn’t just a leisurely ride. I’ve got a hidden agenda. There are a few spots I want to check out—places rumored to be tied to the missing elder. Gracie’s along for the ride, but I’m keeping my eyes peeled. If all goes to plan, I’ll be ticking two boxes today—time with my girl and a lead on the elder.

As soon as my bike roars to life, I feel the familiar hum beneath me. Once she’s warmed up, I drop her into first gear and take off, the tires spitting gravel as we leave the driveway. Grace giggles, her arms wrapping tighter around my waist, her chest pressed firmly against my back. I grin under my helmet. She loves this—being free, feeling the rush.

The dirt road that leads away from our new place isn’t exactly the best for a ride, but it’s what we’ve got for now. I steer carefully; the bike bumping over loose stones and ruts, but I know Grace trusts me. A few moments later, the rough gravel gives way to smooth blacktop, and we glide onto the highway, the steady hum of the engine filling the space between us.

We fall into a peaceful rhythm; the wind whipping past as the road stretches out ahead. I can feel Grace settle into me, her breathing matching the steady purr of the bike. In the back of my mind, I’m already running through the routes, mapping out the quickest way to the elder’s usual haunts. There’s a tension coiling low in my gut. We need to spy on him—figure out if he’s alone or not.

The first problem: if we find him alone, it’s going to be damn hard to resist the urge to take him out right then and there, bond or not. The second problem: if he’s with his crew, we’ll have to get out without raising any red flags. But those are worries for later. Right now, it’s just me, Grace, and the open road, sharing the one thing that always clears my head—riding.

Halfway to our destination, I spot them—my road brothers. They recognize me instantly, their engines growling as they fall in line behind us. Good . If this goes sideways, at least we’ve got backup. I glance in the side mirror and catch a glimpse of Grace’s eyes darting toward the new arrivals. Her curiosity is palpable. She’s never ridden with the MC before, and I can tell she’s sizing them up already.

When we finally pull off at a dive bar, just a few miles shy of where the elder supposedly hangs out, I notice Grace’s head swiveling, taking in the sight of the bikes and the brothers pulling in around us. Her grip on me loosens, but she’s not anxious—just alert. Always watching.

“These guys,” I murmur low, only loud enough for her to hear, “they’re part of the MC. I trust them with my life.”

Grace’s lips curl into that deceptively sweet smile, the one that promises chaos if anyone steps out of line. “Oh, so don’t rip their throats out, then?” she teases, her voice laced with dark amusement.

I chuckle, shaking my head as I kill the engine. “I’d prefer if you left them intact, yeah. They’re good guys.” Still grinning, I lift her off the back of the bike, my hands steadying her as she pulls off her helmet. But even as I help her, my mind’s already slipping back to the mission. The elder’s close, and I can feel the tension in the air thickening. This might be the last calm moment we get tonight.

A few hours later…

We knock back a few dozen wings, talking shit and laughing with the boys. The bar’s loud with chatter and clinking glasses, but the real action starts when Diggs, the VP, can’t resist running his mouth. He’s always had a big one, but tonight? He picked the wrong time to open it. Grace is right there, and before I can even blink, she’s already morphing into demon mode.

One second she’s sitting beside me, all calm, and the next she’s launching herself across the table, fists flying. Her hand grips the bandana Diggs has around his neck, and her knuckles smash into his face— three solid hits.

The room goes quiet, like everyone’s holding their breath, watching Grace rain down punches on the VP. I get to her just in time, wrapping my arm around her waist and hauling her back. She’s a growling, snarling mess, still reaching for Diggs like she’s ready to tear him apart. My only option? I bite the back of her neck. That always works. Her body goes limp, melting into mine, and the fire in her eyes simmers down.

Gage raises his drink, a smug grin on his face. “Damn, bro. Your ole lady’s just as volatile as you.”

I chuckle, pressing a kiss to Grace’s cheek as I sit her on my lap, keeping her close. “I warned you not to talk shit about me in front of her. Her temper makes mine look tame sometimes.” I run my hand through her hair, feeling her settle against me.

Across the table, Diggs is trying to straighten his nose, the sound of cartilage snapping back into place making a few of the guys wince. He glares at Grace, but he’s smart enough to keep his voice steady when he speaks. “Didn’t sense an ounce of dominance from you, Mrs. Feral.” He bows his head, but Grace isn’t having any of it.

She lifts her chin, eyes locking on his. “No one fucks with my mate.” Her voice is a low, dangerous growl, and she presses her nose under my jaw, showing submission to me in front of the crew.

The tension fades as the boys return to their drinks, but the mood is still thick. “We should get rollin’,” I say, patting Grace’s thigh. “We’ve got a few more spots to hit before heading home.”

Prez and VP both nod, already clued in to my plans. They’re always ready to back me up. Prez finishes his drink, standing. “If you don’t mind, Feral, we’re headin’ the same way. We’ll tag along.”

I nod, appreciating the extra security. “Sounds good. Twelve bikes are safer than one, especially with all those cages on the road right now.”

I kiss Grace’s cheek again, feeling the last bit of tension leave her as she stands up. She pulls on her jacket, grabs her helmet and gloves, waiting for me like she’s been doing this for years. I can’t help but feel a bit of pride. She’s adapting to this life easier than I ever thought she would.

As we step outside, the rumble of engines fills the air. The sun’s setting, casting long shadows over the parking lot, and I can feel the adrenaline kick in. It’s time to ride.

I gun the throttle, feeling the engine roar beneath me as Grace settles behind me. Her arms wrap tight around my waist, a familiar comfort, but there’s a tension in the air that sends a shiver down my spine. We take off; the wind whipping around us, but the most disturbing part is how close to my MC’s territory the elder lurks.

In the back of my mind, a dark thought forms. Could any of my crew be allied with him? The possibility gnaws at me, unsettling. If they are... they’ll meet the same fate as him. Buried in an unmarked grave, no mercy, no hesitation.

Grace’s fingers drum lightly against my leathers, breaking my grim thoughts for a second. I laugh under my breath. Pairing her helmet with her phone, genius on my part. But then I feel it—a shift in the air, the silent warning. I place my hand over hers, stilling her. She stiffens, understanding immediately. We’re close now. Her bond thread, usually a soft hum in the back of my mind, goes dead silent. She’s focused, every sense sharp as we close in.

‘He’s here,’ she whispers through the bond, her voice almost a growl.

I nod, giving the hand signal. We pass the shack as if it’s just another ride. But my pulse quickens, the weight of the moment pressing in. About a quarter mile down the road, I pull over, parking the bike out of sight. No sooner do I dismount than Grace is already stripping out of her leathers. She’s moving fast—too fast for me to even offer help. She’s a blur of motion, shifting before I can get my clothes off. Her white wolf is already stalking toward the woods, and there’s no stopping her now.

I strip quickly, feeling the familiar burn of the shift tearing through me, my bones reshaping until my paws hit the ground. But she’s already gone. Her fury is palpable, a living, breathing thing. If she gets her teeth into him, it’s over.

Without hesitation, I race after her, plunging into the darkness of the woods. The scent of the elder is thick in the air, like rot and decay. Come hell or high water, that bastard’s time is up. He’s going to get exactly what’s coming to him.