Page 7 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack (Return to Wolf Creek #4)

Chapter 7

Ethan

Getting to sit in and listen to Grace with Lorcan gave me a new perspective on their relationship. She is with him the same way I am with her—protective, attentive. But interestingly enough, she’s not as overprotective of Barrett. That thought lingers in my mind, circling, as I drive, eyes on the road but my mind elsewhere, trying to piece together the why of it all.

“Ethan?”

Grace’s voice pulls me out of my inner thoughts, snapping me back to the present. I glance over at her briefly; her face is soft, curious, before I shift my attention back to the road. We’re following the GPS to where Nic has all the excavators parked, the quiet tension of anticipation already creeping up my spine.

“Yeah?” I arch a brow at her, giving her a moment of my focus, before locking back onto the road. The dirt path is narrow, winding. Gotta stay sharp.

“Where did you go just now?” Grace’s arm slides around mine, her head finding its place on my shoulder. “The skin between your eyebrows pinched. I know that look—you were thinking hard about something.”

A small smile pulls at the corner of my lips. She’s always watching, always noticing the little things. “You’re just as protective over Lor as I am over you,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can really think them through. I feel her shift, her weight pulling back as she sits up suddenly, staring at me like I just told her something earth-shattering.

“I’ll be damned,” she mutters, eyes wide. “You’re right. Shit... Do you think that bothers him?” She’s turned fully now, sitting sideways to face me, her gaze heavy, expectant. I can feel it burning into the side of my face as I drive, the tension building between us like a taut string.

“I don’t think so. You’re the only one who gets away with it. When my brothers and I try, he gets pissed off. You? I think he feels safe,” I say, shrugging one shoulder as I steer us onto the dirt road. The rumble of the truck beneath us matches the steady hum of my thoughts. This road, this moment—it feels like we’re on the edge of something bigger.

She nods, though her expression shifts, thoughtful. “Ah. Well, that makes sense. When you guys do it, he feels weak, like he’s not enough. But when I do it … he knows I’ve got his back. He feels safe.” She shrugs again, but then freezes, her gaze locking onto something ahead.

The excavators.

Her heart pounds, the sound almost echoing in the quiet cab. I can feel the shift in her, that sudden spike of adrenaline. “Whoa … those are huge…” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

I follow her gaze. There they are—monolithic machines lining the horizon. This is either going to be one of the greatest days ever, or it’s going to be a complete disaster. There’s no middle ground. I can already spot Griffin’s car, and Ambrose’s too, parked near the site. Five mines, five operators. This will be an adventure to end all adventures.

Nic stands on the tracks of the lead excavator, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for our arrival. Even from here, I can see Griffin and Ambrose in their machines, already working the controls, digging and moving like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. Their movements are precise, fluid, as they get a feel for the hulking beasts of metal they’re piloting. The rumble of the machinery carries on the wind, a steady hum that vibrates through the ground. As soon as I park, Nic strides over, his presence commanding without even trying. He reaches for Grace, gently extracting her from the passenger seat, and wraps her in a hug.

“Are you ready to learn how to drive one of these?” he asks, his voice playful, but I catch the faintest flicker of anxiety in her expression as her eyes dart up to the massive machine towering over us. I feel it too, the way her pulse quickens, a whisper of tension through our bond.

“Yes?” Her voice wavers, head tilting up, eyes wide as she takes in the sheer size of the boom arm stretching high above, the length of it like some mechanical serpent coiled and ready to strike.

I step in closer, my protective instinct kicking in. “I’ve operated these before. Mind if I stay in the machine with Grace so she can get used to it?” My words come out steady, but there’s more behind them—concern, maybe. Nic runs the show here, but I’m her sire. I know the subtle shifts in her mood, the way her hands clench at her sides when she’s nervous. Keeping her calm could make all the difference between control and disaster.

Nic’s smile is easy, a nod of approval. “I was going to suggest it.” He hands me the keys, the cold metal pressing into my palm, and gestures toward the machine sitting slightly apart from the others. “For safety reasons, we’re spreading out. Don’t want any accidental collisions.”

The weight of the keys feels heavier than it should, a tangible reminder of the responsibility. I turn to Grace, giving her a reassuring nod as Nic walks off, leaving us alone with the hulking machine that’s about to test her limits. The air feels thicker now, the distant rumble of engines fading into the background as her unease thrums through our connection. I glance up at the machine. It looms over us, silent and imposing, and for a split second, I wonder if she’s truly ready for this. But we don’t have time for doubts. I slip the keys into the ignition. The machine roars to life, and I feel the weight of the moment settle in.

Grace slides into the driver’s seat, her hands trembling slightly as they hover over the controls. I reach over and fasten her seatbelt, the click of the buckle louder than usual in the quiet cab. “Okay, Grace,” I say, my voice steady but firm. “Remember, this isn’t a toy. It can hurt or kill someone, including you, if you don’t handle it right.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wide with a mix of excitement and nerves. She nods, her attention quickly darting back to the array of joysticks, pedals, and buttons in front of her. The overwhelming sight of all the controls must feel like stepping into the cockpit of a plane for her.

“Let’s start simple,” I say, gesturing to the arm in front of us. “The boom arm is in what’s called a neutral position. That means it’s raised with the bucket curled up.” She nods again, biting her lower lip in concentration.

I point to the two black-handled sticks. “These control the treads. They operate independently, so to move forward, you’ll push both sticks forward with steady pressure. Not too fast.”

Grace hesitates, then reaches forward, her small hands gripping the sticks. She pushes forward, but the machine leaps ahead, jerking us both in our seats. She gasps and rips her hands back, eyes wide with fear.

“Whoa,” she whispers, breathless.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, glancing at her pale face. I reach over and flip the speed control switch from the rabbit down to the turtle. “This will slow it down. Try again.”

Her hands hover for a moment, then she presses the sticks forward more gently this time. The excavator lurches to life, crawling forward at a much slower, manageable pace.

“Very good,” I say, relief threading through my voice. “Now, to turn left or right, you’ll push forward on the stick for the side you want to go. At the same time, you’ll pull back on the opposite stick, but with equal pressure. Got it?”

She nods, her brow furrowing as she processes the instructions. Slowly, she pushes the right stick forward and pulls the left back. The excavator turns in a wide arc, the grinding of the treads echoing in the small clearing. Then, with growing confidence, she pushes both sticks forward, guiding us straight toward the dirt pile.

“I did it!” Grace’s face lights up, her excitement spilling over as the tension in her shoulders melts away.

“You’re a quick study.” I grin at her, the tight knot in my stomach loosening. “Let’s head to that dirt pile and work on using the bucket for a while.”

Grace glances from the controls to the dirt pile, her confidence building with each second. She moves again, the excavator crawling toward its destination, her hands steady now. But I can’t help keeping my gaze sharp, watching every subtle movement. One wrong move and the whole machine could tip.

This is where things get tricky. My pulse quickens, knowing the challenge ahead. “Okay, so roll up a bit more, then stop,” I instruct, my voice calm but my mind already calculating every possible misstep. I watch as Grace inches the machine forward, her brow furrowed with focus, until she stops and glances up at me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I reach out and take hold of the green stick in front of her, fingers steady as I slowly press forward. “This lowers the small blade in the front of the excavator,” I explain, feeling the tension in the air. “It helps keep us from sliding forward when you dig.” I push until I feel the machine lift slightly, the creak of metal under strain. My breath hitches as the weight shifts. Perfect.

“In this position, you can use the boom arm,” I tell her, guiding her hand to the two joysticks on the chair’s arms. Her skin feels warm under mine, a subtle reminder of her nerves. “The one on your left extends the arm or brings it back.” I demonstrate, moving the arm with precision, watching it swing like a giant mechanical limb through the dim light. The machine groans as I push it right, the world outside tilting slightly before I bring it back to center.

“The stick on the right operates the bucket, extending it or curling it up,” I continue, positioning myself behind her, close enough to feel the slight tremble in her breath. My arms reach over hers, the scent of diesel and dirt mingling in the cool evening air as I guide the bucket through its range. Slowly, deliberately, I scoop up some dirt and swing the machine to the right, dumping the load with a satisfying thud. The earth moves, but the tension between us feels even heavier. This is her moment.

I step aside, giving her space. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

Grace wipes her palms on her pants, a nervous habit that only makes my heart race faster. She grips the joysticks, her movements tentative at first. But soon, confidence blossoms. The boom extends contracts, the bucket flexes under her command. When she scoops her first bucket of dirt and dumps it with precision, my chest swells with pride.

“That was awesome! Can I do it again?” Her eyes light up, and for a moment, the tension eases.

“Absolutely,” I say, unable to hide my grin. “I’m going to check in with Nic. You can move this whole pile if you want. Tonight’s just about getting used to the machine. Have fun with it.”

I lean in, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before stepping out of the cab, my mind already shifting to the next task. But as I walk toward Nic, I can’t help but glance back at Grace. The steady hum of the machine blends with the quiet thrill of knowing she’s got this.

Nic is smiling as he watches Grace in the machine by herself, effortlessly moving the dirt around like she’s done this a thousand times before. “You have her running that machine by herself in less than an hour.” Nicolai beams, clearly proud of our mate, his chest puffing out just a little more. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was just a refresher course for her. Those two,” he gestures toward Ambrose and Griffin, who are now standing around looking more than a little defeated, “just couldn’t get it. I had to walk away and let them figure it out for themselves.” Nicolai chuckles, shaking his head. The sound filled with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

I follow Nic’s gaze, my attention settling back on Grace, her movements smooth and controlled, as if she’s been running an excavator for years rather than mere minutes. The low hum of the machine echoes in the air, the rhythmic scoop, and drop of dirt almost hypnotic. She’s in her element, focused, determined.

A rush of pride swells in my chest as I watch her. There’s something mesmerizing about the way her mind works, how quickly she picks things up. Grace’s intelligence astounds me on most days, but moments like this? They remind me just how extraordinary she really is. I can’t help but wish I was even half as brilliant as she is. She makes everything seem so easy, so effortless, and I’m left in awe, trying to keep up.

Nic nudges me slightly, his eyes still glued to her. “You know, I think she might have a secret life as a machine operator. We should ask her later,” he jokes, but there’s an underlying admiration in his tone, a sense of awe we both feel.

I smirk, but there’s a tightness in my chest now. It’s moments like these when I realize how lucky I am to be with her—this woman who can do anything she sets her mind to.