Page 9 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack (Return to Wolf Creek #4)

Chapter 9

Nicolai

The charges go off, and a flurry of notifications lights up my phone, but the momentary satisfaction is cut short. Something feels off. My gut twists, the kind of twist that warns me this is too easy for the scale we’re working on. It’s unsettling how smoothly everything is falling into place. Too smooth.

When the dust settles, we’re supposed to head to the designated mine shafts. The northern one is mine. Grace and Ethan will head to me. Ambrose is teaming up with Griffin for the southern most mine. By all accounts, the northern system is the largest, making it the likeliest place for them to be hiding.

Pacing back and forth, I keep my eyes glued to the dirt road leading to the northern mine. Where are they? They should’ve arrived by now . My hand hovers over my radio, ready to call—when I catch sight of movement. Ethan’s wolf crests the horizon, Grace close behind. They’re carrying their packs in their mouths, clothes bundled between their jaws, and I feel the tension in my chest release slightly.

I lead them to the nearby tent, where they shift back immediately, muscles rippling under their skin as they return to human form. Ethan reaches for his clothes first. “We’re ready,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head.

Grace slips into her tee and leggings, her voice steady as she asks, “Have you heard from the others?”

“Radio silence until nightfall,” I remind her, my voice low. “Just in case the rogues are listening for any chatter between us.” I pull her into a hug, pressing my lips to her temple, and offer a smile. “The chief said you did an expert job closing the tunnel. That’s high praise coming from him.”

Grace blushes, a hint of pride in her smile. “You guys gave me a ton of instruction on how to run the machine. It was like playing that claw game at the arcade.” She chuckles, but Ethan’s already pulling her to him, his hands roving over her arms and sides, making sure she’s unharmed.

Once Ethan’s satisfied, we step out of the tent, hand in hand, taking in the wolves from all packs standing just inside the tree line, their eyes fixed on the mine entrance. Grace’s voice cuts through the tension as she asks, “How long do you think it’ll take before they surface?”

I glance at my watch, then at the sinking sun. “Not long, I hope. Five out of seven mine shafts have been sealed, so their air is getting thin.” Concentrating, I reach out through our bond to the beta at the southern shaft. Nothing. “No movement there either.”

Grace nods, but then suddenly freezes, her body going eerily still. The shift is instant, almost like she’s no longer fully present. “What do you know, Grace?” Ethan’s at her side in a flash, gripping her arms as his eyes dart around, scanning the area.

“Something’s coming,” she murmurs, her voice hollow, detached.

A chill prickles down my spine. “What’s coming?” I ask, stepping closer, placing a hand on her arm, trying to anchor her back to us.

“It’s not me,” she whispers. “It’s Griff... He feels it.” Her eyes sharpen, snapping back to us as she exhales sharply. “The rogues are on the move. It could be a diversion to pull us to the other tunnel.” Her voice falters on that last part, uncertainty creeping in.

Before I even have a chance to decide whether we should head toward the southern tunnel, rogues pour out of this one. There’s no time to think, no time to plan. My shift is instant, bones cracking, skin tearing, and the next moment, my wolf takes over. The battle begins.

The air fills with snarls, growls, and the metallic tang of blood. Wolf on wolf as far as I can see, a chaotic blur of fur, claws, and teeth. I recognize some of them—defectors from our neighboring packs. It tears at me to see their faces, familiar expressions twisted in the madness of battle. But there’s no hesitation. No mercy. I crush their windpipes, tear through their flesh. They made their choice, and I have no choice but to end them.

My heart tightens as I dispatch another rogue. There’s no joy in this, only the bitter reality of survival. Then a massive force slams into the fray, and I feel a surge of relief. The Kodiak sleuth has arrived, and they’re tearing through the rogues like they’re nothing. A half-ton of angry bear versus a rogue wolf? The rogues don’t stand a chance. Limbs are tossed like broken twigs, bones shattering under the sheer weight of the bears’ fury. They’re cleaning house.

Nearby, Ethan and Grace move like a deadly pair, in perfect sync. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine in action. When he lunges, she retreats to guard his flank, and when she strikes, he’s already expecting the next move. They fight with the seamless connection Ethan once described when they hunted the ones who took our daughters. It’s like they’ve been fighting together for decades, not just this past year.

‘It’s the way of sired wolves,’ my wolf murmurs in the back of my mind as I rip the throat out of another rogue, the blood spraying warm across my muzzle.

‘I still don’t like it,’ I snarl back, moving toward my next target with deadly precision.

‘You don’t have to. It simply is.’ My wolf falls silent, leaving me to focus on the next rogue hurtling my way.

Grace’s words resurface, haunting me as I tear into my opponent. What is happening behind the scenes that we don’t know about? There’s a dark undercurrent here, something deeper, more dangerous than just a rogue attack. I can feel it, like the tension before a storm. We’re fighting on the surface, but something tells me the real danger is still hidden, waiting to strike when we least expect it.

But for now, there’s no time to dwell on it. There’s only the fight, the blood, and the question that gnaws at me: What don’t we know?

Several hours later…

The fighting has finally stopped on our end. I draw in a deep breath, the scent of blood and dirt heavy in the air. The surrounding battlefield is littered with bodies—some still, others twitching in the final throes of death. My eyes land on Grace’s silver-white pelt, now streaked with vermillion. She stands tall, her breath coming in deep, steady gulps, but there’s a gleam in her eyes that tells me she’s not done. Not yet. Ethan’s wolf has his head resting over her shoulders, scanning the surroundings. I can’t tell who’s holding who back in that pair, but I’m just thankful they’ve got each other under control. For now .

Across the field, the Kodiaks’ alpha lifts his head in my direction, a wordless nod of acknowledgment, and I do the same. It’s our way of saying goodbye, and showing respect. That’s one group you want in your corner, especially when you know the odds are against you. You never feel quite so outnumbered with them fighting beside you.

Grace and Ethan trot off toward the tent, their forms blending into the fading light. I follow behind, slower, taking in the last remnants of the battlefield, the unsettling silence after the chaos. Inside the tent, Grace is already wearing Ethan’s spare shirt, the hem of it nearly hitting her knees. Ethan’s standing in just his jeans, his chest bare, sweat and blood streaked down his skin. Looks like neither of them thought ahead to bring a second change of clothes. I shift back and dig through my bag, tossing Grace a pair of my sweatpants.

She catches them with a tired but appreciative smile. “Thanks. I miscalculated how many outfits I’d need.” She shrugs, tying the string tight around her waist before letting out a sigh.

“I think we did alright,” Ethan says as he steps outside the tent, his eyes scanning the distance. His wolf is still lingering beneath the surface. I can feel it, just barely leashed.

We walk through the battlefield again, the three of us silent, scanning the aftermath. The bodies, the blood, the broken trees scattered across the dirt. But nowhere—nowhere in all this mess—is the missing elder.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, frustration tightening in my chest. “He’s still out there.” My gaze shifts to the horizon, the sun already sinking low, casting long shadows over the bodies and ruins of the fight. It’s almost nightfall. We’re running out of daylight, and we still haven’t heard from the other team. My gut churns with unease. Something’s wrong. Something’s off.

The quiet feels too fragile, too temporary, like it’s holding its breath for whatever comes next. I can only hope we’ll hear from the others soon, before the night swallows us whole.

The stench of blood and smoke clings to the air, heavy and oppressive as I stand beside Grace. She’s perched at the edge of the carnage, staring out over the field of death and destruction, her expression as calm as the still water of a lake before a storm. Her face betrays nothing, not a flicker of emotion to anyone watching. But I know her well enough to sense the tension coiled beneath that stoic mask. Every so often, she glances over her shoulder, her gaze landing on the dirt road. She’s waiting—for the others to join us, for the plan to unfold, for something.

The wind shifts. In that moment, her head jerks toward the road, her body tensing like a bowstring pulled taut. She turns toward us, just for a second, and her eyes flare, glowing bright with her wolf’s intensity. Something’s wrong.

Before I can react, she’s shifting—her form rippling and breaking into the powerful white wolf we know so well. Then, she’s gone, a blur of white fur racing not toward the road, but into the woods.

My heart lurches. The direction she’s headed … it’s straight toward her pack.

Ethan and I exchange a glance before we’re both shifting, paws hitting the ground with barely a pause. We tear after her, the pounding of my paws thundering in time with my heartbeat, but even at our speed, keeping up with Grace is nearly impossible. Her white wolf streaks through the woods like a ghost, her movements so fast, so precise, she’s almost untouchable.

The forest is a blur around me as we push harder. In the distance, I see her form skirting the edge of her pack’s land. Then she let loose a howl. The sound cuts through the air like a blade, and a shiver runs down my spine. It’s a command, a summoning of her pack’s might. And it’s fierce.

‘It’s Griffin,’ Ethan’s voice cuts through my mind, filled with a weight I can feel deep in my bones. ‘She can’t feel him.’

I push harder, my muscles burning as I try to close the distance between us. Wolves emerge from the trees, dozens upon dozens of them, flanking us as we run. Grace howls again, the sound desperate this time, raw and aching, as she crosses onto my pack’s land. There’s fear in that howl—a fear she’s trying to drown out, but it’s there, thrumming beneath the surface.

‘If he’s dead … you would’ve felt it, right?’ I send the thought to Ethan, my gaze darting around as my pack joins the chase.

Ethan’s reply comes cold, clipped, as though he’s trying to convince himself. ‘In theory, yes. Grace would be the first to know. A Luna is only as strong as the mates she chooses. She chose six mates. Losing one won’t weaken her much.’

His tone is detached, but I can feel the tight coil of worry winding through him. This is his brother we’re talking about. He’s just as afraid as she is.

Ahead, Grace surges forward, her desperation palpable now. The forest feels alive with tension, every wolf on edge, waiting for the moment we find out the truth. And all I can think is—if Griffin’s gone, the storm that’s coming won’t just be hers.