Page 48 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack

Chapter 31

Ambrose

The memories hitme like a wave, and I can’t stop them. The last time I saw Lily, the way her eyes glowed with that fierce determination she always carried, the way she’d look at me like I was the only person in the world. Watching Grace now with her mates, seeing the easy intimacy between them, I can almost picture the life I could have had—the life I should have had. The children we could’ve raised, the family we might have built if things were different.

The sun dips lower, casting a warm glow over the horizon, and I watch as Grace finishes pumping and shifts into her wolf form. She’s beautiful and powerful, slightly larger than an average she-wolf, her white coat gleaming like moonlight. She moves between Ethan’s towering black wolf and Nicolai, who stays human for now, guiding the group through this next part of the journey.

Nicolai kisses Grace’s muzzle, and there’s something raw in his gaze—a fear I’ve never seen in a Volkov. “Time to go,” he calls out, his voice steady but laced with an unspoken plea. “Cross from here. There are several strips of land where you can take abreak before continuing on.” He points toward the faint light of a lighthouse in the distance, his hand trembling slightly. “That lighthouse is past the halfway point. Take a break there, then swim straight to the railroad yard. Use the cars as your cover.”

There’s a hesitation, a flicker of something deep in his eyes as he looks from me to Ethan and back to Grace. “Let them help you if you need it,” he says, his voice cracking just a little. “Please … don’t take any risks you don’t need to in the water.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nicolai plead. It’s a vulnerability I didn’t know he had, a softness I didn’t think he’d show. But then again, everything about Grace brings out a gentleness in the people around her. Even me.

Ethan wades into the water first, his steps confident. I watch as Grace follows, her trust in him clear, even with the water stretching dark and cold before her. It’s slack tide—we’re lucky there. No strong current to fight against, at least not yet. I linger a few beats before I swim, letting them have those first moments.

The water bites at me, cold but not unbearable, my thick fur holding off the worst of the chill. My eyes stay locked on Grace’s form just ahead, her movements cautious, but steady. She glances back occasionally, reassuring herself we’re all together. After several minutes, we reach the first strip of land, paws hitting solid ground with relief. We shake out, our fur dripping as the air bites at our damp coats.

Grace’s gaze is fixed on the lighthouse in the distance, its beam sweeping across the darkening water. Her silence holds a weight, a mixture of hesitation and resolve, and I don’t press her. She’ll move when she’s ready. I glance at Ethan, who watches her as well, his expression patient.

After a pause, Grace takes a breath and moves toward the water once more, leading us forward. Ethan steps in beside her, their shoulders nearly brushing as they swim side by side. I follow close, the current beginning to pick up, tugging at us with a slow persistence, pulling us slightly off course. But I catch sight of the strip of land ahead, a man-made stretch about half a mile out. We’re close enough, I think, though the current’s strength is growing.

Grace presses on, her determination clear even in her wolf form, and I keep my pace steady, ready for whatever comes next. We’re going to make it—step by step, swim by swim.

We climb up onto the rocks, about seventy-five feet south of the lighthouse, our paws slipping slightly on the wet, jagged surfaces. I catch the worried look Ethan shoots in my direction, and it says more than words could. The tide is shifting, and the concern in his eyes speaks to the fear that maybe Grace isn’t strong enough to make this swim. I glance at her, watching her gaze sweep over the water, steady and resolved. Her eyes burn that unmistakable orange-red of the ember wolf, a fierce determination setting her jaw. Whatever fear she might have had is gone—her mind’s made up.

Together, we approach the water’s edge, one last look passing between us before we leap in, the cold bite of the current shocking against my fur. The water pulls hard against us, and I can feel every muscle fighting as we push forward, swimming hard, trying to stay on course. But no matter how we fight, the current seems stronger this time, and I can feel us drifting off, the pull dragging us farther from our intended landing.

I glance at Grace, and I can see it—she’s tiring, her strokes slower, heavier. To be honest, I’m not faring much better. But Ethan... he’s moving with an ease that borders on unnatural,his body slicing through the water like it’s second nature. He maneuvers in front of Grace, slowing just enough, and she reaches out, sinking her teeth into the thick fur of his tail, allowing him to pull her along through the water. Relief settles over me as we make headway, the shoreline drawing closer with each stroke.

Finally, we reach the shallow waters and push through, stumbling onto solid ground at last. I’m gasping, my limbs burning, my fur soaked through and heavy. The map showed this as a railroad yard, but now that we’re here, it’s clear that it’s some sort of factory, a sprawling maze of tracks and steel structures looming over us. Grace is barely a few feet from the water’s edge, panting hard, her head hanging low with exhaustion.

Ethan moves beside her, positioning himself so that his bulk blocks the worst of the wind. His head rests protectively over her shoulders, his fur bristling slightly against the chill in the air. I watch them, feeling both the weight of our journey and the fierce protectiveness we all share for her. For now, we’ll rest, but I know we’ll be ready to push forward the moment she’s strong enough.

I haveno idea how long we’ve been trudging through this rail yard. Between dodging trains and humans, it feels like an eternity, every step tense, every noise putting us on edge. The tracks stretch endlessly in both directions, flanked by houses and narrow alleys, so we decide to stick to the rails, slipping silently between the shadows where we’re least likely to be seen.

Finally, the last cluster of houses fades behind us, and we cross under the low, looming concrete of highway 550. A wave of relief washes over me as the conservation area comes into sight, bathed in the soft glow of a single overhead light. Nic’s van sits waiting for us beneath it, and I catch the flicker of excitement in Grace’s eyes. I can feel her energy spike, the anticipation practically radiating off her as we creep through the shadows toward the driver’s side of the van.

But before any of us can say a word, Grace breaks free, dashing forward to where Nic is sitting on a bucket, his face illuminated by the light from his phone. She barrels into him, licking his face wildly, her wolf almost vibrating with joy. Nic barely has time to react, dropping his phone in surprise as she showers him with affection, her tail wagging like mad.

Ethan doesn’t waste a second. He shifts back, pulling open the sliding door of the van to grab towels. His voice cuts through the quiet, low and muttering. “That swim fucking sucked, dude … The tide started changing right as we hit the lighthouse.” He wraps a towel around his hips, his tone dry but full of that familiar exhaustion.

Nic finally manages to get a hand on Grace, chuckling softly as he wraps a beach towel around her. Relief flickers in his eyes as he looks between us, taking in our soaked, weary forms. “I was getting worried.” His voice is soft, almost a murmur, but I catch the edge of worry underneath.

I bite down on the towel Ethan hands me and climb into the van; the warmth hitting me immediately, welcome after that icy swim. I shift back and start drying off, listening as Ethan and Nicolai fuss over Grace, checking her over with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. Watching them, seeing the care in every touch and glance, I feel an emptiness open up inside me. I wantthat—someone to look at me with that kind of devotion, to hold on to in quiet, intimate moments like these.

“We need to eat and get moving again,” I say as I step out of the van, trying to shake off the ache in my chest and the stiffness in my muscles. The swim took more out of me than I’d like to admit, my limbs heavy with fatigue and my stomach protesting with hunger.

Grace and Nic climb into the van, the doors clicking shut to give her a bit of privacy. I catch Ethan’s eye as he studies the map program on the phone Nic left behind. “We have a bit of a drive to get close to the game preserve. I want to find somewhere safe to stop and sleep before we keep going,” he says, glancing up at me. I can see it in his eyes—he’s running on fumes, but he won’t admit it.

“It’s probably for the best,” I agree. “We need food, too. That swim took a lot out of us.” I feel the ache deep in my bones, and the hunger clawing at me is making it hard to think straight.

After a few moments, Nic steps out of the van alone, glancing back to check on Grace, who’s already fast asleep under a heap of blankets. He gives me a nod, his eyes softening as he watches her. “I rented two rooms at a motel along the route to the preserve,” he says. “There was a convenience store on the way here—I stopped and filled the cooler with food. Figured the three of you would need to gorge after that swim.”

A surge of relief floods me, and I crack a grin. “Nic, you’re a damn hero.”

Ethan nods, his face creased with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. As we turn toward the motel, a strange feeling settlesover me—a hint of peace, a glimmer of what it might feel like to be part of something steady and lasting.

“Sounds good,” I say, grabbing a couple of subs from the back with Ethan. He nods, already glancing back toward the van. “I’ll sit up front with Nic,” I add, figuring Ethan wouldn’t want to be far from Grace, especially with how worn out she is.

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