Page 6 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack

It’s a lot. More than I expected.

But it’s done.

Chapter 5

Griffin

Andrea spends aboutfifteen minutes with us before she leaves to grab the food we ordered. It’s the first time Grace and I are out together with no family obligations, no business hanging over our heads, and no one else tagging along. The only reason Ethan isn’t here is because he’s on duty in town right now. In the grand scheme of things, this was the safest place to bring Grace outside the house, somewhere the others felt comfortable letting her be. But even now, I can’t shake the unease gnawing at the back of my mind.

“Where did you go just now?” Grace’s soft voice cuts through the tension, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing mine. Her touch is gentle, but it grounds me, pulls me back from the edges of my thoughts.

“Nowhere special,” I lie, trying to force a smile. “Just making sure everything’s still okay so I can relax and focus on you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know she can feel the falsehood. Grace always knows.

Before she can call me out, Andrea reappears, placing our meals on the table with a smile before slipping away again. She’dtold us earlier to text her if we needed anything. The point of being out tonight was to be alone. Just us, no one watching, no interruptions.

Grace listens intently, her head tilting slightly, eyes narrowing as the door at the bottom of the staircase clicks shut. Then she turns those golden eyes on me, her gaze piercing. “I’ll accept what you’re saying at face value, but only if we play a game.” Her lips curl into a faint smile, but there’s something behind it—a wicked gleam that makes my stomach tighten. The kind of gleam that tells me her idea of a ‘game’ could shift from innocent to dangerous in a heartbeat.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides. “What are the rules?” I might as well know what I’m walking into—pleasure or pain, I’m not sure which.

“Answer my questions honestly,” she says, her fingers curling around the stem of the wineglass Andrea brought with her seafood. “Then I’ll answer yours. A question for a question. Sound fair?” She raises the glass to her lips, never breaking eye contact.

It seems harmless enough on the surface. It’s what the therapist suggested—more open communication, building trust during our one-on-one time. “Alright,” I say, nodding. “I agree with your terms.”

“Excellent,” she purrs, the glimmer in her eyes darkening, sending a cold ripple of fear down my spine. What is she up to? That wicked look, the one that tells me she’s already several steps ahead, already planning how to corner me, makes my heart beat just a little faster.

Grace leans back in her chair, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. My mind races, wondering what her first question will be, but more importantly, what game we’re really playing here tonight.

She lets me sweat, her silence stretching just long enough to make my pulse thrum in my ears. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer than I expect. “This is going to sound dumb, but here it is. If you knew back then, when you turned eighteen, who I was to you... would you have come for me?”

Her words hang between us like a challenge, and I can feel the weight of her gaze even though she’s looking down. There’s a six-year gap between us, so I know she’s asking about more than just timing—it’s about intention.

I draw in a slow breath, feeling my chest tighten. Not because I’m unsure, but because I know the truth before I even answer. “Yes,” I say, my voice steady. “I would have. At the very least, I would have watched over you, from a distance. Made sure you were safe until you turned eighteen.”

The thought of her alone all those years stirs something primal in me. I reach out, taking her hand in mine, feeling her warmth seep into my skin as I give it a reassuring squeeze. “I would have taken the first opportunity after that to introduce myself. Then... let nature take its course.”

My words come out low, but in my heart, I know they’re true. If I had known who she was back then, nothing could have kept me away. The silence that follows feels heavier now, charged with the unspoken history between us. Her hand remains in mine, and I wonder if she can feel the way my pulse quickens, a silent testament to the truth of what I’ve just said. She smiles and nods, pleased by my answer. With a tilt of her glass, it’s my turn.

What do I really want to know? My thoughts churn as I sit across from her, my heart picking up speed. “Do you think—” I pause, the words tangling in my throat as I try to figure out how to ask what’s been gnawing at me. Grace tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity as she settles into her seat, her wine glass poised in her hand, but her full attention fixed on me. The silence stretches, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

“Do you think we’re okay?” I motion between the two of us, my hand dropping back to my lap as doubt creeps in. Some days I’m solid, but then there are days like today when insecurity coils tightly around me, squeezing.

Her gaze drifts down to the glass, the liquid within swirling as though it might reveal the truth. She bites her lip, a gesture that sends a flicker of unease through me. “None of us are completely okay,” she whispers, her words careful, deliberate. “We were driven by instinct to form our bonds after your hands were forced … after I was almost murdered.”

That last part lands hard, and I catch the tremor in her voice before she takes a steadying breath. “But … I feel like we’re finally starting to breathe again. We’re getting to know each other—really know each other—outside of the bedroom.”

There’s a heaviness to the way she says it, like she’s weighing each word, and it frightens me. But there’s hope in there too, and that glimmer keeps me anchored. She’s thinking about this—about us. Her voice drops, the confession hanging in the air like a lifeline I didn’t expect.

“Therapy has been good for all of us. I started going on Tuesdays … by myself.” I blink, lowering my eyes as realizing what I just admitted to sinks in. I hadn’t planned on saying it, but it slipped out. My throat tightens, and for a second, I can’t breathe.

Grace’s fingers slip over mine, giving my hand a gentle, grounding squeeze. “I can tell,” she says, her tone warm, soft. “And I’m proud of you.” In that moment, the knot in my chest loosens, and I feel the air finally reach my lungs again.

Grace ends her game after my admission, the tension between us simmering just beneath the surface. We sneak out the back door, the night air cool against our skin as I quickly pay for our meal. Her fingers brush against mine, sending sparks up my arm, and I glance down to find her watching me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Without a word, we slip between the shadowed buildings, ducking low and hurrying toward the car, careful not to draw any attention. The thrill of sneaking away like this stirs something deep inside me.

Once we’re on the road, the hum of the engine is the only sound between us, though her excitement is palpable. I text Ambrose, telling him exactly where I plan to take Grace. There’s no way he’d object. Deep in the heart of his lands, hidden within the thick trees and far from any path most would dare to tread, there’s a waterfall. I’ve only been there a few times, but it left me breathless. Graceneedsto see it.

As we drive through the woods, the river runs alongside us, the sound of water rushing over rocks filling the air as the trees thin out. The deeper we go, the more alive the forest feels—sunlight filtering through the leaves, dappling the ground with patches of gold. Grace’s wide eyes take it all in, the awe clear on her face. She presses her hands to the window, leaning forward in her seat.

“It’s so pretty here,” she breathes, her voice almost reverent, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

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