Page 9 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack

“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 betweenyour 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 standson 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 slidesinto 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 youwant 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 pushuntil I feel the machine lift slightly, the creak of metal under strain. My breath hitches as the weight shifts. Perfect.

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