Sitting in my cab, sipping on my usual morning Red Bull, I watched as my pack members slowly stirred and began their day. One by one, they drifted toward the MCV for breakfast, each lost in their routines. We had the next thirty-four hours off—a rare break to catch up on the joys of life, like laundry and grocery shopping. Meanwhile, I was doing my best to avoid all that, hiding out in my truck, the familiar hum of my favorite podcast filling the cab.

The commentators were knee-deep in a discussion about skyboards and their latest military applications—a strange blend of nostalgia and the grim reality of war. It seemed like every well-known skyboarder was signing up to join their country’s military these days, as if the sport had become the new boot camp. No one wanted to admit it, but we were in the middle of a third global war. Of course, the Free States of America was staying out of it—still licking its wounds from our so-called civil war.

“Civil war,” I scoffed under my breath. It was more like a single, colossal battle that finally pulled back the curtain on what the U.S. government had really become—a puppet for the Chinese and their supernatural cronies, the Nacht Society. The revelation had hit like a bombshell. The real U.S. government had crumbled nearly two decades ago, replaced by a shadow regime that twisted laws and policies to erode everything the country was built on.

The Twilight weapon—who could forget that nightmare? It tore Washington D.C. apart, gave them an excuse to impose martial law, but they miscalculated. They didn’t anticipate the resistance that had already taken root, the players working behind the scenes to take them down.

Sure, we won. But the victory came at a steep price. The United States—or what was left of it—lost land for the first time in over a century. NATO turned its back on us, and any trust other countries had in the name "United States" was obliterated. We had to rebuild from the ashes, starting with the government itself. Using the remnants of the old U.S. Declaration of Independence and Constitution, our leaders reworked everything.

The first move? Handing power back to the states. No more federal overreach, no more manipulation from the top. The executive branch got a major overhaul too—gone were the days of career politicians playing their four-year games. Now, the president had to be a veteran officer, someone who’d actually served and knew what it meant to lead. No more campaigns filled with empty promises; the candidates were judged on their records, on who they were and what they stood for. And once elected, they were in for a solid ten years. No re-election, no second chances—just a decade to lead or to fall.

President Clark was the first to take the mantle. A man with a tattered reputation, yet when the Council of State Governors came calling, he somehow won the popular vote by a landslide. He’d been crucial in restructuring the foundations of the Free States. His crowning achievement? The Republic Reconstruction Accords, a return to the basics, stripping down the Bill of Rights to its core and making sure no law could infringe on those fundamental freedoms. It was a gutting of the legislative branch, leaving them with only the essentials—no more, no less.

I could probably ramble on for days about all the changes since the U.S. fell apart. The so-called "civil war" might have been just one big battle, but the aftermath? That’s where the real damage was done. Our once-mighty country was knocked down a peg—or ten—and now, those who used to tremble at the mere mention of the United States are making their moves. As much as we want to help our old allies, we're stretched too thin, barely holding our own borders.

Lord Lycotonu's solution? Send out our packs, now military units, to support Europe in their battles—with the President’s blessing, of course. Sure, if they help win a fight or two, that’s great. But we’re not throwing full military weight behind them, not when the Chinese are breathing down our necks, trying to push further into our territory. We’ve got our hands full just keeping them at bay.

I took another sip of my beloved Red Bull, letting the caffeine kick in, when my phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was one of the DOT officers from last night. Wonderful. Just what I needed this morning.

“Hello, Officer Connor,” I answered, trying to keep my tone polite.

“Good morning, Alpha Acosta,” he replied, all business. “I wanted to thank you for allowing my team and me into your camp last night. We had a great experience and were wondering if you and your unit might be interested in participating in a fundraiser in a few weeks.”

A fundraiser? That’s a new one. “You want us to participate in a fundraiser?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes, if you’re willing. It’s for the families of civil servants who lost their lives during the Second Twilight Winter and the events that followed,” he explained. “SkyTeam participates every year. We asked Dr. Zaraki if you could join, but he suggested we ask you directly.”

Of course, he did. “Let me check with my pack first. If they’re on board, I’ll have Dr. Zaraki let you know,” I replied, trying to keep it light.

“Sounds good. I look forward to hearing from you,” he said, and after a quick exchange of goodbyes, I hung up.

Just as I was about to set my phone down, it dinged with a new message. Suspicious, I checked the screen—this time, it was my uncle, summoning me to his office for a meeting. Great, more mysteries. I shot back a quick reply, saying I’d drive over after dropping the FRS. He responded, telling me not to bother with the truck; a driver would pick me up in a company car. Fancy.

I shrugged and sent a thumbs-up emoji before finally putting my phone down. Time to check in with Scuzball. I tapped my tablet, and within moments, the digital furball appeared on the screen, stretching like he’d just woken up. Honestly, it was uncanny how much he seemed to be actually looking at me.

“Good morning, buddy,” I greeted him.

“Good morning, Lyra. What can I do for you?” he replied with that usual digital charm.

“Any idea why Uncle wants to see me?” I asked, hoping he might have some insight.

“Actually, no. He’s been keeping things pretty tight-lipped lately,” Scuzball said, frowning as if the very thought annoyed him.

“That surprises you? Why?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Honestly, it doesn’t. It’s just frustrating as hell,” he grumbled.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, standing up to change into something more presentable. No sense in showing up to a mystery meeting looking like I’d just crawled out of the cab.

It didn’t take long for the driver to arrive at the Ankeny yard. As I walked over to the company car, I spotted Kira heading out, probably on her own mission. We exchanged waves, and then I slid into the passenger seat, giving the driver a quick nod. Time to see what Uncle had up his sleeve this time.

He didn’t make any move to put the car in gear right away. Instead, he nodded his head towards Kira. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking at her in confusion. Why was he waiting for Kira? She reached the car, opened the back door, and climbed in, settling into the seat behind me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

“I was told to come to headquarters,” she replied.

“For what?” I pressed, still baffled.

“I don’t know. Steve just said I had a meeting with someone at headquarters and that I had to go.” She shrugged, clearly as puzzled as I was.

I raised an eyebrow and turned back around. Odd. Maybe she’s also part of whatever meeting Uncle has called me in for. Finally, I nodded at the driver, signaling that we were good to go, and the vehicle smoothly pulled out. We rode in silence, weaving through morning traffic. About twenty minutes later, we arrived at headquarters. The driver pulled up to the door of the main office, parking next to my uncle’s SUV. Kira and I got out and made our way inside.

Stepping into the main lobby, I spotted Sherman in his usual spot, hunched over his computer screen, taking notes on something. Kira and I both waved as I spoke up.

“Hey, Sherman, I was told to come in and speak with the company president,” I said with a smile.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Acosta. Right this way, please,” he replied in his usual squeaky voice, gesturing for me to follow him to the office door. “Ms. Cross, please wait here. I’ll escort you to your meeting when I return.”

I gave Kira a quick smile before following Sherman through the door into the main office. He led me to my uncle’s office, gave me a quick nod, and shuffled off back towards his desk. I watched him go for a moment, then turned to face my uncle’s office door. After a brief knock, I heard his voice through the door.

“Come in,” he said.

I stepped inside, finding him at his desk, sipping coffee while reviewing a stack of paperwork. I moved further into the office, closing the door behind me, and took a seat in the same chair I’d occupied during my last visit. This time, the office looked more lived-in—books and papers scattered across the desk, highlighters and pens littering the surface. Clearly, he’d been spending more time here than at his mansion in Cedar Rapids. I waited for him to finish what he was doing before speaking.

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“Do you know how irritating it is to be kicked out of your own office so you can accommodate a close friend and your children?” he asked, still focused on his paperwork.

“Um… no, not really,” I answered, giving him a questioning look.

“Andrew’s using my mansion as a war room,” he huffed, finally looking up.

“Why? Didn’t the government build a new capital in Knoxville, Tennessee?” I asked, trying to understand the situation.

“Yes, but with Star and Cayro using SkyTeam as their base of operations, Andrew decided it would be better if he and his cabinet worked out their plans here in Iowa,” he explained, sounding mildly exasperated.

“Oh,” I said, the pieces clicking into place.

“That brings me to why I asked you to come see me. I have a mission for you—one that requires your expertise,” he continued, setting his paperwork aside and giving me his full attention.

“The fleet has a new mission?” I asked, perking up.

“No, this one only requires a single truck. But given how sensitive this mission is, I need you and one other driver to handle it,” he replied.

“Oh,” I said, a bit disappointed that it wasn’t a full-fleet operation. At least the rest of the team would get some much-needed downtime.

“I’m sending you to the Aberdeen Proving Grounds, just north of Baltimore, Maryland. There, you’ll load up whatever they have waiting for us. It’ll need to be tarped and kept out of sight from the public,” he explained.

“Alright. Does it matter who I choose to take with me?” I asked.

“No, that’s your decision. However, you’ll be taking a normal company truck,” he said, almost casually.

I nearly choked on air. “A company truck? Not mine or one of the fleet’s?” I was completely baffled. What was the point of having these trucks if we weren’t going to use them?

“Because your trucks stand out too much, and this mission needs to be completed in secrecy. We need to make it look like just another routine load. Besides, your trucks are getting some modifications while you’re here. It wouldn’t make sense to send one out while the rest are being worked on.” He arched an eyebrow at me, making it clear that arguing would be futile.

“If we’re only taking one truck, why do I need a second driver?” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“So you can team drive. This load has to get back here as quickly as possible,” my uncle explained, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“Oh, it’s that important?” I asked, the weight of the task finally sinking in.

“Yes,” he confirmed, the single word carrying all the urgency I needed to hear.

I sighed, slumping back in my chair. As much as I hated the idea of leaving my truck behind, if this load was as critical as he made it sound, I’d do what needed to be done. I mentally calculated the trip—it’d be just over a thousand miles to Aberdeen, meaning a two-day round trip with two drivers. I wouldn’t be gone too long. Now the question was, which driver should I take?

“When do I need to leave?” I asked, resigned to the mission.

“The sooner, the better. If you leave today, you can be back by tomorrow night,” he said, his gaze steady.

“Will the company truck be governed?” I asked, half hoping for some leniency.

“No, it’s already in the shop getting adjusted for the trip. And before I forget, you’ll need to run logs and follow all the standard regulations,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

I groaned audibly, my disdain for regulations bubbling to the surface. “Do I have to?” I whined, fully aware of how childish I sounded.

“To maintain the cover this load needs, yes,” he chuckled.

I grumbled under my breath, thoroughly irritated. Not only couldn’t I use my own truck, but I also had to follow every annoying rule in the book. This mission was shaping up to be a real pain in the tail. I was just about to voice another complaint when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” my uncle called out.

The door swung open, and my jaw practically hit the floor when Lord Lycotonu—Zak—walked in, with Kira following close behind. What in the wolfen hell was he doing here? And why was Kira with him? I eyed him suspiciously. It had been a while since I’d last seen him, and his appearance had changed. His normally long black hair was now cut short in a military style, and he towered over me by nearly two feet. Gone were his usual rock band T-shirts and leather arm bracers; today, he was dressed in an all-black suit and logger boots. When I met his bright yellow eyes, I could tell he was here on official business. The question was, what business involved one of my wolves?

“Good morning, Dr. Zaraki, Lyra,” Zak greeted us in his deep, booming voice. “I was just stopping by to let you know that I’ve concluded my business and will be heading back to Pigeon Forge.”

I stood up immediately, giving him the respect he deserved as the King of the Wolves. Before I knew it, he had me wrapped in a tight bear hug. The sudden embrace caught me by surprise, and I let out an indignant squeak, hugging him back before he finally let go. Stepping out of his embrace, I caught sight of Kira’s expression. She looked utterly star-struck, mingled with shock at seeing Zak hug me.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” my uncle said, breaking the moment. “Lyra and I just finished our conversation. I’m sending her and another driver to Aberdeen, Maryland, to pick up a load that needs special care.”

“Really?” Zak’s eyebrow arched, his interest clearly piqued.

“Yes, it’s a two-day trip there and back,” my uncle elaborated.

“Huh, that’s rather ironic. I just happen to have a need for a wolf or two to go to Baltimore. There’s some activity with the local pack that I need more information on,” Zak said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him, fully aware of where this was heading.

“Are you suggesting that Lyra do some investigating for you while she’s there?” my uncle asked, his tone neutral but knowing.

“You did mention she and another driver were heading that way, correct? Would it be too much trouble if she could do this favor for me?” Zak asked, his tone polite but leaving little room for refusal.

“That’s correct. I’ll need to make some adjustments to the trip. Do you know how long she and her driver will be there?” My uncle inquired, already calculating logistics.

“You do know I’m standing right here, right?” I grumbled, annoyed at being talked about as if I were invisible.

“Would you be willing to do this as a favor for me?” Zak asked, his tone softening as he turned his attention to me.

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up. “Sure, Zak. What do you need me to do?” I asked, resigning myself to the inevitable.

“Perfect!” He clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. “I need you to check out what’s going on with the Cross Pack. Since you need another driver, you can take Ms. Cross. She has inside knowledge of the pack’s inner workings.”

I felt my eye twitch involuntarily as I glanced over at Kira. The look of utter terror on her face was unmistakable, and I could feel her fear seeping into our bond. This wasn’t good.

“Zak, I don’t think sending Kira is a good idea,” I tried to argue, hoping to protect her from whatever hell awaited us.

“In most cases, I’d agree with you, but Kira has the ability to get the information I need. The two of you can discuss what we talked about on your trip there.” Zak’s tone was firm, squashing my argument before it could take root.

A frustrated growl escaped my throat as I grappled with the need to protect my pack member. Unfortunately, Zak had the authority to make this happen. Then, a thought struck me. “What if I took Jake instead? He was a member of the Cross Pack,” I suggested, hoping to find a safer alternative.

“No!” Kira blurted out, her fear exploding like a bomb in the room, permeating the office with its intensity.

Zak turned on his heels, his expression one of curiosity, while I gave Kira the same questioning look. My uncle simply smiled and sipped his coffee, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

“I’ll go!” Kira declared, her voice firm despite the scent of fear lingering in the air. “Jake is too important to our pack.”

Zak furrowed his brows, turning his questioning gaze to me. “What does she mean by that?” he asked.

I sighed, my gaze dropping to the floor. “Jake is an omega wolf,” I admitted quietly.

“Ah, I didn’t know that. Very fascinating. I agree with Kira; he shouldn’t go. He’s too valuable to your pack and could be used against you,” Zak stated, his tone final.

“Alright, so Kira is going to be my co-driver then. What exactly do you need us to do?” I asked, knowing I had no choice but to accept the mission.

“I need information and evidence. Kira can brief you on what I’m looking for during the trip,” Zak replied.

I nodded and walked over to Kira, mentally preparing for the journey ahead. We needed to head back to the Ankeny yard to pack for the trip. Jake wasn’t going to like hearing this, and I had a feeling the rest of the pack wouldn’t be thrilled about Kira and me going out on our own. As we reached the door, Zak called out to us.

“Lyra, one more thing,” he said before we stepped out.

I turned back, worry creeping into my expression. “Yes?” I asked.

“I think you picked a good name for your pack. It suits you and your odd team. Director Staroko was very pleased to hear about it,” he said with a smile.

Both Kira and I returned his smile before we headed out to the main lobby. We passed Sherman, who was flipping through some mail, and waved goodbye as we made our way to the café. It was quiet, with only one of the cooks preparing lunch, her back turned toward us as we passed by. Neither of us spoke as we walked out of the café and crossed the street to the shop.

Inside, we headed straight to the service counter, where Melvin, one of the shop supervisors, quickly spotted us. As soon as he recognized me, he handed over a set of keys and pointed to a Peterbilt 579 parked in the first bay, right next to the service desk.

“The President said to be expecting you, Ms. Acosta. That’s the truck you’ll be using for your trip. We’ve adjusted some of the parameters so you’re not governed, as per the President’s request,” Melvin informed us in a professional tone, handing over the keys.

“Thanks, Melvin,” I said, taking the keys, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Kira and I walked over to the truck and climbed in. I slid the key into the ignition and started the engine. Everything seemed normal until I reached for the shifter and clutch—and my hand came up empty. My heart sank as I glanced down where the shifter should’ve been, only to find nothing but an open blank spot. A creeping sense of dread washed over me as I scanned the driver’s area, realizing with horror that this truck was an automatic.

“Seriously? We have to drive an auto for this trip?” Kira asked, her voice dripping with disgust, perfectly mirroring my own thoughts.

“Looks like it,” I grumbled, trying to suppress the urge to curse loudly.

She let out an angry growl, yanking her seat belt on with a huff before crossing her arms, her frustration palpable. I pulled on my own seat belt, pushing in the brake valve as I did. Reluctantly, I used the gear selector—an abomination sticking out from the right-hand side of the steering column—and put the truck into reverse, slowly backing it out of the bay.

As soon as we hit the road, I mashed the accelerator to the floor, desperate to wring some life out of this glorified toaster on wheels. The truck bogged down like it was in protest, hesitating before downshifting with a violent buck. The RPMs jumped up to fifteen hundred, and the engine let out a tortured scream, but it felt like the truck was dragging its ass, refusing to pull.

I gritted my teeth, hating the way the truck moved—or more accurately, didn’t move. Every time I came to a stop and tried to start again, there was an agonizing delay before the truck would rock clockwise and buck like a damn mule. It was as if the clutch wasn’t engaging until after the RPMs were over a thousand, making the whole driving experience feel like trying to swim through molasses.

I glanced over at Kira, who was gripping the armrest of her seat with a sour expression on her face, her irritation matching mine. This truck was a nightmare, and it was clear neither of us was going to enjoy this trip.

“This trip is really going to suck…” I muttered, my voice laced with frustration as the truck clunked and jerked down the road.