The next morning, I jolted awake and nearly dove out of my sleeper, half-dressed and still disoriented. For a moment, I wondered if the events of the previous night had been nothing more than a vivid dream. But there, sitting on my dashboard, was the set of keys my uncle had handed me. And outside, through the windshield, loomed the monstrous black and chrome beast those keys belonged to.
It hadn’t been a dream. My dream truck was real, and it was mine.
Noticing a few other drivers milling around, clearly gawking at the rig, I slipped back into the sleeper to finish getting dressed. I pulled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a clean black tank top, and my leather coat. As I checked myself over in the small mirror, a new resolve settled over me. If they wanted me to be an alpha, then I was damn well going to look the part.
With a serious expression set on my face, I grabbed my new set of keys, threw open the driver’s side door, and jumped out of the cab, landing in a crouch.
The door slammed shut behind me as I strutted toward my new truck, twirling the keys around my finger. Yeah, I was putting on a show. We werewolves love to make an entrance, after all. Catching the spinning keys in my hand, I jammed one into the door lock and swung it open, climbing into the plush leather seat.
I glanced over at the other drivers, all of them staring at me and the truck, their expressions a mix of envy and admiration. With a devious smile, I reached down and cranked the engine. The beast roared to life, but the sound it made wasn’t quite what I expected—something was off, almost as if it wasn’t a diesel.
Pushing that thought aside for now, I slipped the gear shift into low gear, released the brakes, and eased my new beauty into the empty spot beside my old Peterbilt 579. Popping her out of gear and engaging the brakes, I listened to the engine’s steady rumble.
For an older model, this truck was in pristine condition. As I began to inspect the cab, I noticed that everything looked brand new—the mattress was still wrapped, the shelves lined with protective plastic, and the bed net was neatly zip-tied in place. Even the oversized navigation and entertainment system in the center of the dash had its protective film still on.
What the hell? Was this truck rebuilt?
Curiosity gnawed at me as I cracked open the door to check the data tag in the frame. My eyes widened in disbelief—it read May of 2030. Rubbing my eyes, I double-checked. Yep, I’d read it right. This was a 2030 Peterbilt 389 SE.
What the hell is an SE model? Special Edition?
A knock on the passenger side door snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked over to see a guy standing on the step, peering in. Rolling down the window, I raised an eyebrow.
“Can I help you?” I asked, keeping my voice cool.
“Damn girl, this is a sick-looking truck!” he said, his southern drawl thick with admiration.
“Thanks,” I replied, letting a sly smile creep across my face.
He leaned in, his eyes scanning the cab before his brow furrowed in confusion. “How many miles does this old girl have?” he asked, curious.
“Two hundred and forty-six,” I said, casually.
“Two hundred and forty-six thousand miles?” he whistled. “No wonder she looks brand new.”
“No,” I corrected, enjoying the moment. “Two hundred and forty-six miles. That’s it.”
He blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. “Yeah, sure… They stopped making Peterbilt 389s back in 2023.”
“I’m serious. Come look for yourself,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
He circled around to the driver’s side, and I let him lean into the cab to see the odometer for himself. I then pointed down at the data sticker in the door frame.
“Holy Luna!” he exclaimed. “It is a brand new 389!”
That’s when I caught a whiff of his scent—he was a werewolf too. I leaned back to get a better look at him. He was about my age, with short brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and soft hazel eyes that had an almost yellow tint. I could sense his rank—middle-tier, some dominance, but not much.
“Told you so,” I chirped, enjoying the moment.
“Damn, Alpha, how come you got the badass truck?” he asked, envy clear in his voice.
I gave him a questioning look. Why was he calling me alpha? I scrutinized him, but I couldn’t recall seeing him in the conference room yesterday.
“Uh, do I know you?” I asked, suspicion creeping into my tone.
“Oh! Sorry. I’m Jake Holland. I was one of the other nine drivers offered to join the mission last night,” he explained, extending his hand.
“Ah, got it,” I said, shaking his hand briefly. “I just don’t remember seeing you there.”
“I’m not surprised,” he began, but then his excitement got the better of him. “Lyra Acosta, daughter of the late Council leader Alpha Acosta, close friend of Lord Lycotonu and the Zaraki family, and member of Team Amethyst. You’re pretty well-known among the rogues.”
“Uh, yeah,” I replied, my expression souring at the mention of my father.
“Sorry, did I say something wrong, Alpha?” he asked, concern coloring his voice.
“Just don’t mention my father again, please,” I said flatly, my tone leaving no room for argument.
“My apologies, Alpha,” he said, his tone more subdued.
I nodded and gestured for him to step back so I could get out of the truck. He stepped down and moved aside as I climbed out. Walking over to the hood, I unlatched it, with Jake following close behind. He towered over me by nearly a foot, but I shook off the difference in size. Leaping up, I grabbed the winged hood ornament and tried to use my body weight to leverage it open. To my surprise, the damn hood wouldn’t budge.
I put some wolf strength into it, but it still didn’t budge. Frustrated, I jumped down and glared at the hood, growling under my breath. This shouldn’t be that hard. I was small, but I was still a werewolf—this should’ve been easy.
Shifting halfway into my wolf form, I gathered my strength and tried again. The hood lifted a couple of inches before I lost my grip, and it slammed down with a heavy thud. I shot a glance at Jake, who was barely concealing his amusement.
“Don’t just stand there—give me a hand,” I growled, irritation clear in my voice.
“I would think an alpha could open her own hood,” he teased, his grin widening.
I shot him a glare, pointing a clawed finger at him. “I can open my own hood, thank you very much. This mfer is just really freaking heavy.”
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“It can’t be that heavy…” he said, confident.
“Alright, Mr. Tough Guy, you try it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
He shrugged and walked over to the front of the hood, grabbing the ornament. Leaning back, he tried to leverage it open. When it didn’t budge, I arched an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. He tried again, muscles bulging as he let out a growl. The hood rose a few inches before he lost his grip, and it slammed down, rocking my truck.
“Damn, Alpha, you weren’t joking,” he said, catching his breath.
“Told ya,” I replied flatly. “Now, grab the other fender, and let’s see if we can open it together.”
He nodded, moving to the other side. We counted to three, and together, we heaved. Slowly, the hood began to lift. When it finally reached its peak, it leaned forward and locked into place. I looked up at the underside and immediately saw why it was so heavy—the entire hood was made of three-quarter inch steel plating.
“Alpha? Is that steel plating I’m looking at?” Jake asked, his voice laced with awe.
“I think so,” I replied, still processing what I was seeing.
Turning to inspect the engine, my eyes widened at the sight of it. Instead of the usual Cummins, the engine was painted construction yellow, with the word CAT emblazoned across the intake tube on a stamped metal plaque. I blinked, staring at the monstrous yellow engine. What in the world?
I leaned into the hood to get a better look, and Jake, who was equally puzzled, moved closer. “I thought Cat stopped producing highway engines years ago?” I asked, more to myself than to him.
“They did. This is something new,” he replied, coming over to the driver’s side. Together, we examined the engine and discovered some rather intriguing features. Mounted to the side was a contraption that looked almost like a small fusion reactor, with thick cables and tubes connecting to and from it.
I scratched my head, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Not only was the hood up-armored, but I also found a V-shaped piece of steel plating covering the bottom of the engine. Kneeling down, I peeked under the truck and saw that the plate extended all the way back to the rear of the seventy-two-inch sleeper.
“I think my truck is up-armored…” I said, my voice tinged with a mix of awe and concern.
“I kinda thought your window looked thicker than usual when you rolled it down earlier,” Jake replied, his tone contemplative.
“Huh,” was all I could manage.
Just then, Jake’s phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, swiping the screen to answer. “Jake Holland,” he announced in a professional tone.
I couldn’t hear who was on the other end over the sound of the engine, so I busied myself checking out more of the truck’s features.
“No, I’m in the parking lot with Alpha Acosta,” he replied to the caller.
There was a brief pause before he continued, “No, we’re looking at her new truck.”
Another pause.
“Oh, alright. I’ll let her know,” Jake said before ending the call.
I arched an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. “Let me know what?”
“That was Steve. He said you need to move your stuff over to the new truck. The team needs to head to the Ankeny yard at noon to pick up their trucks,” Jake explained.
“You haven’t gotten your trucks yet?” I asked, a bit surprised.
“No, we’re getting them this afternoon,” he said with a shrug.
“Alright, I guess I’d better get everything moved over then,” I replied coolly.
“Need a hand?” he offered.
“Sure! That would be great,” I said, genuinely relieved. Moving trucks was like moving house—always a nightmare.
For the next hour and a half, Jake and I worked together, shuttling all of my belongings from the old truck to the new one. My phone dinged a couple of times while we worked. Checking it, I saw a text from Steve telling me not to worry about detailing my old truck and to leave the keys on the dipstick. The second message was from Star, asking how I liked my new present.
I replied that I loved it. Come to find out, she, Cayro, the Bractons, Aura, Zak, my uncle, Director Staroko, and Dr. Volkova had all pitched in to buy the truck for me. I had to sit down for a moment to gather my emotions. This was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me. For so long, I’d felt alone, with no one to turn to. But since meeting Cayro and Star, I felt like I finally had a family.
Jake noticed that I’d paused and asked if I was okay. I assured him I was and gave him a reassuring smile. I simply told him that my family had just reminded me how much they cared and how happy they were for me. He didn’t need to know the details—that they’d bought the truck for me.
Once all my possessions were moved over, including my skyboard that I kept stashed on the upper bunk in my old truck, we began transferring my securement equipment from the old enclosed headache rack to the new one. Grabbing one of my hundred-and-twenty-pound lumber tarps, I effortlessly tossed it to Jake, who caught it with ease.
One of the regular company drivers passing by stopped and gawked at me. So, naturally, I did it again, just to see his reaction. He stared at me like he’d never seen a woman toss something heavy before. I shot him a grin and grabbed one of my eighty-pound steel tarps, tossing it just as easily. The guy slowly turned and quickly walked away.
We finished moving everything from my headache rack with time to spare. I didn’t have time to organize the interior of my new truck, but we managed to squeeze in a quick wash-up and grab a burger before heading to the Ankeny yard. After hanging my old keys on the dipstick of my old truck, Jake and I made our way over to the café. We quickly ordered our food and found a table, eating in comfortable silence, only breaking it once we’d finished.
“Thanks, Jake, for helping me,” I said, genuinely appreciative.
“Not a problem, Alpha,” he replied, nodding.
“I’ll help you move when you get your truck,” I offered.
“Thanks, Alpha, but you don’t have to,” he said, though his tone showed he appreciated the gesture.
“I want to. You helped me, so I want to return the favor,” I insisted.
“Alright,” he agreed, a small smile playing on his lips.
Just because I was now an alpha didn’t mean I couldn’t get my hands dirty. I wasn’t going to be one of those alphas who just sat around watching while the pack did all the work. If they worked, then I worked. A pack was a team, not my subjects. I wasn’t going to be like my father. He was gone, and I was determined to do things my own way.
Standing up, I stretched, feeling the tension in my back ease. “Alright, I’m heading over to the Ankeny yard. I’ll see you when you get there, okay?”
“10-4, Alpha,” Jake said, giving me a two-finger salute.
I walked out to my truck and fired it up, backing it out of its spot. As I shifted into first gear, I felt the upper splitter slide forward when I thumbed it out of habit. The truck upshifted smoothly when I lifted my foot from the accelerator. Glancing down, I noticed the splitter wasn’t the usual red—this one was gray. Well, I’ll be damned. An eighteen-speed transmission. Alright then.
Hitting Iowa Highway 5, I jammed through the gears, enjoying the deep, throaty growl of the new engine. It was different—more powerful than a standard diesel. Bobtailing, I tore down the highway at a rapid pace, feeling the truck twist slightly with each shift as the torque surged through the driveline. There was some serious power under that heavy-ass hood.
It took about twenty minutes to reach the Ankeny yard. When I pulled in, I immediately noticed a large section fenced off with a twelve-foot-high chain-link privacy fence. As I rolled into the yard, one of the mechanics waved me down. I brought the truck to a stop, and he approached my window. Rolling down the thick glass, I leaned out.
“Afternoon, Ms. Acosta. Please head over to the gated entrance,” he instructed, handing me a lanyard with an ID attached.
I nodded and rolled over to the gate. As I approached, it began to open automatically. Driving through, I got my first look at what the fence had been hiding. Nine brand-new black Peterbilt 589s, all neatly parked in a row. Across from them were ten trailers, each looking heavily modified.
There were five removable gooseneck trailers, three forty-eight-foot ten-two split axle flat decks, another RGN with some strange box on it that had a folded crane, a large air compressor, and a generator. The last trailer looked like a big Conex box that had been up-armored. Interesting… What exactly are those last two trailers?
As I scanned for a spot to park, I saw Steve walking up to me. I waited for him, and he stepped up, poking his head through the window.
“Nice truck, Alpha!” he said excitedly.
“Thanks, it was a gift,” I replied with a smile.
“The president must really like you,” he said, grinning back.
“Actually, it was a present from my entire family,” I corrected him. “For now, just keep that between us, okay?”
“I’ll do that,” he promised.
“Where should I park?” I asked, glancing around.
“Go ahead and hook up to the Conex trailer,” he replied.
My excitement dimmed slightly—I had hoped for one of the RGNs or flat decks.
“Oh, Alpha, don’t look so disappointed. That’s the most important trailer in our fleet,” he added playfully, sensing my reluctance.
“It is?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah… It’s my office and the fleet kitchen,” Steve said with a laugh.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course, it’s important—it’s where all the food will be stashed!” I joked.
“You know it,” he replied with a grin.
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly as he stepped down. Shifting gears, I drove over to the trailer and carefully lined up with it. Backing up slowly, I heard the satisfying click as my fifth wheel latched onto the kingpin. Shifting into low gear, I pulled forward slightly to give a soft tug, making sure the trailer was securely locked in. Satisfied, I popped the brakes and hopped out, grabbing my gloves.
I quickly hooked up the airlines, the seven-way plug, and the ABS plug, working with the efficiency born of habit. Walking to the side of the trailer, I raised the landing gear before heading to the back. There, I found a set of steps folded down and the door slightly ajar.
Climbing inside, I came to an abrupt halt, my eyes widening as I took in the interior.
“Wow!” I exclaimed, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it.