Steve spun around in his new desk chair and flashed me the biggest wolfish grin I’d ever seen. He had four huge monitors mounted to the wall of the trailer in a two-by-two pattern, each one displaying a different program as he set up his new system. As I got a closer look, I noticed that his chair was attached to a track system inlaid into the floor, complete with a five-point seat harness. It was clearly designed to stay secure, even in rough conditions.

Continuing my inspection, I saw two other similar stations, each with a chair and monitors, though they were currently turned off and unoccupied. Beside Steve’s desk stood a tall server rack, full of network cables and flashing lights. Next to it was a stack of new tablets and headsets, still in their boxes, ready for use.

Looking past the workstations, I spotted a hallway leading towards the front of the trailer. I weaved my way past the equipment and entered the narrow hall that ran along the passenger side. The first room I peeked into was a small bunk room with two beds and small closets. The second room was identical. The third door opened into a decent-sized bathroom.

As I moved on, I stepped into a larger room that looked like it had been compressed together. Exterior walls were present inside the trailer, with braided cables running horizontally along them. I furrowed my brows, puzzled, and turned to find Steve standing at the end of the hall with a knowing look.

“Watch this!” he said, his excitement tangible, before pressing a button I hadn’t noticed earlier.

A low rumble filled the trailer as the walls began to slide outward. I watched in amazement as the room expanded into a spacious kitchen. Three large fridges were mounted into one of the sliding walls, and at the front of the trailer was a massive cooking range with two large ovens. A long, slender island dominated the middle of the space, complete with a large sink. On the opposite wall, a huge pantry revealed itself as the last section slid into place.

“Damn!” I whistled, genuinely impressed by the transformation.

“Right?” Steve exclaimed, clearly pleased with my reaction.

“Is this what someone would call an RV?” I asked, still taking it all in.

“In most cases, yes. But this bad boy is an MCV,” he said, his pride evident.

“Huh?” I tilted my head, not following.

“It’s a mobile command vehicle, and I’m in charge of it,” he said, his chest puffing slightly with pride.

“You’re coming with us?” I asked, my thoughts momentarily derailing.

“Well, duh… I’m the fleet operations manager,” he answered, adding a bit of sass to his tone.

“Wait, you’re now an ops manager?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“I’m both. I got promoted,” he proclaimed, grinning widely. “I bet that grouchy leprechaun is fuming right now.”

“If you’re both our operations manager and fleet manager, then who’s going to be using the other two desks?” I asked curiously.

“They’re for our mechanic and our tactical liaison,” he explained.

“We get a mechanic?” I queried, my curiosity piqued.

“Lyra, I don’t think you fully grasp what we’re doing here. You guys aren’t going out individually—we’re convoying as a group. This is a team, Lyra. We’re heading into a part of the country that’s been deemed too dangerous, and we’re doing it as a fully decked-out unit,” Steve elaborated, his tone growing more serious.

“Oh…” I said quietly, the weight of the mission beginning to settle in.

I slowly began to understand what Zak meant when he said he needed an alpha with my skill set. I’d fought in the battle after the Second Twilight Winter, and now he needed an alpha who had combat experience and experience in the transportation industry. I glanced off to the side, narrowing my eyes as realization hit me.

“Damn it, Star… You set me up,” I grumbled under my breath.

“You say something?” Steve asked, noticing my muttered words.

“No… It’s not important. Hey, what’s that box-looking thing on the RGN next to us?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“Oh! You mean the FRS?” he asked.

“The what?” I demanded, curiosity returning.

“The forward repair system. It’s a big-ass toolbox. Our mechanic pulled some strings through her old Marine contacts and got it for us,” he explained.

“Our mechanic is a Marine?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Yep, and a phoenix,” he added casually.

Oh, this should be good. Maybe I’ve found someone who’s just as good at throwing wrenches as Star. The sound of several diesel engines interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to head towards the door. Walking out, I saw the rest of the group pulling into the fenced-off area. One by one, they parked their 579s near the new 589s and began to climb out.

Steve and I walked side by side toward the group, each of us with our own purpose—Steve with instructions, and me with the hope of making a solid first impression. I just hoped it went smoothly. The last thing we needed was someone challenging my authority. Then again… it would give me an easy out from being the alpha of this group. The thought crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. Zak had been adamant that I was the one he needed. Not someone else. Huffing quietly to myself, I resolved not to lose any challenge that might come my way.

“Afternoon, ladies and gents!” Steve called out, immediately commanding everyone’s attention.

Standing beside him, I took in the group before me—three females and six males—all of them staring at me, sizing me up. I could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on me. How in the world was I supposed to gain their trust? I hadn’t earned my spot as their alpha, and they didn’t know me from a hole in the wall.

Just then, Jake pushed through the group and walked up to me, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Alpha!” he exclaimed excitedly. “We finally made it!”

It suddenly dawned on me what exactly Jake was—he was an Omega. The heart and soul of a pack. Omegas didn’t have to obey the alpha if they didn’t want to; they were technically outside the usual pack rank structure, able to be either dominant or submissive as needed. How in the world had he managed to avoid being in a pack? Omegas were rare.

“Hey, Jake,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Did you see our new trucks? We’re getting Peterbilt 589s!” he continued, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I noticed. I just got here a few minutes ago, so I haven’t had a chance to check them out yet,” I replied, keeping my tone calm.

“Mmm-hmm,” Steve cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “Alpha, I have some important information I need to share.”

“Sorry, Steve,” Jake apologized quickly, stepping back to the edge of the group after I gave him a nod that said we’d talk later.

“Go ahead, Steve,” I said, turning my attention back to him.

“Alright, everyone, as you already know, we’ll be assisting with the upcoming advancement on the I-80 western corridor. Over the next two days, we’ll be conducting training to prepare everyone. I’ll also be issuing some gear, and our mechanic will be installing radios in your trucks,” Steve announced, his voice steady and authoritative.

I stood by, listening intently as he continued. I was so focused on his words that I didn’t hear someone step up beside me.

“This afternoon, you’ll have training on your new trucks, focusing on the differences compared to your old 579s. This evening, we’ll have dinner catered in, and after dinner, you’ll spend the evening moving into your new trucks,” Steve went on.

“Sounds like a busy night,” said a familiar voice beside me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, my instincts almost shifting me into my wolf form, ready to attack.

“Holy Luna, Gunny!” I blurted out, spinning to face him. He gave me a wicked smirk and winked.

“I still got it,” he said arrogantly.

Gunnery Master Sergeant Fischer was a gruff, bald-headed retired Marine with sun-kissed skin, standing around five-foot-eight. He was the head of the training department here and had personally trained me when I joined the company, helping me get my CDL. From day one, he knew I was a werewolf. I had a hunch my uncle had told him and asked him to keep an eye on me, but he never let on how he knew, nor did he ever tell me directly. Outside of Star, he was one of the only people I spoke to regularly, especially when it came to load securement—he was the expert.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I heard a few chuckles from the group behind me, and I turned, shooting them a glare. The laughter died instantly, and everyone, except for Jake, looked down at the ground or found something else to stare at. Jake, on the other hand, just beamed a bright smile at me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turned back to Gunny.

“I’m guessing you’re the one training us?” I asked, trying to steady my nerves.

“Damn skippy,” Gunny replied with his usual confidence.

“Alright, you sorry fluff balls!” he barked loudly, instantly commanding attention. “Now that I’ve got your undivided attention… We’re going to go over your new trucks.”

Without warning, Gunny pulled out an M9 Beretta and aimed it at my truck. My eyes widened in panic.

“Gunny, not my—!” I started to protest, but the sharp crack of the pistol cut me off. The round streaked toward my windshield and ricocheted off with a metallic ping. I slowly turned to face my mentor, rage simmering just beneath the surface, my eye twitching uncontrollably.

“THAT… IS… MY… PERSONAL… TRUCK… GUNNY!” I growled through clenched teeth, my eyes flaring with silver as anger coursed through me.

“I know, it’s bulletproof,” he replied casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

I blinked, my rage momentarily doused by his nonchalant statement. “It’s bulletproof?” I repeated, the surprise evident in my voice.

“Yep, all of your trucks are bulletproof,” he said, turning to address the group. “Jake, go hit the side of the sleeper with your fist.”

Jake followed the order, striking the side of my sleeper. The usual echoing thud I was accustomed to didn’t come. Instead, the impact was muffled, suggesting the sleeper was made of some very solid material.

“These trucks might look like standard production models, but they’re not. They’re armored to the teeth with a multi-layered alloy that includes depleted uranium, ceramic, and carbon-aluminum alloy plating. The armor will stop everything up to a thirty-millimeter round. The underside of your trucks has a V-shaped plate designed to deflect small to medium explosions, just in case you hit a minefield,” Gunny explained loudly, ensuring everyone understood the gravity of the situation.

He had everyone’s attention, even Steve’s. Gunny walked over to my truck, beckoning two more people to join him. We all followed, eager to see what he would reveal next.

“You two,” he barked, pointing at them with a knife hand. “Open the hood.”

One of them rolled their eyes as they unlatched my hood. The taller one reached up to grab the hood ornament. I crossed my arms and smirked, watching the scene unfold. Jake stepped up beside me, mimicking my stance. The male wolf leaned back and tried to open the hood by himself, but it didn’t budge. Jake snorted in amusement.

“Listen here, fluff nuts… If it only needed one wolf to open the hood, I would’ve only pointed at one of you. Now… each of you grab a fender and lift,” Gunny ordered.

Together, the two wolves heaved the heavy hood open, revealing the yellow monstrosity of an engine beneath it. I heard several members of the group suck in a breath, and a few whistled in awe.

“What we have here is the newest prototype Caterpillar Hydro Max power plant. Caterpillar graciously provided us with the first ten production models,” Gunny elaborated before pointing at another member of the group. “You, go open the fuel tank and tell me what you smell.”

The female he pointed at walked over to my fuel tank and opened it. She leaned down, took a quick whiff, and then stood up with a confused expression.

“It smells like… salt water,” she said, uncertainty in her voice.

“That’s correct. This beast, with the help of some very fancy tech from SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation, runs on water, not diesel,” Gunny stated with confidence.

The looks on everyone’s faces told me everything I needed to know—they weren’t thrilled. Diesel was in our veins; it was part of our identity as truckers. What was the point of driving if your truck wasn’t a high-powered diesel beast?

“Oh, don’t give me that look. These power plants will knock your dick into the dirt with the amount of torque and horsepower they put out. Lyra, you drove your truck here. What was your experience?” Gunny asked, turning to face me.

“Uh… I think I made the front steer tire leave the ground once or twice,” I admitted shamelessly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, grinning before turning back to the group. “Where you’re heading, there are no fuel stops, no diesel, no service stations, and no help if you run out of fuel. Water is your best resource for energy,” he explained.

For the next couple of hours, we followed Gunny as he pointed out the differences between the new trucks and the old 579s. He covered everything from the thicker, heavier frame to the ultra-heavy-duty air suspension and several other technical upgrades I hadn’t even considered.

The one thing he emphasized was the adaptive auto-inflation system and run-flat tires. Unless our trucks took a direct hit to a wheel, we shouldn’t have an issue with flats. Even so, each truck was equipped with not just one but two spare wheels and tires.

Once we had finished going over the trucks, Gunny moved on to discuss the trailers. They, too, had been reinforced—not for defense, but to handle the weight of the cargo we’d be hauling. I was surprised to learn that the MCV had filtration equipment on board, capable of filtering water for both our trucks and for us to drink. Gunny briefly mentioned the FRS (Forward Repair System) but said the mechanic would go over it in more detail if she chose to. Like our trucks, all of the trailers were equipped with the adaptive auto inflation system and run-flat tires.

As Steve had explained earlier, dinner arrived right on time. A company pickup truck rolled into the yard with several coolers in the back. I walked over to help unload, pulling out a couple of tables and setting them up with trays of Jethro’s BBQ and sides. Everyone in the group stood back, waiting expectantly while I stood by the table.

I knew exactly what they were waiting for—they were waiting for me, their alpha, to eat first. Tradition dictated it, but I wasn’t interested in playing by the old rules. Huffing, I rolled my eyes and glared at them.

“For Luna’s sake, get over here and make yourselves a plate,” I ordered, exasperated. No one moved.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I turned to Jake. “Come make a plate,” I said, my tone softening with frustration.

Jake gulped but obediently made his way over. I helped him put together a plate, making sure he got a little of everything.

“See? Now come on, I don’t bite,” I added sweetly.

One by one, the others slowly approached, and I served them. Their expressions suggested they thought I’d grown a second head. Traditionally, the alpha ate first, but I wasn’t a traditional alpha. Like Director Staroko, I was determined to lead differently. If these nine wolves, plus Steve, were going to be my pack, I wanted them to know I wasn’t above them. I gave each of them a smile as I served their food.

Once everyone had a plate, I looked around and saw them standing there, holding their plates but not eating. Closing my eyes in frustration, I dragged a hand down my face before picking up a slice of cornbread and taking a bite. I chewed quickly, swallowed, and then shot them all a flat stare.

“Eat,” I grumped.

Finally, they dug in. Thank Luna. This alpha nonsense was going to drive me nuts. After making my own plate, I ate in silence. Once everyone was finished, I helped pack everything up and carried it over to the MCV. With the food put away, I went to find Jake and saw him sitting in the driver’s seat of his new truck, admiring it.

“Ready to start moving?” I asked.

“Alpha, you really don’t have to help,” he started to argue.

“Jake… I want to help. You helped me, and I want to repay the favor,” I argued back.

He finally gave in, and together we worked to move his belongings from his old truck to his new one. Forty-five minutes later, he was all moved in. All he needed to do was organize his things. When we went to transfer his securement equipment, we discovered his new headache rack was already fully stocked with brand new gear. Lucky joker. He got all new stuff. It was fine, though—I had plenty of gear I’d collected over the years, things that made my job easier.

After we finished, I told Jake to go help another member of the group while I did the same. I made my way over to one of the females—a tall, athletic woman with chocolate skin and sharp hazel eyes. As she tried to climb out of her old cab with a duffle in hand, I approached and offered to take it from her.

She paused, eyeing me for a moment, as if assessing whether she should accept my help.

“What do you want?” she asked coldly, her sharp hazel eyes narrowing at me.

“To help,” I replied, offering a kind smile.

My response caught her off guard, and she eyed me suspiciously. “What alpha is willing to stoop to helping a lowly low rank like myself?” she grumbled, clearly not used to such treatment.

“I am,” I said simply, still holding out my hand. She blinked, her expression confused, before slowly handing me her duffle.

I carried it over to her new truck and gently placed it in her sleeper, then returned to help with more of her belongings. We worked in silence for a while, but halfway through, she finally spoke up.

“Alpha, why are you helping me?” she asked, curiosity lacing her voice. “Are you wanting something in return?”

“Nope,” I answered, hauling a tote full of clothes to her new truck. When I came back, I continued, “None of you know me outside of my reputation and connections. What you guys don’t know is, I was treated poorly by my first alpha, and I vowed that I would never take on the mantle of alpha.”

“Then why were you put in charge?” she asked, pausing in her task to look at me.

“Because Lord Lycotonu didn’t give me a choice,” I replied.

She stopped in her tracks and stared at me, clearly surprised. Before she could ask, I added, “Yes, I know Lord Lycotonu on a personal level.”

“Wow, you do have connections,” she murmured, her tone quieter now.

“Unfortunately…” I huffed. “Since I’m not being given the choice to be an alpha or not, I’m vowing that I will never treat my packmates like they’re beneath me. I may be the alpha, but I’m not better than any of you.”

She looked at me with a mix of surprise and admiration before offering me her hand. I took it, and we shook hands firmly.

“I’m Sasha Kendrick. It’s nice to finally meet you, Alpha Acosta,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

“You can just call me Lyra. There’s no need to be formal,” I replied politely.

She nodded, and we returned to our work. It didn’t take long to finish moving her stuff. By the time we were done, I noticed that Jake had rounded up the others who had finished their moves, and they were all helping each other. A spike of joy surged in my chest as I watched them working together. The sight of it made me feel a sense of pride that I hadn’t expected.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I spun around and saw Steve walking up.

“Hey, Steve,” I greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, Lyra. Wow, you guys are making quick work of the move,” he said, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” I replied, glancing back at the group, beaming with pride.

“I have the training itineraries ready for you for tomorrow,” he said, handing me a couple of sheets of paper.

“Oh, I figured you were in charge of getting us ready,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Oh no, that was just for today, to get everyone on track. You’re the alpha. I’m your beta. I’m here to assist you and provide you with our assignments. You are our leader,” he replied firmly.

“I should’ve seen that coming,” I huffed, shaking my head.

“To be honest with you, you’re doing great. A little unorthodox, but great. These wolves are all rogues because of what they experienced in their past. What we all need is someone who’s unorthodox,” he said with a smile before heading back to the MCV.

I stood there for a moment, absorbing his words while holding the papers in my hand. He had told me I was doing great. Something in my chest opened up—a feeling I couldn’t quite explain. As I turned back around, I saw that everyone had finished and was climbing into their trucks. For now, I’d give them some time. This was new for them, just as it was for me.

Walking over to my truck, I saw Jake wave at me before climbing into his own cab. I waved back and then climbed into mine. I spent the next hour organizing my belongings before closing the curtains and lying down in bed. The past twenty-four hours had been a roller coaster, and I just hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be too crazy. But knowing my luck, that probably wouldn’t be the case.