Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 20

Chapter 19: Grace: Aftermath

The rest of the morning passes without incident.

Or food.

My stomach growls. The clock on the wall ticks past noon, and each second is another twist of my belly. It’s been over a day since I’ve eaten, but at least I have free access to water now.

Small mercies.

But I can’t stay in this room forever, can I?

My fingers tap against my lower lip as I stare at the door. It’s a standard wood-grain door, probably hollow, with a simple knob. Nothing extravagant or strange, and yet my heart stutters at the thought of what lies beyond it.

Life isn’t the same anymore. Alpha’s dead, and I’ve lost all protection. What do Lycans do with humans? Alpha never let me see them before, saying it was dangerous. It’s clear that’s one thing he didn’t lie about. Honestly, the fact I’m even alive when so many are dead...

"This is ridiculous." My voice is soft in the silence, but speaking at all seems to build my courage to push off the bed and ignore how my legs shake as I take one step, then another.

The brass doorknob is cool under my palm. I curl my fingers around it, but my grip trembles.

My stomach growls again, loud enough to echo off the walls. The sound startles me out of my frozen state, and I open the door. Just a tiny inch of space, not really enough to peek through.

I press my ear to the gap but hear only silence. No footsteps. No voices. No breathing.

my palm. I peek through the crack, scanning the hallway beyond. Carpeted floor.

face carved from granite. The Lycan’s lip curls, revealing the edge of a fang, and I swear I can hear a growl rumbling my

the door shut and scurry back to my

Dangerous. That was dangerous.

to see me. I’m definitely a prisoner, not that I had much doubt over the situation. I

rub them hard, wishing I was braver. Stronger. A lot sneakier, too. It would be nice if I could just disappear. In fact, if that damn

Stupid, oversized, disloyal dog.

the door and I jump as

eyes flicker to the bed in a moment so brief, I’m not sure I actually

my fate, "You will come with

follow me. No information on where I’m going, or why. Just a flat order, with

throat closes up, making it hard to breathe. After witnessing what happened to my former pack, the last

Harper." Steel threads through his

* * *

Everything’s different.

has been scrubbed clean, all the decorations gone. Days of preparation have disappeared overnight and no hint of the bloodbath remains. Vaguely, I recall a pile of stuff from my window. It didn’t seem very important while a pile of dead bodies took center stage, but it

here. Pack members shuffle past with downcast eyes, their shoulders slumped. No greetings exchanged, no morning pleasantries—just the soft scuffle of footsteps

that’s exactly how they’re acting. I wonder what our fate is now. I’ve heard stories about the Lycan King, to some extent, but not enough to give me any information. Do packs like this

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