Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 32: Grace: One Last Visitor

Caine’s strange behavior takes more mental real estate than it should, but I manage to finish my dinner with him gone. Eating under pressure is a lot harder than I ever expected.

With a full stomach and nothing else to do, I curl up on the bed. My eyelids grow heavy despite lingering anxiety; will Andrew really come? Is this plan going to work? Will I be okay once I get to Sterling City? So many questions, all impossible to answer without more time.

Eventually, the soft mattress beckons me into sleep, a temporary escape from this bizarre reality.

A rough shaking wrenches me out of deep sleep, and my foggy mind registers someone’s hand on my shoulder.

"Grace, wake up."

I sit up with a yawn, stretching my arms above my head until my joints pop. The motion helps clear some of the cobwebs from my brain, but when my vision focuses, my body freezes mid-stretch, hands locked high in the air. "Rafe?"

It’s not Andrew’s face hovering in front of me, but Raphael’s. His blue eyes shine so brightly, my stomach flips. Not with cute butterflies, but in dread. His gaze is too intense, almost fanatical.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss, scrambling backward until I hit the wall. The distance between us isn’t nearly enough.

Rafe’s pine-and-earth scent, once thrilling and now rather generic, fills my nostrils, bringing unwelcome memories. His golden hair catches the light from the bedside lamp, creating a halo effect that seems laughably inappropriate given our recent past. How can someone so cruel look so much like someone’s fantasy of a hero?

"I needed to see you before you leave for Forest Springs." He sits on the edge of my bed like he belongs there, reaching for my hand. "Andrew will be here soon."

I almost blurt out that Forest Springs is the last place I’d willingly go, but snap my mouth shut. He doesn’t know about the change in plans; it’s strange, but I’m not complaining about it. It’s better this way.

Though, there’s always the possibility Andrew lied just to appease me. I guess I’ll find out soon.

"Why would you need to see me?" I ask instead, pulling my knees to my chest and keeping my hands out of his reach.

His expression darkens as he takes his hand back, his brows drawing together. "Of course it’s because I care about you, Gracie. I haven’t been able to see you since they murdered our people. I was worried."

The audacity makes my jaw clench. His hands gesture between us as he continues.

but I’m fixing it. You’ll see, Grace." He leans closer, earnestness radiating from him like heat. If my IQ was single digits, maybe I’d even believe in it. "Ellie understands now. And soon, the Blue Mountain Pack will

word once meant something—safety, acceptance, belonging. Now it’s just four empty letters. This pack is not my home, and he’s one

impassive through his passionate speech. His hands reach for me again, but I duck away from his

my voice flat. "Before you ruin

his head. "Don’t worry, Grace. Everything’s fine. I have a little time. I just needed

us feels charged with something toxic—his delusional hope

"Rafe, please—"

neck. The touch sends

you’re staying true to me," he says with a strange, overly soft smile. "Refusing

A laugh bursts from my throat, sharp and incredulous. His delusions are only growing, becoming more ridiculous. Maybe it’s

my reaction, but he must misinterpret it, because he steps forward, arms opening for an embrace as his head swoops closer, lips pursed for a

over my own feet. Now I’m between him and the door, which is not where I want to be. It’ll be

across his features before

No.

no,

crazy," I say, grasping for any excuse which might penetrate his

shoulders slump as he glances at me, his eyes wide and pathetic. It’s his puppy dog face. I used

Now, it’s childish.

second, but I try not to flinch. He’s doing what I want him to; I don’t

he says, as if he’s wanting me to argue and beg him

through me as he pauses only for a second before moving toward the door. His hand rests on the doorknob, but he turns back,

Grace." The words fall from his lips with weighty significance, as if he’s delivering a romantic vow rather than an

my bathroom. When I finally look back, the

Thank. Fucking. God.

and the way he treated me the moment his fated mate appeared? Such thick skin he

shifters are

my palms against my eyes until random shapes and colors bloom behind my eyelids. Rafe’s visit has left

seems to emphasize the dark circles under my eyes, but at least the water helps clear my