Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 36: Grace: Eight Hundred Miles

Lyre shifts in her seat, her slitted eyes observing our exchange with quiet interest. She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to persuade either of us. Her neutrality is refreshing after years of wolves who thought they knew what was best for me. Though I wonder what she’s thinking about behind her impassive face. We must sound crazy.

Andrew rubs his hand across his face, losing some of his aggressive denial. Instead, he’s pleading. "You have no idea how dangerous this is. You’re human, Grace."

I look to Lyre. "How far is Yellowstone from here?"

"About eight hundred miles," she says calmly, like we’re discussing the weather or something.

Eight hundred miles. Eight hundred miles between me and the Blue Mountain Pack. Between me and Rafe and Ellie. Between me and the murderous Lycan King.

"You can’t outrun them," Andrew insists. "Especially not the Lycan King. If he wants you—"

I roll my eyes. "Andrew, you brought me here under the assumption we could outrun him. Now you’re changing your story because I’m not going to do what you want. You can’t have it both ways."

"But—"

"He doesn’t care about me. Trust me." The memory of Caine’s gray eyes flashes through my mind—the intensity of his gaze as he wrapped the bandage around my wrist. But I push it away.

"You’re wrong. He—" Andrew stops himself, huffing something between a sigh and a groan.

"He...?"

Grimacing, Andrew shakes his head. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re making a mistake. This woman—" he gestures at Lyre, "—you don’t know her. You don’t know what she is."

Lyre’s lips quirk at that. "He’s not wrong about that."

I glance between them. Andrew’s obvious mistrust, Lyre’s casual acknowledgment.

"Are you something other than human?" I ask her directly.

tilts her head,

After everything I’ve been through

my life at the pack—the constant

doesn’t matter. As long as you’re not planning to hurt

"I have no interest in hurting you, Grace.

makes a strangled noise. "You can’t be serious. Grace, listen to

back, Andrew. Before they

leaving you

My voice hardens. "Because this is my choice.

of his body. His jaw works as if chewing on words he wants to

scoots out of the dinette, stretching her lithe body as she stands. "So when do you want

come out without my bidding, and I press my lips together, embarrassed. "I mean, if that works for you. I’m not in a position to make

her lips as she nods. "Now

through the cramped space with the fluid grace of someone who knows exactly where every inch of their body is. Her hands reach up to unhook a macramé plant hanger, carefully cradling the vine trailing from

to secure everything before driving," she explains, gently arranging the plant into what looks like a modified kitchen cupboard. "Otherwise it all becomes projectiles the

my forearm again, his fingers digging into the same spot he’d grabbed

even turn around, just continues methodically securing her plants. The calm in

falters but doesn’t release. His breath comes faster beside me, and I can feel his indecision. It isn’t fear, but he seems worried. Probably thinks if

cabinet, her movements unhurried. "The decision’s been made. Either you get out, or I’ll kick you

rumbling from Andrew’s chest is pure animal—a sound I’ve heard countless times in six years. My heart thunders in my chest, but I refuse to cower. I’ve

of the dinette, I shake my arm violently until he finally

a moment, I think Andrew might lunge at me—his body tenses, his

and rough. "Hopefully you’ll be a little

fly up. "Am I

have no idea

even Alpha and Beta fell under the might of

he’s physically restraining himself from shifting. Huffing and snarling under his breath, he finally stomps toward the