Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 37

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.

head, catlike. "Does

me pause. Does it? After everything I’ve been through with wolves, should I fear other supernatural

think of my life at the pack—the constant reminders of

doesn’t matter. As long as you’re

sharp. "I have

can’t be serious. Grace, listen to

back, Andrew. Before

not leaving

this is my choice. Not yours, not

evident in every line of his body. His jaw works as if chewing on words he wants to spit

her lithe body as she stands. "So when do you want to leave? I’m

be best." The words come out without my bidding, and I press my lips together, embarrassed.

as she nods. "Now works. Just

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

she explains, gently arranging the plant into what looks like a modified kitchen cupboard. "Otherwise it all becomes projectiles the first time

my forearm again, his fingers digging into the same spot he’d grabbed earlier. The pressure

it." Lyre doesn’t even turn around,

faster beside me, and I can feel his indecision. It isn’t fear, but he seems worried. Probably

cabinet, her movements unhurried. "The decision’s

heard countless times in six years. My heart thunders in my chest,

violently until he finally lets it go. "Let me help

me—his body tenses, his face contorting. But the moment passes. He stands, shoulders tight

says, voice low and

brows fly up. "Am I not

"You have no idea

Beta fell under the might

heavier, more labored, like he’s physically restraining himself from

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