Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 64: Grace: My Fault

Lyre keeps pulling out her phone and frowning. At first, I thought it was her way of avoiding more conversation about my parents and my identity.

Turns out I was wrong. Lyre’s shameless enough to refuse to answer questions outright, without excuses. Remembering her past frustration over not being able to give me clear answers, I’m starting to wonder if maybe...

I don’t know. It’s weird.

Maybe she really can’t tell me some things. She’s said as much, so it isn’t too far-fetched of an idea, but it seems like there’s something keeping her from spilling everything she knows.

Lyre’s phone gives another annoying ding. She scoffs, glaring at the screen before shoving it into her pocket with more force than necessary.

"Something wrong?"

She waves a dismissive hand through the air. "Your boyfriend’s headed out to greet the local alpha."

"He’s not my—" The denial sticks in my throat again, because... well. Then my mind catches up with the rest of her sentence. "Wait, what?"

"Your Lycan King has deigned to socialize with the local pack. Progress, I suppose."

My stomach drops. The image of Caine splattered with blood and surrounded by bodies flashes through my mind. "Is he going to kill everyone here too?"

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how blunt—and ridiculous—they sound. But Lyre doesn’t seem offended. Instead, her catlike eyes narrow and she tilts her head back, looking at me as if I’m some strange specimen on display at a museum.

"What makes you think he’s going to kill anyone?"

"I mean..." Sure, Caine hasn’t exactly been super murderous around me since then. Especially when things got steamy between us. But the memory of that night is going to be branded in my brain forever. The snarls. The screams. The wet, meaty sounds of violence I tried so hard not to hear.

ultimately, he’s still... who he is. I’m still wrapping my

my pack." Wait. Now it sounds

yawning widely. Her slightly sharp teeth glint in the light.

answer comes without hesitation or thought. No consideration, no moment of reflection. It’s hard to shake

her throat. "Okay. And what does that make

My shoulders slump as I groan, "Shameless. I’m pretty sure

another." She taps a finger against her lips

to respond, then close it. The simple, terrible truth is that there’s no good answer

as I admit it. "When he touches me, I can’t

for the

"What do you mean?"

work ahead of him, that’s all. And he

awkwardly, still overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment. Once I accepted her premise—Caine and I being fated—some of her earlier comments made a lot of sense, too. The ones about

was in front of my face. Now, I know exactly what she meant when she asked me that question. It’s enough

me something, Grace. Why did

"I don’t know."

slitted eyes narrow as she leans forward. "Really? Do you really not know? Or are you just not wanting to think

fingers twist in the thin

"I—"

to sidestep keep rushing forward. Caine’s face. His hand on my neck. The weight of his dominance crushing the room. Fenris, appearing out of nowhere. The way Caine was furious every time Alpha... no,

preceded the slaughter. The words.

must have already known then

Lyre with crushing melancholy. "He did it because of me," I whisper, the realization unfurling like a poisonous flower in my chest.

"What?"