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.

body yearns for him, and he might be my fated mate for some strange reason, but ultimately, he’s

Now it sounds like

glint in the light. "Tell

My answer comes without hesitation or thought. No consideration, no moment of reflection.

And what does that make you? The girl who let

as I groan, "Shameless. I’m pretty

"If there is a hell, we’re all headed there for one reason or another." She taps a finger against her lips as she snickers, de-escalating her amusement. "Though I have to wonder—if you believe he’s a cold-blooded killer,

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

as I admit

Lyre chuckles. "My sympathy for the wolf is rising once

"What do you mean?"

him, that’s all. And he doesn’t seem emotionally intelligent enough to navigate the maze in your

tip of my nose 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

see what was in front of my face. Now, I know exactly what she meant when she asked

me something, Grace. Why did the Lycan King kill

"I don’t know."

Do you really not know? Or are you just not wanting to think about

in the thin

"I—"

keep rushing forward. Caine’s face. His hand on my neck. The weight of his dominance crushing the

my eyes, forcing myself to remember the conversation that preceded the slaughter. The words. The tone. The subtle shifts in body language I’d noticed but

must have already known then what I

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

"What?"