Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 77: Caine: Unnatural Silence (I)

CAINE

I stalk through the banquet hall, my vision tinged with crimson rage. The Fiddleback wolves cower against the floor tiles, submission rippling through their bodies as my dominance rolls over them. But I don’t care about their fear.

I need answers.

"Halloway!" My roar shakes the crystal chandeliers. "Face me, you coward!"

Jack-Eye’s voice cuts through the mess in my head. Hospital says there’s no patient registered under Grace’s name. No blonde human female admitted in the last 48 hours. She’s gone.

The world stops.

Everything narrows to a pinpoint of blinding rage. My chest constricts. My skin burns.

Grace. My Grace. Gone.

Where is she?

"Halloway!"

Movement flickers at the edge of my vision. The wolves on the floor—supposedly flattened by my dominance—spring to their feet with impossible speed. Eyes gleam with malice, not fear.

Chaos erupts.

Bodies twist and contort. Bones snap and reform at unnatural speed—alpha speed, and yet too many. Their shifts should take longer. They don’t.

I barely dodge the first attack, and claws graze my shoulder. The wound burns like silver, hindering my natural healing.

As expected, something’s deeply wrong with this pack.

Fenris appears beside me, a colossus of midnight fur and crackling blue energy. This was a trap.

The blessings of the Lycan Throne are manifold; my tattoos allow Fenris a body of his own, but they also give me control of mine.

Lycan. Wolf and human. I can use either form at will.

Where Fenris is black, I am white. Where he glows blue, I glow

gods.

let the shift take me, welcome the split of bone,

throat. I catch him midair, claws ripping through his

and I

underbelly, disemboweling one. The others hit Fenris; he snaps a spine in his jaws and crushes another

he keeps this up, he’ll burn out before we get through

to get through this,

Ten. Twenty. Too

tidal wave of power capable of stopping a heart. It slides off them

voice eerily calm in the

Pain lances up my leg. I grab her by the scruff and slam her into the marble floor. Her skull cracks,

back

to the hospital, I snap. Find

I can’t leave you—

rarely touch him with dominance, but there’s no time for hesitation. Grace is in

vanishes

clear his path, Fenris snarls, leaping over the pack. He crushes wolves like

markings circles me, too calm. I feint right, then drive forward. He pivots fast—but not fast enough. My jaws close around his throat. He

More come.

splinters. But the wolf doesn’t scream. Doesn’t flinch. His teeth stay buried

feel it? I

Indeed.

are no yelps. No howls of pain. Only the mechanical rhythm of violence: bone cracking, flesh tearing,

don’t fight like wolves. They fight like machines. Like puppets with

fur crimson. My wounds throb, but adrenaline overrides pain. How many left? I demand;

Less than half.

four wolves drags me down, their jaws locked

thrash. A russet she-wolf gnaws into my shoulder. Her teeth grind into my bones, and she

mountain of snarling fur with wolves

He barrels toward me.

one sweep of his paw, he flings the wolves off me. One slams into

breath is