Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 78: Caine: Unnatural Silence (II)

CAINE

Bodies lie scattered around us, some moving, most still.

Fenris, sensing my intention, shrinks himself down to a less imposing size—though still massive by any normal wolf standard. The blue glow around him dims to a gentle aura as he pants, surveying our carnage with grim satisfaction.

I let my shift reverse, bones cracking back into human form. Changing when wounded is never recommended, as it can make everything worse. Pain radiates through my body as wounds reshape themselves. My vision clears from wolf to human.

A Fiddleback nearby twitches, trying to crawl away. I stride toward it, naked and bloodied but unconcerned with such trivial matters. My foot connects with its ribs—not hard enough to break, just enough to turn it over.

"Shift." The word carries only a whisper of my dominance, but it’s enough.

The wolf’s body contorts, bones reshaping at an agonizingly slow pace. This time, the transformation happens as it should—not the unnatural speed from before. Paws elongate into fingers. Fur recedes into skin. Muzzle shortens to a human face.

A woman. Mid-fifties perhaps. Thin face, sharp features. Recognition flickers—Halloway introduced her earlier. Something about treasury management. I didn’t bother committing her name to memory. It was unimportant then, and only mildly useful now.

I place my bare foot against her throat, not pressing down—yet. "Where’s Halloway?"

Her eyes dart wildly around the room. Blood trickles from a cut above her brow. Her arm’s flopped at an unnatural angle and her breath comes in short, desperate gasps.

"I—I don’t know—"

My foot presses down slightly, cutting off her words. "Try again."

Fear sharpens in her eyes. "I don’t—"

My voice remains level, but the pressure on her throat increases. "I don’t have time for your lies."

She swallows hard against my foot. "He’s... he’s looking for your Luna."

My spine turns to ice. "What do you mean?"

The woman coughs, her windpipe constricting beneath my foot. I ease the pressure—just enough to let her speak. Death would be too merciful for what I need now.

probably from the shift I forced

"Escaped?

dart sideways, avoiding

just enough to

chokes out.

Grace

be there soon. We will know

little to soothe the worry and

were you stupid enough to think you could go against the Lycan

beatific smile crosses her face, her eyes glazing as she croons, "None can escape the Great One." Her voice strengthens despite her broken body. "Her powers eclipse that of even

fear—I don’t fear gods, or monsters. But it’s never

narrow my eyes. "Who is your

though the sound immediately turns

around the decimated hall. Bodies lie scattered across marble floors. Blood paints abstract patterns across white tablecloths. This is the Fiddleback Pack—or what remains

One now?" I grab her chin, forcing her to look

back in a bloody grin. "She is

a groan. Not just from the woman beneath me, but from every living body scattered across the floor. The fallen wolves arch their backs, spines cracking

they emit defies description, a chorus

to block the sound; it

her back arching like the others. Her scream joins the unholy

a buffer against the

wolves

back, watching as decades melt away her flesh in seconds. Skin pulls tight across her cheekbones, then desiccates, cracking like ancient parchment. Her eyes sink

a middle-aged

the wolves shrivel beneath their

The screaming stops.

somehow louder than

sniffing

magic like this. Never felt it. Where’s Thom? I scan the room, but he’s nowhere to