Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 103: Jack-Eye: Hooked

JACK-EYE

My left leg cramps for the fifth time in an hour. Fuck compact SUVs and their contempt for anyone over six feet tall. I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t feel like my knees are pressed against my throat, but there’s no relief to be found in this rolling sardine can.

Dawn’s coming, with weak pink and gold fingers creeping across the lightening sky.

And we’re still on the highway.

No known destination, being driven by someone more likely to turn us into amphibians than answer questions.

We’ve been driving all night, and the mood in the car has settled from the aftermath of rage and deep sorrow into something fragile. Like if we breathe wrong, we might remember everything all over again.

In the back seat, the Blue Mountain kid’s snoring with his head pressed against the window. The sniveling wizard is asleep against his shoulder, twitching occasionally. Once he flinched so hard, his glasses flew off his face. It still didn’t wake him up, even when Owen shoved them back on.

The strange guy—an angel, or something related to one... apparently—has been awake this entire time, like he’s used to forgoing sleep for missions.

And then there’s Lyre.

One arm drapes across the steering wheel with casual confidence, the other resting against her door. Like she could drive this road with her eyes closed.

She hasn’t spoken in hours, but her lips have gone from a tight line to slightly pursed, and her eyes no longer crinkle at the corners, more relaxed as she stares ahead. There’s still the hint of simmering rage burning the air around her, but at least I’m reasonably sure she won’t set the car on fire.

I catch it again—a faint shimmer across her knuckles. A subtle glow pulsing beneath her skin when she thinks no one’s looking.

powerful. Shifters aren’t exposed to her kind of magic, but even I can recognize it’s greater than anything I’ve seen before. And it’s barely contained by a slip of a

the SUV gliding smoothly off the

ask, rolling my shoulders to work out

voice is flat. End of

Damn it.

desperate rush to the bathroom—both to rinse out his vomit-stale mouth and to use the more traditional facilities—we haven’t gotten a break from this damn tin can on wheels. She’s a woman on

peril if you look at

of her jaw, the slight upturn of her nose. Everything about her

The question’s been eating at me for a while now, only stronger after I watched her walk out of that place, hands clean but eyes haunted. "I’ve seen

able to throw Caine around like she does, that’s for fucking sure. There’s a reason he

open, landing on Lyre with an unsettling intensity. "She’s..." His voice drops to a reverent whisper. "She’s beyond powerful.

than usual,

eyes flick to the rearview mirror, then back to the road. The silence

shit I’d call Caine out on in a heartbeat. But with her, I’m...

freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. I hadn’t noticed them before, when we were knee-deep in blood and crisis. They’re

confidence, a bone-deep certainty that she belongs exactly where she is. Even when she’s

be real, I noticed her curves the moment we met. I’m not dead. But this feeling crawling up my spine isn’t just attraction. It’s different. Thrilling. Staring at a beautiful predator and wondering if it

taking her eyes off the road. Her tone is dry as dust, and I wonder if it would change if I told her I wanted to tear her clothes off

demanding more of my cock?

lift and aim for an answer less... explosive. "Trying to figure

clean between us. "You wouldn’t even know where

seat, Owen clears his throat. "It’s better not to meddle with the likes of an Echo Witch." He sounds reverent, but the kind of reverence where you’re scared you’ll be turned into ash for