Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 110

Chapter 109: Grace: At the Campground

"This is it," I say, pointing through the windshield as we pull into the campsite. Lyre’s fifth-wheel camper sits right where we left it, nestled against the backdrop of beautiful woods.

When we pulled in the first time, it looked beautiful and free.

Today, it looks... ominous.

Perspective is everything, I guess.

"Is something wrong?" Caine asks, his voice rumbling through the truck. The kids are all quiet, even Bun. They understand danger in ways no child should.

I shake my head, but the skin at the nape of my neck prickles. "It looks fine."

But it doesn’t feel fine.

The camper sits undisturbed. No broken windows. No kicked-in door. Not a single sign of intrusion. And yet... something heavy hangs in the air. A pressure against my chest. A whisper just beyond hearing. My fingers twist into the fabric of my jeans.

"Let’s get the kids inside," Caine says, steel-eyed as he scans the tree line. He’s felt it too. Or he’s just naturally suspicious.

"Finally!" Jer mumbles, unbuckling himself from the middle seat and following me out the door. "I have to pee so bad my eyeballs are floating."

Okay, maybe they aren’t as freaked out as I thought they were.

"Gross," Sara mutters as she slides out of the back. Her red eyes dart toward the camper with undisguised relief; she’s definitely more tense than the younger boy.

Ron, of course, is as teenage-stoic as ever as he grabs Bun and hops down.

"Careful, guys. Stay close."

"We know," Sara and Jer chorus. They’re already beelining for the camper door.

Jer reaches it first, yanking the handle.

Nothing happens.

he whines, dancing from foot to

my pocket for

hand him the key, watching him slide it into the lock

The door remains

braid swinging as she grabs the handle and rattles it with surprising force for a

Ron suggests, shifting

this is

try." Ron steps forward, adjusting Bun

handle, yanking with more strength than either of the younger kids could muster.

toward the door. Before I can stop her, she starts banging her tiny fists against

honey, that’s not going to—" I start, but the look on her face stops me. It’s cute, with her giant eyes

Keep

spine, and I glance around. No one’s outside,

Not right.

out of my way," I order the kids, who all

his body a wall of heat at my back. The prickling sensation isn’t unpleasant—it’s almost grounding compared to the creeping unease trailing me

step forward, suddenly self-conscious with everyone watching. I grip the key tight, my knuckles turning

under my palm, and the

sound casual while my heartbeat

space of Lyre’s camper greeting me—cozy bohemian fabrics, the faint smell of incense, colorful glass bottles

been, like, two

are all overly dramatized because of the dread.

I’ve become paranoid.

bathroom first," I say,

He stands frozen at

"I can’t," he says.

can’t? The bathroom’s right there." I point toward the back of the camper. There are actually two of them, but I

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