Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 111

Chapter 110: Grace: Being Watched

I pull my phone from my pocket, hands shaking slightly as I find Lyre’s number. It rings once, twice, three times. My heart sinks with each unanswered tone. What if she doesn’t pick up? What if something’s happened to her? What if—

"Grace?" Lyre’s voice fills my ear, sounding slightly breathless. "I was just thinking about you."

Relief floods through me. "Lyre, thank the Goddess. We have a problem."

"When don’t we?" she says, but the sarcasm sounds strained. "What’s happening?"

"We’re at the camper, but the kids can’t get in. There’s some kind of... barrier keeping them out."

"Oh, that." Lyre sounds utterly untroubled. "Access ward. Safety feature. Got tired of jackasses breaking in whenever I park somewhere remote. It’ll disengage once you hitch it to the truck. Don’t worry about it."

"Don’t worry—" I bite back the rest of my sentence, too aware of little ears. "Fine. Thanks."

"You good otherwise?" she asks, suddenly sharper.

I hesitate, not wanting to voice the creeping dread slithering up my spine. "Yeah. We’re fine."

"Hmm." She doesn’t sound convinced. "Call if you need anything else. I mean it."

I hang up and turn to the kids. "Slight change of plans. The door won’t open until we hook the camper to the truck."

"But I need to pee!" Jer wails.

"Go in the trees," Sara says, pointing.

"I’m not peeing in the trees! There could be bears!"

"There are definitely bears," Ron says, deadpan.

Jer’s eyes widen in horror.

"Enough," Caine’s voice cuts through the bickering. The kids fall silent immediately. Even Bun stares at him with her huge, solemn eyes. "Everyone back in the truck. Lock the doors. I’ll help Grace prepare the camper."

should all stay in the truck," I say

eyes narrow. "You

it. It’s not

I’ll help make

my head. "Ever pack up an

"No."

in the way. Stay with the kids. I’ll

back to the truck. I exhale shakily, relieved to have space to work

shoved into nearby cabinets. Certain pieces of furniture are moved together to keep them from

are no dirty dishes in the

keep prickling, so I forego the extra step. The gray tanks are next. A little water and some black tank treatment and they’re all ready

in, and the camper’s ready—on the

triangular blocks from the wheels, which

about forty-five minutes. I’m sure Jer’s about ready to burst, and I’m only about half certain I did everything

feeling of being watched

Nothing moves except leaves stirring

I whisper

loud in the

campground bathroom, and I’m about to burst with anxiety. Thankfully, the sheer terror over what ifs somehow meanders down the

have been

me is now complete.

I break her trailer, I really hope she doesn’t make get too mad, but other than that little

it all. By

now

feeling. Instead, I sprint back toward the truck, suddenly desperate not

moves in the trees behind me—a flash of shadow, a rustle

whirling around, my heart in my

Just sun-dappled foliage and the gentle

I whisper. "Just

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