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."

all stay in the truck,"

"You can’t

it. It’s not that

I’ll help

head. "Ever pack up an RV

"No."

you’ll be in the way. Stay with the kids. I’ll do

I exhale shakily, relieved to have space to work without his looming presence

cabinets. Certain pieces of furniture are moved together to keep them from moving around with any bouncing movement

making sure there are no dirty dishes

quick press of a button dumps the black tank. Lyre likes to rinse it out a few times, but my shoulders keep prickling, so I forego the extra step. The gray tanks are next. A

in, and the

the gross sewer hoses. Use about half a bottle of sanitizer, even though I used gloves. Pull strange triangular blocks from the wheels, which are supposed to keep them from moving. Once it’s ready, I rap on

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

comes in shallow puffs, the feeling

scanning the trees again. Nothing moves except leaves

I whisper to

whirr seems obscenely loud in the quietness of the forest. Sweat trickles down my back despite the

about to burst with anxiety. Thankfully, the sheer terror over what ifs somehow meanders down the idea of horrible disasters, and horrible disasters reminds

would have

me is now complete.

hope she doesn’t make get too mad, but other

it all. By

trailer’s now

sprint back toward the truck, suddenly desperate not to

the door handle, something moves in the trees behind

whirling around, my heart in my

the gentle sway of

whisper. "Just the

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