Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia
Chapter 118
Chapter 117: Caine: Interference
CAINE
The greasy paper bag of fast food slides across the seat as I turn onto the highway, releasing a cloud of salt, grease, and artificial flavors that fills the cab. I’ve already wolfed down my own burger—pun not intended.
Fast food isn’t really just for the children. It’s the secret vice of the Lycan King. Fenris can inhale his weight in burgers, if he really wanted to.
Bring me some, he insists, intruding on my thoughts. He must have dialed in when I was eating mine.
I already ordered you two. And that’s all you get.
Good enough.
My hand brushes the seat where Grace sat earlier, sending up a puff of blueberry and the faint hint of cave. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to notice the difference. Like a muscle unknotting after days of strain.
I need more of her scent.
Mental note: have Grace sleep in my clothes. Then I’ll wear them after. Pathetic, maybe, but my bond won’t be denied its due.
The small white bag from the bakery counter sits separate from the rest—a single blueberry muffin. The irony isn’t lost on me. Grace smells like the damn things, and now I’m bringing her one like some kind of offering. As if I’m trying to feed her what she already is.
But I can’t help it. Every time I see one, I think of her.
Outside, the sky isn’t right, leaning further into the scale of strange. The green-gray has deepened to something that reminds me of a fresh bruise—purpling at the edges, sickly yellow where light struggles through. The clouds aren’t just moving; they’re churning, boiling against each other like living things fighting for territory.
The shadows on the road stretch wrong. Too long for this time of day. Too dark. And they move—not with the clouds passing over the sun, but with a life of their own.
Driving is a white-knuckle affair, or would be if I was human.
I pass several erratic drivers in the two minutes it takes to reach the
My radio clicks on.
volume dial shows zero, but static hisses from the speakers. White noise rises and falls with
and the whole vehicle shudders, my back end skidding slightly
My wipers are already on high, but they’re
rain’s too...
with a click, then off. Then on again. I didn’t touch
empty and back. The temperature gauge spins in a complete circle, and the clock scrambles
to a pathetic twenty
cuts through the
my composure is starting
shoulder. Hazard lights blink in erratic patterns, out of sync with each other. None of the steady, even rhythm they should have. It’s
sudden pressure, and the truck stutters
as the engine cuts out completely. The truck rolls to a stop,
I turn the key.
Click. Click.
Nothing.
It’s dead.
rain, yelling across the noise at each other. Others just stare upward, arms limp at their
full assault, like someone flipped a cosmic tap to maximum. It hammers the roof so
humans dash back
I reach for Fenris.
What’s happening there?
mind. The she-dog keeps pacing near the camper.
Grace and the kids—are they
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