Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 118: Lyre: Maybe I Need to Blow Him

LYRE

I’m slouched in the only chair in this depressing motel room that doesn’t look ready to collapse, scrolling through my Divinity App while Jack-Eye makes significantly more noise in the shower than any one person should. The constant drumming of water hitting tile makes a surprisingly tolerable white noise—not that I’d ever admit it. There’s something satisfying about the rhythmic sound of someone else cleaning off the day’s grime that doesn’t involve me lifting a finger.

I have another direct message. Third one today. People are far too interested in what I’m doing, which means every step I take is going to be analyzed for Balance, damn it.

[CHAOS: Feels like the old times, doesn’t it, Witchlet?]

I snort. He’s been unusually talkative lately, which never bodes well. When Chaos gets chatty, worlds tend to crumble. Or at least have very bad days.

My thumb pauses over a new notification, pulsing red at the top of my screen.

[PLAUSIBILITY WARNING: EXCESSIVE INTERFERENCE IN REGION 23-BETA. FINAL STRIKE.]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not this again.

Excessive interference detected in Region 23-BETA. Current manipulations have exceeded Plausibility Threshold by 417%.

Timeline strain now approaching rupture tolerance.

You are hereby issued a FINAL WARNING for deviation from ordained narrative progression.

Further unsanctioned alterations may trigger Purge Protocol: Soft Reset.

—Divinity Connect Oversight Engine, Axis Protocols Enforcement Division

"Yes, yes, I know," I mutter, thumbing the warning closed with more force than necessary. "Balance can suck my—"

staring

known we’d be racing against divine bureaucracy, I would’ve handled this differently, made sure I was alone. I could track down our target myself and be done with this in hours, and the hit probably would have been less without

if I do as I want, I’ll trigger

something

alterations... Grace might wake up with no idea how she got into a camper with a man she considered a murderer

handle paradox

magical container with all the power of a dying flashlight. He’s barely at five percent

stops. The

gave us three

need to blow

"Wh—what?"

wizard. He’s down to fumes, and I need more from him. I’d rather not lose him

stretches long enough that I

low on his hips it’s practically performing a disappearing act.

finally mumbles, his

twice. "Why

"I, uh... forgot

eyes follow his vague gesture to the nearest mattress—the one I’ve already claimed,

"That’s my bed."

one. The

stare at him, completely unmoved. This is the feared Lycan Beta? Seven centuries of watching men fumble through excuses, and they never get any better at it.

he doesn’t move. Instead, he does something so predictable I almost laugh: he positions himself closer, one hand gripping the back of my chair as he leans down slightly. Water drips from his hair onto the screen of my

if you have needs, you don’t have to use

dominating alpha, but his tone is hesitant

artifact. "And who else here