Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 171: Grace: Not Paranoia

The phone in my back pocket chimes with a notification. I wipe peanut butter off my fingers, and Jer snatches the PB&J with a quick, "Thanks!" tossed over his shoulder.

For whatever reason, he and Sara are in some sort of competition, where they’re counting white cars (Sara) and red cars (Jer). They also yell out when they see tow trucks pass—as if rubbing salt into the wound of our long wait.

Caine and Andrew are outside with the dog, probably still staring at the tire they can’t fix.

Whatever keeps them happy, I guess.

Since Bun’s napping on Ron’s lap and my hands are once again free, I check the phone, expecting to see another Divinity Connect message.

Instead, I see Lyre’s name.

[LYRE: Owen’s place was burned down. Good thing you got out.]

I gasp. Burned down?!

Ron glances up from where he’s been playing with Bun’s feet as she sleeps. "Everything okay?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah. Everything’s fine." I’m already lying to children. I’m a terrible mother. "I’ll be right back. I need to call Lyre."

"Okay," Jer and Sara chorus.

My hands shake as I duck into Lyre’s bedroom and shut the door. This isn’t a conversation to have over texts.

The phone rings over and over, until finally it clicks.

Before she can even say hello, I demand, "What do you mean, burned down?"

There’s shouting, then a sound like glass breaking. Suddenly,

fire makes everything into ash." Her voice is

for

to pick up Owen’s car, and found the aftermath. They got his car, too. The rest of

remember the cave was somehow connected to a

"And the cave?"

"It’s... fine."

telling the truth, though, and my suspicion

Where did you stop

staring at my reflection in the mirror. Blonde hair I’m finally used to. Dark circles under my eyes.

snot. Not mine,

as frazzled as

sounded like it would be easy in the first

far... hah.

occasionally distracted by random spurts of noise on

silence after telling

to follow you everywhere, doesn’t it?" she drawls. "Try to stay safe, at least. Let me know if you need money, I’ll add more on the card I gave you. Tires aren’t

might be considered pride bristle. It’s good to know I have some somewhere, though. "I can’t keep taking your

footing the bill. So what little pride I’ve managed to accrue shrivels. I’m still too dependent, but it isn’t like

much of it anyway." There’s a note of dismissal in her voice,

speaking, I’m poor. I have no job and no prospects for one in the near future, with this strange lifestyle I’ve somehow acquired. Who am I to argue with free money? If it wasn’t

the line, followed immediately by a high-pitched scream. It makes my ears tingle uncomfortably. A slight shudder runs

the screen as if it might show me

infestation." Her tone remains casual, as if she’s swatting flies. And yet it sounds quite violent on her

for all kinds

this a