Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 201: Grace: Like You Were Chased

"Stop it!" I hiss as sharp claws sink into my forearm. "I’m trying to save your ungrateful asses!"

The cat yowls louder, twisting in my grip while Sadie drags against my hold, nearly pulling my arm from its socket. I stagger backward toward the camper, my arms straining with the effort of controlling two animals determined to run toward danger.

"I swear to all that’s holy and not," I growl through clenched teeth, "if I get mauled by Ellie because you two decided to play hero, I’m coming back to haunt you both."

The cat hisses its objection as I practically hurl its pristine white body through the doorway. Sadie is worse, feeling like a ton or two of squirming, barking, foaming-at-the-mouth golden retriever I somehow manage to haul up and manhandle inside like an oversized sack of flour.

My pathetic biceps are ready to wimp out, but I hold on for dear life, knowing I’ll never be able to replicate this heroic dog-hauling if she dashes off again.

"Get. In. Here," I grunt, kicking the door closed behind us.

My fingers fumble with the lock, twisting it with the last reserves of my strength. The second it clicks into place, every ounce of adrenaline that’s been keeping me upright abandons ship. I slide down the door until my ass hits the floor with an unceremonious thud.

My heart hammers so hard I swear it’s about to crack a rib. Each breath comes ragged and shallow, my lungs still burning from the exertion. Sweat trickles down my neck, making my shirt collar stick uncomfortably to my skin.

This is what dying feels like. Has to be.

Sadie hasn’t given up her mission, frantically circling the small entryway, claws clicking against the laminate flooring as she continues barking at the door. The white cat, meanwhile, has vanished somewhere into the camper’s interior.

Fuck pets.

Whose idea was it to bring them along, anyway?

Oh, right.

Mine.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with me?

My legs sprawl out in front of me, utterly useless, while my hip throbs where I collided with Andrew.

Oh, right. Andrew.

I hope he’s okay.

but exhaustion has

was that all

of the dinette couch, Sara beside him. They’re both

marginally worried, though even his expression holds more confusion than fear. It’s still better than being stared

werewolves headed our way, and I want to keep it that way

I wheeze out, trying to sound casual and failing

scared," Sara remarks, her nose wrinkling. "And your heart’s going

Not that my racing heartbeat requires supernatural hearing to detect. It’s practically doing the freaking cha-cha in

lie, knowing she’s too sharp to buy it but too tired to come

snorts. "Is that

where four perfect lines of red have bloomed, courtesy of our new

"That’s from the cat."

tapers off, though she continues to pace anxiously by the door, occasionally stopping to sniff at the crack

to sit up straighter. "Where’s the

Bun gently. "It jumped straight in there. Guess it

at me, and says

"No," I lie immediately.

look

chest. "Trust us. We know. We’re

heart hurts at how easily and

again, but what’s the point? These kids have survived Fiddleback. Sugarcoating danger won’t help them. If

shifting to a slightly more dignified position. My muscles protest the movement. "The Luna

she hurt you?" Ron asks, his

my head.

course Grace got away. She’s one of us. We’re the best at being chased. Zip zoom swoosh, and