Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 202: Grace: Intruder Alert

The knock comes again and Sadie launches into another frantic round of guard-barking, making my already pounding head throb harder.

Holding the frying pan up sounds easy, but it doesn’t take long for the weight to start wearing on my wrist. It’s an eye-opening example of precisely how weak I am.

"Grace? Grace Harper?" The voice outside carries a rough edge of irritation now. It’s male, deep, and both generic and vaguely familiar.

But vaguely familiar could mean anyone; I don’t recognize every Blue Mountain pack voice. Just the ones I run into all the time.

I grip the skillet tighter, my knuckles aching and arms trembling. Partly from exhaustion, partly from the rush of adrenaline still making its way through my system, and a lot because what the fuck, I am so sick of this insanity and how I don’t get a chance to sit down and relax.

Seriously. Is a movie night too much to ask for?

Maybe lunch outside in a cool breeze?

But no, I don’t get family movies or pretty picnic lunches. I get chased through my old pack lands and strangers knocking on my camper door.

"Aren’t you gonna answer it?" Jer asks curiously, still watching me from his spot on the dinette bench.

Sara delivers a swift elbow to his ribs, making him yelp. "Read the room!" she whispers fiercely. "She’s going to kill him with the frying pan."

Her little brother rubs at his chest, looking thoroughly offended and also unimpressed. "Yeah, well, it isn’t Rapunzel’s frying pan, so I don’t think it’s going to work."

"It isn’t a special

frying pan, you dingus."

"If you want to get specific, it’s cast iron. Cast iron is heavy. Whatever Grace is using is just those cheap nonstick pans you get for like, ten dollars."

Reasonable Ron strikes again, but somehow he’s more irritating than the other two.

"Shut up," I hiss, waving the pan in a frantic shooing motion toward the living room area. "All of you, get back. Now."

Is it appropriate to tell children to shut up? Pretty sure it isn’t.

there are so many damn rules to this whole parenting gig, and I think

Bun stares at me

"But—" Jer starts.

deadly serious tone I’ve

it from

think mine works as well, because they retreat with

by the door, though the

continues, his irritation obviously still on

until I make it to the window. My legs still feel like jelly and I keep smacking elbows and feet against different things, but I’m intent on keeping my frying pan up

I peek out the side of the blinds to see who’s

eyebrows rocket toward

the ones who was here earlier, with

let the blinds fall back into place, then realize how ridiculous

on, Grace.

him permission to use my first name? We’re strangers. He should at least call me "Miss

I call through the blinds and

sound like I’m twelve instead of a solid eighteen, but give me a break, here. I’m running on fumes and the vague memory of

don’t open the door, I’m breaking

grip the frying pan

here." I was mad earlier when Caine claimed the children, but now their identity as his kids is useful. And, since this Lycan was there when the claim happened, he won’t doubt

he

to break down this door," he snaps. "Open the fucking door,

been demoted from a presumptive use of my first name to just being addressed

so awkward I’m not even sure if I should be angry. Seriously, who goes around calling people human? I feel like I should

behind me. "Does

I say at the same

open this door,

even harder. "No, thank

much," Ron explains calmly, continuing