Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 203: Grace: He Might Be Dead

The camper lurches violently, and I grab the back of the bench to keep from falling. My stomach drops like I’m on some demented carnival ride—one where the operator’s trying to kill you and your frying pan is your only defense.

So basically, a ride that doesn’t (and shouldn’t) exist.

But we’re on it anyway.

Sadie’s barking shifts from alert to something more feral. The white cat materializes out of fucking nowhere, back arched impossibly high, fur standing on end like it’s been electrified, entering the fray with yowling growl-adjacent noise haunted houses might use to terrify children.

The combined noise level reaches fuck this shit awful quick, but we’re all too busy bracing for the second impact to tell them to shut their fucking muzzles.

But time keeps marching, and nothing happens.

Just a whole lot of squalling from the animals.

"What’s going on?" Sara asks, her voice shaking.

I risk a glance back. Ron’s got one arm around Sara, who’s clinging to Jer, who looks like he’s trying desperately not to look terrified. Their eyes are wide, faces pale—well, not Ron’s, but the other two.

It would be heartbreaking if I had the time or luxury for my heart to break.

Meanwhile, Bun squirms in Ron’s other arm, completely oblivious to our imminent doom, chanting, "Kitty! Kitty!" with all the excitement of a toddler who hasn’t realized we’re all about to enter the wolfpocalypse, armed only with a frying pan and two really loud pets.

I press my lips together and swallow hard against the fear clogging my throat and take the pan with me as I edge toward the window again.

The blinds stick as I try to push them up. My hand shakes, and I mutter, "Please don’t jump up and scare me," because my nerves can’t handle a horror-movie face suddenly appearing at the glass, and I’m pretty sure that’s what’s about to happen.

the blinds finally cooperate, there’s nothing. No snarling Lycan. No face pressed against the window. In fact,

confused, and scan the area.

shape sprawled on the ground yards from the camper. It doesn’t move. Not even

noisy defense, their barking and hissing escalating to a toothache-inducing pitch,

lolling out like she personally dispatched our would-be attacker. The white cat gives us all a look of supreme disgust before stalking down the hallway, clearly done with

face closer to the window, squinting at the still form on the

not moving. At

Oh shit.

actually

Lyre’s protections over this camper are

person I’ve ever met—but

motionless Lycan through the window, trying to process what just

his breath fogging it. When did he get over

Staring at the man

his voice filled with awe. Like he’s just witnessed a superhero origin story.

between a snort and a scoff.

don’t know that," he fires back, not taking his eyes off the prone body in the street.

intervene, should tell them to stop arguing, but my brain feels disconnected from my body. I’m still clutching the frying

my side, quiet as always. He reaches for the pan with

voice low, so the younger kids

heart’s still pounding

the makeshift weapon back into the sink, where it can