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 sdemented 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 tkeeps 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 tor 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 withas 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.

But when the blinds finally cooperate, there's nothing. No snarling Lycan. No face pressed against the window. In fact, no Lycan at the door at all.

I blink, confused, and scan the area. Where did he- My eyes stop on a large, dark shape sprawled on the ground yards from the camper. It doesn't move. Not even a little.

Sadie and the cat continue their noisy defense, their barking and hissing escalating to a toothache-inducing pitch, and I wave the pan in their general direction and snap, "Hush!" To my shock, both animals immediately quiet down. Sadie sits at the door, panting happily, tongue lolling out like she personally dispatched our would-be attacker. The white cat gives us all a look of suprdisgust before stalking down the hallway, clearly done with our amateur protection squad.

I press my face closer to the window, squinting at the still form on the ground.

He's not moving. At all.

Oh shit.

He might actually be dead.

But in good news, Lyre's protections over this camper are totally working.

Not that I ever really doubted her, considering she's like, the most badass person I've ever met-but it isn't like we've ever properly seen them in action.

I keep staring at the motionless Lycan through the window, trying to process what just happened. Beside me, Jer presses his face against the glass, his breath fogging it. When did he get over here? Guess I was just... zoned out. Staring at the man who won't move and prove he's still living.

"Did Sadie kill him with her bark?" he asks, his voice filled with awe. Like he's just witnessed a superhero origin story. Sadie, the Supernatural Dog of Wonder.

Sara makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a scoff. "Why are you so stupid? Dogs can't kill people with barking." "You don't know that," he fires back, not taking his eyes off the prone body in the street. "Maybe she's special." I should intervene, should tell them to stop arguing, but my brain feels disconnected from my body. I'm still clutching the frying pan with white knuckles, as if letting go might somehow reverse the protective magic that had just saved us.

Ron appears at my side, quiet as always. He reaches for the pan with calm, decisive movements, prying it from my cold fingers.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low, so the younger kids can't hear.

I nod mutely. My heart's still pounding like crazy.

He puts the makeshift weapon back into the sink, where it can reslife as a simple cooking tool.

When he returns, he extends his hand to me. It's such a simple gesture, but my eyes water with a suspicious amount of beartwarming, motherly feelings. I'm the adult here, the one who's supposed to take care of these kids, and he's the one taking care of me. As usual.

"Thanks," I whisper, taking his hand and letting him helpup from the bench. My legs feel steadier than I expected, and I'm inordinately proud of them for not buckling under my weight. We both turn toward the door, staring at it like it might suddenly dissolve and leave us open to another violent attempt at entry.

"Do you..." Ron starts, then clears his throat, asking awkwardly, "Do you think we should check on him?" I scratch at my neck, thinking it over. He's a Lycan. One of Caine's people. I should care what happens to him, right? That's what a good person would do.

But then I remember how he spat the word human, like I'm ssort of disease.

My upper lip twitches into a small, involuntary curl.

Nah. If he's dead, it isn't my fault.

Why put myself in danger to check on someone like him? Then I straighten in shock.

Shit.

Was that the sound of my humanity shattering? When did I becsomeone who could potentially watch a person die and just... shrug it off?

"We should call someone," I finally mutter, trying not to acknowledge how coldhearted I was just seconds ago. If I don't admit to it, the kids will never know. "Maybe let Caine know."