Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 108

Chapter 108: Caine: Get Them Out (END BOOK TWO)

CAINE

Owen’s cave is, strangely enough, located in a run-down neighborhood. Half the lawns are overgrown, and most families use their yards as storage instead of a decorative display.

The building housing Owen’s strange cave system looks the same as the rest. Several sun-bleached gnomes decorative what used to be some sort of garden, and more windows are boarded than not. Before Owen had given us access, the house was as empty inside as it looked from the outside.

Dirty, dusty, and bare of any life or even basic furniture.

I haven’t asked what strange magic connects the cave to this place. Lyre and those connected to her seem to live by strange rules. While magic isn’t necessarily unfamiliar, the strength and breadth of their powers are leagues beyond what any normal wizard could ever dream of accomplishing.

I circle the perimeter a third time, scanning for anything out of place, but nothing pings my radar.

The silence is absolute. Too absolute.

Animals go quiet when predators approach. Right now, not even the birds call.

“Something’s coming,“ Grace had said with absolute certainty. Not a question, not a fear—a fact.

She senses things she shouldn’t be able to sense.

Fenris’s voice is sluggish in my mind, weakened from our battle at Fiddleback. He’s quiet most of the time now, conserving strength, but Grace’s warning roused him.

His power is great, but the price of its consumption is equal in measure.

I grunt. He sounds a little too thoughtful, but I have no interest in questioning things further. There are more important things to deal with. I don’t question it.

It’s more than a feeling. The wolf’s curiosity ripples through our shared consciousness. A human shouldn’t detect danger before a wolf. She’s showing traits she shouldn’t possess. Don’t you wonder what that means about who she really is?

My jaw clenches. Don’t care. She’s Grace.

That’s not an answer. She could be—

She’s Grace. I cut him off with a flash of irritation. My mate. That’s all that matters right now. If there’s a threat incoming, we get her and those kids out. Nothing else takes priority.

Fenris huffs, a grudging concession rather than agreement. His fascination with Grace is no less than mine, but it feels as if our roles have reversed since he first met her during the Blue Mountain Mate Hunt.

The vibration of my phone cuts through the tension. Jack-Eye’s name flashes on the screen.

“Status,” I snap, waiting beside the front door. I’ll go in soon, but I don’t want the children to hear any bad news., voice low.

“We’re heading back your way, I think,” Jack-Eye replies, his voice tinny through the speaker. “Signal’s shit out here.”

He’s too far to utilize the pack link. While I can access any wolf on my pack territory, anything outside a fifteen-mile radius is too far outside of it.

“Are you coming here, or looking for something else?”

“About that.” There’s a hesitation. “She hasn’t exactly shared our exact destination yet. Driving blind. Well, you know Lyre. She’s an open book. One with all its pages glued together.”

I grunt, unsurprised. That woman’s defining trait is her refusal to give straight answers.

“We’re evacuating the cave. Grace has… a feeling. Something’s coming.”

There’s a pause, too long to be casual. I hear the murmur of voices in the background—Jack-Eye relaying the information.

“Lyre says that’s smart,” he finally responds. “She says Grace should take her truck and camper. There’s a remote boondocking site—whatever the fuck that is—about forty miles northeast. Secluded enough to hold you over. Grace knows how to set it up.”

My eyes narrow at the quick response. “Lyre anticipated this?”

“You’ve met her, right?” There’s a dry note in Jack-Eye’s voice. “I’ll text the coordinates. We’ll meet you there when we can.”

“Fine.” I don’t bother with a goodbye, ending the call with a press of my thumb.

There’s a moment of uncertainty as we all stare at the truck cab.

“Can we all even fit?” she asks dubiously.

I reach past her, opening the door to reveal the bench seat. With a practiced motion, I flip up the hidden middle seat that had been folded down. “Fits six. Barely.”

Grace looks skeptical, eyes darting to Bun, who’s currently leaned far over her arms to try and chew on Sara’s sleeve. I share her doubt about the toddler’s ability to endure a long drive without wreaking havoc, but we don’t have options.

The mood remains heavy as we load up. The children climb in with none of their usual arguments or chaos. They sense it too—the importance of moving quickly, the weight of Grace’s warning.

Smart kids.

Ron helps strap Bun into a makeshift seatbelt arrangement in the rear seat, with Sara on the other side to keep her contained. Jer slides reluctantly into the middle of the front bench, his small frame barely taking up space between Grace and me.

I insert the key—conveniently left in the ignition—and the engine rumbles to life. Lyre’s carelessness with her vehicle security works in our favor today, though it seems odd the witch would make such a flagrant mistake.

Bun crunches loudly on an apple, the sound startling in the tense silence. No one speaks. No one asks questions. The children, for once, seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

Grace meets my eyes across the cab, her green gaze steady and trusting. Something unspoken passes between us—an understanding, a shared resolve.

“We’re heading back to get the camper,” I tell her, and she nods.

I drive.

Grace doesn’t say a word.

Neither do the kids.

There’s nothing left to say when the only thing that matters is getting out.