Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 162

162 Gra stealing Our House (END BOOK THREE)

162 Grace: Stealing Our House (END BOOK THREE)

We’re going to be traveling for days.

Days.

With a bunch of kids crammed into a truck. There won’t be enough room to stretch out, and there are only so many snacks you can cram down a child before they get full.

I’m already nervous.

And Bun doesn’t even have a carseat. Worse, even if we buy her one, there isn’t room

for it.

I gnaw at my lower lip. If we get into an accident, I’ll never forgive myself for not having a car seat for the baby… but the idea of sending one of the kids in the car with Andrew unsupervised makes me want to vomit. Or have a panic attack. Or both.

Andrew’s been… nice. Helpful. He hasn’t complained once about suddenly being under the thumb of the Lycan King–but then again, why would he? It’s putting his life on the line for nothing.

So, while he hasn’t done anything outright to harm us, I just can’t quite trust him. Not

with my kids.

When I look up, Lyre’s staring out the window again, her body unnaturally still.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, abandoning the pile of books I’m trying to cram into a closet. It’s more like I was staring at them while thinking about seat arrangements, anyway.

Her cat–like eyes narrow as she points through the glass. “Is that the couple you had

dinner with?”

I follow her gaze. “Yeah, that’s them. Archie and Doris. They were really sweet.”

Lyre doesn’t look convinced. She studies their vehicle with unsettling intensity, then raises her phone and snaps a photo.

“What are you doing?” I ask, a cold feeling settling in my stomach.

“People aren’t always what they seem, that’s all.” She tucks her phone away with a casual shrug, but it feels anything but casual. “Paranoia comes with the job, Grace.”

12:24 O

15

162 Grace Sealing Our House (END BOOK THREE)

I frown, unconvinced.

Sure, the couple was odd–Doris’s blessing over dinner had given me goosebumps, and- they were both a little too friendly. But dangerous? They’re just a pair of retirees who shared their barbecue and taught Jer to play Go Fish.

He’s terrible at remembering the rules.

“They’re harmless,” I say, but doubt creeps in anyway.

“Maybe.”

Before I can pester her for more information, a loud, frantic bout of barking erupts outside, followed by the kids shouting.

“Fenris, no!”

“Sara, grab her!”

“Someone get Caine!”

Lyre and I lock eyes for a split second before bolting for the door. I nearly trip on the small step as we rush outside.

Fenris stands with his massive body tense, teeth bared, hackles high, with a deep growl rumbling through the air.

Sadie, the golden retriever, barks back frantically, her body low to the ground in a strange mix of fear and defiance. Ron holds Bun protectively against his chest while Sara tries to position herself between the two animals.

“Fenris, stop!” I call out, stepping toward him without thinking.

Caine materializes from somewhere behind the camper–he was on

put–away–the–generator duty–and grabs Fenris by the scruff. The giant wolf doesn’t retreat, but he stops advancing.

It’s almost comical, if it weren’t for the stressed–out children and the terrified dog.

“He says she smells wrong,” the Lycan translates, his face impassive as he also stares down the poor dog.

Lyre stands beside me, resting an arm against my shoulder. “Well, it’s supposed to,” she replies evenly. “You can’t blame it for how it smells.”

162 Grace aling Our House (END BOOK THREE)

What a strange response.

Caine must think so, too, because he immediately glowers at her. “What do you mean?”

In his moment of distraction, Sadie breaks away from her standoff, zooms in a happy circle around all of us–like this is just some great game–and then bolts straight into the open camper door.

“No!” I cry out, but it’s too late.

Jer doubles over, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. “She’s–she’s stealing our house!”

His older brother sighs. Ron has a specific, Jer–said–something–stupid–again sigh. “How can she steal a house, Jeridiot? If anything, it’s a home invasion.”

Okay–I don’t think this is the point to focus on, though…

Sara, the darling, is the only one of the kids to exhibit the proper reaction. She shrieks, taking off after the dog. “Come back, Sadie! You can’t go in there! We’re getting ready to leave!”

I press my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache bloom. These children have only one level of volume, and it’s MAX. “I’ll get her, Sara.”

Lyre sighs, removing her arm from my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming with you.”

“What? No.” I shake my head vehemently. “She’s not our dog. We can’t just steal people’s dogs.”

Caine’s jaw tightens as he releases Fenris, who continues to stare daggers at the camper where Sadie disappeared before disappearing like he never existed. “Wolves and dogs don’t mix,” he grumbles. “I’ll get the dog, Grace.”

It isn’t a surprising statement, coming from wolves. Domestic dogs never hang around pack territories for a reason. Sadie seems to have more courage than most–or less brain cells. I’m not sure which.

He heads into the camper with heavy steps, and I hope he doesn’t scare Sadie too much. She strikes me as the kind of dog who might submissively pee when cornered by the Lycan King.

Jer, who apparently has superhuman hearing only when it comes to conversations he

162 Grace. Stealing Our House (END BOOK THREE)

wants to join, perks up immediately.

“Then I’ll get permission!” he shouts, and before anyone can stop him, he bolts toward Archie and Doris’s camper.

“Holy shit! What the fuc–Owen!”

Easy: Bey was being her. Overexcited about the idea of taking a dog with us, even if we don’t need it and she belongs to other prople. I didn’t think twice about his cauberance as he bounded off to ask for permissions“. I should have.

Whatever he saw is bad. Bad enough to shake a rambunctious seven or eight–year–old boy

Lyre stands befand Owen in the RV doorway peering around his bulk. She lets out a long sigh. “I knew t

“I should have noticed,” he agrees, his voice tight with frustration.

“Thary bad at well enough” Her tone is flat, whatever horror is inside, it hasn’t affected her. “They knew what they were doing”

My scrach its to multiple toy pretzels. “What’s wrong?”

Agimat ary sout, her’s wice cranes out muffled and small. “They’re dead?

163 Grave: What Jer Saw

My heart drops to my feet. Archie and Doris–the sweet elderly couple who’d

welcomed us with barbecue and laughter–dead? We’d just had dinner.

yesterday. It’s impossible.

them.

“Owen, take care of the kid,” Lyre says without looking back, stepping deeper into the

RV to make room.

Owen backs out of the camper on her order and kneels beside us. I loosen my grip on Jer just enough for Owen to reach out, patting his head with surprising gentleness for hands so large.

“They’re not dead, Jer,” Owen says, his voice calm and measured. For once, he doesn’t sound terrifying.

But his words don’t make much sense.

I blink, utterly confused. “What?”

“The bodies are just puppets,” he explains, glancing up at me. “Vessels. Nothing to fear. Those within are merely absent for the moment.”

“How is that possible?” I ask, still holding Jer close.

Owen squints at me, like he’s trying to think of how much to share. Finally, he says, “It’s more common than you’d think. Their souls will return to inhabit the bodies when

needed.”

Souls don’t just leave your body, take a stroll, and pop back in. That’s not how anything works. Not unless it’s App–related.

And if that’s the case? Of course Owen’s not explaining–he’s worried about Plausibility again.

This damn Plausibility is seriously getting in my way.

I don’t even know who sets the rules or who created the App, but I have a feeling the information’s on a need–to–know basis.

Jer shakes his head violently against my chest. “No. They’re dead. I saw them.” His shoulders shake harder, little tremors rippling through his small frame.

A familiar feeling in the air alerts me to a familiar approach, and I glance over my shoulder to see Caine striding toward us, his posture tense and alert.