Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 200

200 Grace: Furnado

200 Grace: Furnado

He finally complies, but I remain frozen on the steps, torn between safety and responsibility. Sadie continues her frenzied barking, hackles raised. The white cat prowls in tight circles, raising its head in yowling little growls.

Can’t hear Ellie and her goons anymore, but that means nothing. Wolves move silent as shadows when they want to. And they definitely want to right now.

Huh.

Each breath is little more than a desperate gasp as I vault over another fence. This new

∙Baspast speed still feels alien in my body–like someone downloaded parkour skills directly into my muscles while I wasn’t looking.

His irritation vanishes instantly when he sees my face. Whatever I look like, it sobers him immediately. “They’re after you.”

Can a cat and dog stand up to wolf shifters? The answer is no. Unequivocally so.

I don’t hear the rest because two furry missiles launch themselves out the door before I can hop inside.

Where the fuck am I supposed to go?

At least they’re loyal, I guess.

He hesitates, his eyes darting between me and the animals. “But Sadie-”

But a desperate victim can’t exactly throw away allies.

“Thanks,” I manage to squeeze out between pants, the word feeling inadequate paired with my long–held suspicion of his motives.

“Grace?” Ron’s voice pulls me back to reality. Bun sneezes, her tiny hands clutching his shirt for balance with the force of it. “Are you okay? You look like—‘

My lungs burn with each stride, the supernatural speed from earlier still coursing through me but fading. Every step is slower than the last, my muscles starting to feel wobbly and jelly–like.

He flips over, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. “Since when do you drop out of the sky

200 Grace: Furnádo

like a human missile?”

I leap from a shed roof to a fence top, my mental map of the Blue Mountain territory flickering like a half–remembered dream. No time to check my phone. No time to slow down.

“Grace, what’s-”

Well.

“OOF!”

Things change when mates are involved. Especially mates who’ve become Luna to the pack.

I nod.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, abandoning rational thought as I lunge toward them.

The lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Ron’s worried face, Bun balanced on his hip. Her eyes are wide, three fingers shoved into her drooling mouth, and Sadie’s barking doubles in volume.

And, considering how our relationship telepathy is going, who knows the consequences of going there. Though it’s better than dying.

They’re my responsibility now, aren’t they? These weird, possibly supernatural animals that have attached themselves to our bizarre little family. But they’re being complete assholes, not listening to a single command, and Ellie is somewhere behind me with every intention of tearing my arms from my body.

But his face is set and his eyes are dark as he pulls out his phone. When I don’t move, he looks at me again with impatience. “Get out of here!”

Hah.

The last glimpse I catch is his determined expression as he pulls out his phone. Time to cross my fingers he can actually handle Ellie and her pack of loyal attack dogs. He is Rafe’s best friend, but…

“Go,” he snaps, not even looking at me and completely unaware of the guilt scrawled all over my face.

I grab Sadie’s collar with one hand, my fingers barely getting purchase on the leather

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200 Grace: Furnado

as she twists and pulls. With my other arm, I scoop up the white cat, who immediately becomes a hissing, clawing furnado.

I spot the camper through a gap between houses, painfully close. I veer right instead, away from the children.

“What the–Sadie, no!” I grab at nothing as they both dash past me, their bodies aimed like arrows in the direction I just came from. The cat’s back arches, fur standing on end as it hisses, a sound so vicious it seems impossible from its elegant form. Sadie’s barks turn deeper, more threatening than I’ve ever heard from her.

“What the fuck?” Andrew groans beneath me, his face half–buried in dirt.

I hesitate, glancing from Andrew back toward the camper. Even in this moment, I’m not entirely sure how far I can trust him.

One more fence. I gather momentum, pushing off from a garden planter, and launch myself over-

“Get inside,” I snap, waving him back into the camper as I remember I’m in frantic urgency. “Now!”

My body slams into something solid. Someone solid. Arms and legs tangle as we tumble, sharp pain shooting through my hip and leg as we roll. When we stop, I’m straddling a body, my hands pressed against a familiar back.

Better me than them.