Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Grace: Being Watched

I pull my phone from my pocket, hands shaking slightly as I find Lyre’s number. It rings once, twice, three times. My heart sinks with each unanswered tone. What if she doesn’t pick up? What if something’s happened to her? What if—

“Grace?” Lyre’s voice fills my ear, sounding slightly breathless. “I was just thinking about you.”

Relief floods through me. “Lyre, thank the Goddess. We have a problem.”

“When don’t we?” she says, but the sarcasm sounds strained. “What’s happening?”

“We’re at the camper, but the kids can’t get in. There’s some kind of… barrier keeping them out.”

“Oh, that.” Lyre sounds utterly untroubled. “Access ward. Safety feature. Got tired of jackasses breaking in whenever I park somewhere remote. It’ll disengage once you hitch it to the truck. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry—” I bite back the rest of my sentence, too aware of little ears. “Fine. Thanks.”

“You good otherwise?” she asks, suddenly sharper.

I hesitate, not wanting to voice the creeping dread slithering up my spine. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

“Hmm.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Call if you need anything else. I mean it.”

I hang up and turn to the kids. “Slight change of plans. The door won’t open until we hook the camper to the truck.”

“But I need to pee!” Jer wails.

“Go in the trees,” Sara says, pointing.

“I’m not peeing in the trees! There could be bears!”

“There are definitely bears,” Ron says, deadpan.

Jer’s eyes widen in horror.

“Enough,” Caine’s voice cuts through the bickering. The kids fall silent immediately. Even Bun stares at him with her huge, solemn eyes. “Everyone back in the truck. Lock the doors. I’ll help Grace prepare the camper.”

“I think you should all stay in the truck,” I say quietly. “Even you.”

Caine’s eyes narrow. “You can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve seen Lyre do it. It’s not that complicated.”

“Then I’ll help make it faster.”

I shake my head. “Ever pack up an RV before?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll be in the way. Stay with the kids. I’ll do it.”

He nods once before striding back to the truck. I exhale shakily, relieved to have space to work without his looming presence adding to my anxiety.

Alone, I move faster. Inside, everything loose gets shoved into nearby cabinets. Certain pieces of furniture are moved together to keep them from moving around with any bouncing movement of the trailer. Anything questionable goes on Lyre’s bed in the front.

Then it’s making sure there are no dirty dishes in the sink.

A quick press of a button dumps the black tank. Lyre likes to rinse it out a few times, but my shoulders keep prickling, so I forego the extra step. The gray tanks are next. A little water and some black tank treatment and they’re all ready to go.

Slides go in, and the camper’s ready—on the inside, anyway.

Outside, it goes quicker. Disconnect the water hose and electric. Stow away the gross sewer hoses. Use about half a bottle of sanitizer, even though I used gloves. Pull strange triangular blocks from the wheels, which are supposed to keep them from moving. Once it’s ready, I rap on Caine’s window and have him back up so we can hitch the trailer.

All in all, I think it takes about forty-five minutes. I’m sure Jer’s about ready to burst, and I’m only about half certain I did everything right.

My breath comes in shallow puffs, the feeling of being watched intensifying with each passing minute.

That would have been dangerous.

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