Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 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."

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.

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