Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Grace: Coin (III)

Andrew’s little sedan, which technically belongs to the pack but no one seems to care he’s driving it around these days, lurches forward with a miniature roar as I slam my foot down on the accelerator, hoping and praying I don’t hit Andrew if he falls off the hood.

I don’t, in fact, hit Andrew, though I do hit someone.

My forehead bangs against the steering wheel as I brake for a second without thinking. Then I hear what I think is Andrew screaming at me to go, and my foot returns to the accelerator with a hard stomp. The sedan bumps over something and shoots forward, taking me away from the fight with haste.

My other hand jerks at the seatbelt until I’m safely buckled in and (hopefully) safe from another forehead-steering wheel slam if I run into anything else.

Not that I’m planning to, exactly, but—

My palms are sweaty and my fingers already ache from how tense they are on the wheel, but I lean over while keeping my eyes on the windshield, fumbling around on the passenger seat for my phone as I fight to hold myself steady against every bump of a speeding car on gravel.

Eventually, I find it and dare a quick glance.

Still no signal.

God, I hope Andrew’s okay.

But, of course, as soon as I think that something slams into the side of my car, sending me careening off-road into a nauseating spin.

The seatbelt once again saves me from a concussion, and I glance at my window, only to scream a little when I see Ellie’s face pressed against the glass.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

She looks like she’s walked right out of a horror movie, strands of her long black hair caught in her mouth and her emerald green eyes wide and crazed.

Blood trickles down her forehead, only completing her deranged look.

I jerk my eyes away from Ellie’s horror-movie face and slam my foot on the gas pedal, but nothing happens. The engine roars, but the car goes nowhere. Can’t even feel the tires spinning.

It might have something to do with the hood being crunched in on one side, but while I’m not a mechanic, it doesn’t seem likely.

Rafe’s jealous Luna pounds against the window. Her hair’s in sweaty clumps around her face and there’s blood trickling down from somewhere on her scalp, making her seem like some sort of war refugee even though she’s acting like a dangerous maniac.

Must be pretty privilege. You can look pitiful even when you’re being crazy.

But my ridiculous panicked brain focusing on how she’s both horrifying and pretty is not going to get me out of this mess.

"Get out! Get the fuck out!" she shrieks, in a frantic way I’ve never heard from her before. She might be a bitch, but she always holds herself at some level of composure, even if she’s delusional.

The only word left to describe her is rabid.

The doors are still locked, not like it’ll help much. If she puts her real strength into it, she’ll shatter these windows. It looks like she’s too out of her mind to be rational right now, which at least gives me time to figure out... something.

Fuck. But what?

My fingers shake as I snatch up my phone, but there’s still so no signal.

My heart rate spikes again when I see a notification appear on my screen. There’s still no signal. How the hell—?

[CAERIEL: Blast her.]

What the hell; if he wants me to blast her, can he at least give me step-by-step instructions on how?

[CAERIEL: Just like that, do it again. I’m not helping this time.]

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify