Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Caine: Directions

CAINE

I grip the steering wheel tight enough to leave indentations in the leather as Jack-Eye’s voice crackles through my phone’s speaker. My patience—already hanging by a thread—stretches thinner with each passing minute.

We couldn’t find Halloway anywhere. Even Thom couldn’t track him down, much like he couldn’t track Grace. He keeps blaming some strange magic in the area, but I don’t care about excuses; only results.

And we have none.

Which is why we’re in our current situation.

“No, you need to take Spruce Avenue, not Bruce Avenue,” Jack-Eye says for the third time.

“There is no fucking Spruce Avenue!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel with a low growl, my vision hazing red for a split second.

The GPS on this car’s dash shows nothing but a maze of similarly named streets in a godforsaken suburban hellscape.

“Well, that’s what Lyre says, and since she’s the one who knows where we’re going—”

I snarl. “If she’d just give us the damn location, we wouldn’t be driving in circles.”

A new voice cuts in, Lyre’s sardonic voice bleeding through speakerphone. “Sorry, did I miss the part where I invited the big bad wolf pack to join my rescue mission? You two should be grateful I’m even letting you tag along.”

Fenris grumbles in my head.

“What street did you just pass?” she continues, oblivious to her own audacity.

It’s hard to unclench my teeth, but I manage it. “Beech Street.”

“Okay, then turn left at the next intersection.”

“That’s a one-way street going the wrong direction,” I growl, peering ahead at the road sign.

Jack-Eye’s voice returns. “Look, just take a left onto Pine Street, then follow it to Spruce.”

I check the map again. “There’s Pine Street and Bruce Street. No Spruce.”

“No, it’s definitely Spruce,” Jack-Eye insists.

Fenris groans in my head. The streets in this area follow a tree-naming convention. Pine. Oak. Maple. Spruce would fit the pattern, not Bruce. Just find Spruce.

I take the turn onto Pine, driving slowly while scanning every street sign. “There’s no fucking Spruce!”

“I’m looking at it right now,” Jack-Eye argues. “S-P-R-U-C-E.”

The car fills with the sound of my low, continuous snarling. “Well, I’m looking at a street sign that says B-R-U-C-E. Bruce Street. Not Spruce.”

Strange. Jack-Eye wouldn’t make such a basic error.

I slam on the brakes. “Get out.”

“What?” my beta asks.

Who?

“You, Fenris. Get out.”

“Are you kicking your own wolf out?”

I’m not even manifested.

“Then manifest. Get. Out. Walk the block. Find this mythical Spruce Avenue yourself.”

Fenris pauses. That’s childish and inefficient. Just keep driving.

“So is listening to you two argue about a street that doesn’t exist!” I hit the steering wheel again, harder this time. Something cracks beneath my fist. “Every minute we waste is another minute Grace is with strangers who took her from the hospital. Who knows what they’re doing to her—”

My throat closes up, the words dying there. The thought of Grace scared, hurt, or worse makes my chest feel like it’s being crushed in a vice.

A new voice enters the conversation.

“Um… High Alpha? Can I see the map?”

It’s Andrew. Both he and Thom have been silent in the backseat, and I almost forgot either of them existed.

“Who’s that?” Jack-Eye asks.

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