Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 32: Grace: One Last Visitor

Caine’s strange behavior takes more mental real estate than it should, but I manage to finish my dinner with him gone. Eating under pressure is a lot harder than I ever expected.

With a full stomach and nothing else to do, I curl up on the bed. My eyelids grow heavy despite lingering anxiety; will Andrew really come? Is this plan going to work? Will I be okay once I get to Sterling City? So many questions, all impossible to answer without more time.

Eventually, the soft mattress beckons me into sleep, a temporary escape from this bizarre reality.

A rough shaking wrenches me out of deep sleep, and my foggy mind registers someone’s hand on my shoulder.

"Grace, wake up."

I sit up with a yawn, stretching my arms above my head until my joints pop. The motion helps clear some of the cobwebs from my brain, but when my vision focuses, my body freezes mid-stretch, hands locked high in the air. "Rafe?"

It’s not Andrew’s face hovering in front of me, but Raphael’s. His blue eyes shine so brightly, my stomach flips. Not with cute butterflies, but in dread. His gaze is too intense, almost fanatical.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss, scrambling backward until I hit the wall. The distance between us isn’t nearly enough.

Rafe’s pine-and-earth scent, once thrilling and now rather generic, fills my nostrils, bringing unwelcome memories. His golden hair catches the light from the bedside lamp, creating a halo effect that seems laughably inappropriate given our recent past. How can someone so cruel look so much like someone’s fantasy of a hero?

"I needed to see you before you leave for Forest Springs." He sits on the edge of my bed like he belongs there, reaching for my hand. "Andrew will be here soon."

I almost blurt out that Forest Springs is the last place I’d willingly go, but snap my mouth shut. He doesn’t know about the change in plans; it’s strange, but I’m not complaining about it. It’s better this way.

Though, there’s always the possibility Andrew lied just to appease me. I guess I’ll find out soon.

"Why would you need to see me?" I ask instead, pulling my knees to my chest and keeping my hands out of his reach.

His expression darkens as he takes his hand back, his brows drawing together. "Of course it’s because I care about you, Gracie. I haven’t been able to see you since they murdered our people. I was worried."

The audacity makes my jaw clench. His hands gesture between us as he continues.

"Everything’s been a mess, but I’m fixing it. You’ll see, Grace." He leans closer, earnestness radiating from him like heat. If my IQ was single digits, maybe I’d even believe in it. "Ellie understands now. And soon, the Blue Mountain Pack will be officially mine. It’s only a matter of time before I can bring you home."

Home. The word once meant something—safety, acceptance, belonging. Now it’s just four empty letters. This pack is not my home, and he’s one of the people who made it like this.

My face remains impassive through his passionate speech. His hands reach for me again, but I duck away from his attempted hug, scrambling off the bed.

"You need to leave," I say, my voice flat. "Before you ruin the entire plan and bring the Lycans running back to my room."

He shakes his head. "Don’t worry, Grace. Everything’s fine. I have a little time. I just needed to see you."

But it’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. The space between us feels charged with something toxic—his delusional hope and my simmering resentment. A dangerous combination.

"Rafe, please—"

He reaches out suddenly, fingers brushing against my neck. The touch sends revulsion crawling across my skin, and I jerk away.

"I’m so glad you’re staying true to me," he says with a strange, overly soft smile. "Refusing the Lycan King’s advances. Such a brave girl, my Grace."

My brain stutters to comprehend his words. He thinks I’m rejecting Caine... for him? A laugh bursts from my throat, sharp and incredulous. His delusions are only growing, becoming more ridiculous. Maybe it’s his way of dealing with trauma.

Rafe’s eyebrows lift at my reaction, but he must misinterpret it, because he steps forward, arms opening for an embrace as his head swoops closer, lips pursed for a kiss.

I dodge again, almost tripping over my own feet. Now I’m between him and the door, which is not where I want to be. It’ll be hard to shove him out in this position.

His face twitches, irritation flashing across his features before he smooths it away. "Come here, Grace."

No.

Not only no, but hell no.

"If your scent gets on me, the King will go crazy," I say, grasping for any excuse which might penetrate his thick skull.

This finally gives him pause. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. "You’re right. Of course, you’re right." His shoulders slump as he glances at me, his eyes wide and pathetic. It’s his puppy dog face. I used to think it was cute.

Now, it’s childish.

He steps around me, but his shoulder bumps against mine. The backs of our hands touch for a split second, but I try not to flinch. He’s doing what I want him to; I don’t want to start an argument and keep him here longer.

"I should go," he says, as if he’s wanting me to argue and beg him to stay.

Relief floods through me as he pauses only for a second before moving toward the door. His hand rests on the doorknob, but he turns back, expression solemn.

"I’m never going to hurt you again, Grace." The words fall from his lips with weighty significance, as if he’s delivering a romantic vow rather than an empty promise.

I don’t bother responding, turning my back instead as I walk toward my bathroom. When I finally look back, the door’s closed and he’s gone.

Thank. Fucking. God.

How can he possibly forget his cruelty on the night of the Mate Hunt, and the way he treated me the moment his fated mate appeared? Such thick skin he has, acting as if none of it happened—like I should be grateful for his attention, thrilled by his promise to "bring me home."

Perhaps all shifters are closet psychopaths.

I press my palms against my eyes until random shapes and colors bloom behind my eyelids. Rafe’s visit has left me rattled, on edge again, ruining what rest I’d managed.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering disgust. The mirror seems to emphasize the dark circles under my eyes, but at least the water helps clear my head.

When I step back into the bedroom, I freeze. Andrew stands by the window, dressed head to toe in black like some wannabe cat burglar. Black jeans, black hoodie, even black sneakers. My mouth drops open.

"Are you serious right now?"

He turns, frowning. "What?"

"The all-black ensemble? Could you be more obvious about sneaking around?" I gesture at his ridiculous outfit. "You might as well wear a sign that says ’I’m up to no good’ in neon letters."

"This is tactical gear."

"It’s a hoodie from Target." I cross my arms. "You’re a wolf. You should know better than I do, anyone following is going to smell us anyway. The color of your clothes won’t matter."

Andrew tugs at his sleeve, looking slightly offended. "It’s about blending into shadows."

"In a pack full of creatures with night vision?" I shake my head. "You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone’s going to take one look at you and know something’s up."

He scowls. "You sound like you’ve done this before."

"No, I just have common sense. The best way to not look suspicious is to not act suspicious."

Andrew sighs. "Whatever. It’s too late to change now. We need to move soon if we want to make it out before the ceremony starts. Did you meet with Rafe?"

I bite back the annoyance building in my chest. "He thinks you’re taking me to Forest Springs."

"I figured it’d be better to tell him after." He grimaces, scratching at his head. "No point starting a fight when we’re on such a tight schedule. I’ll just explain everything once you’re settled."

"Or you could just never tell them," I mutter, even though I know full well he would never keep a secret from Rafe.

Andrew’s frown deepens with my words, disapproval radiating off him in waves. His loyalty to Rafe is basically his only personality trait. Even now, he’s probably only helping me because Rafe asked him to, not out of any real concern for my wellbeing.

I paste on my best fake smile. This is no time to alienate my temporary benefactor. "Should we get going?" I gesture toward the door, eager to leave before anyone else decides to pay me an unexpected visit.

Escape, take two.