Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 45: Grace: Knock, Knock

The question catches me off guard, a sharp left turn from my panic about being hunted.

"Fate?" I hesitate, my fingers digging into the soft pillow. "What do you mean by fate?"

"Fate." She rolls the word around like she’s tasting it. "When you’re destined for something. No matter what you do, you can’t escape it. Your path is already written."

My throat tightens. Once, I thought Rafe was my soul mate. I thought our lives would intertwine forever, that nothing could separate us. Then fate arrived wearing Ellie’s face, and everything changed. The memory of his cold eyes as he chose her still burns in my chest.

"Fate took Rafe from me," I whisper, more to myself than to Lyre. "His fated mate appeared, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Not our years together, not our plans. All my happiness was taken away, and all I was left with was pain." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.

My newly blonde hair falls over the pillow like a golden waterfall, and I grab a few strands between my fingers. "Fate makes me sound helpless. Like I’m just going wherever I’m pushed." My jaw sets with determination. "I’d rather fight to be happy than sit around accepting whatever I’ve been given. That’s why I’m here."

Lyre’s lips curl into a knowing smile. The expression transforms her face, softening her sharp features. "Fate would never destine you for unhappiness, Grace."

A bitter laugh escapes me, surprising in its harshness. Orphaned, abandoned, rejected... It doesn’t seem like fate has anything good in store for me. "I’m not so sure about that."

"I know," Lyre says simply, before settling back on the couch and closing her eyes again. "Don’t worry, Grace. What will be, will be. And what you don’t want will never be." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

I study Lyre, resting so calmly despite the bombs she’s thrown into a simple conversation. Even the moment I met her, I thought she was strange; but this goes beyond what I ever imagined.

I want to ask what she is, and what powers she holds. She’s clearly not human, and knows more than she lets on. But remembering how happy she was when I said it didn’t matter makes it really hard to ask again.

My fingers dig into the pillow still pressed against my chest. The burning on my back has subsided completely now, replaced by an odd coolness, like menthol spread across my skin. I bite my lip. "You still haven’t explained who’s following us and why we’re not running right now."

Is she tired of having me around? Is she willing to just throw me back to the pack?

She doesn’t know the details of who I’m running from, or how I got here. She hasn’t asked. At first, I liked that. Now, I’m wondering if I should have told her; maybe appealing to her, showing her how awful my life was there, would have been a better decision. Maybe she wouldn’t be so willing to just sit here while someone hunts me down.

Then again, she never said they were here for me. Maybe she’s running, too; who knows what danger we’re in?

Lyre just snuggles deeper into the couch, stretching her legs out in a languid movement. "It’s pointless to run anymore," she says through her stretch, voice unconcerned. "May as well be comfortable."

"Are we in danger?" This is the most important question.

She sighs. "No. You’re not in danger."

I notice how she says I’m not, but she doesn’t say we’re not.

"Are they looking for you or me?"

Lyre turns her head again, opening her eyes to stare at me. She doesn’t answer, saying instead, "We can run if you want. Pack up right now. Drive all night. Find some random parking lot when I can’t drive anymore, then keep going."

Someone shouts on the TV, but neither of us break our stare-lock.

"But they’ll catch up," she continues matter-of-factly. "It might take longer, but they will. And you’ll be tired, hungry, and scared when they do."

My throat tightens. "So what’s your solution? Just wait here for them to catch up?"

Lyre waves a hand, encompassing the room in a single gesture. "My solution is to be comfortable. There’s no danger, so why run? Better to deal with it now, with our bellies full and our bodies rested."

"Okay, well, now I know they’re coming, and I’m scared. So why won’t you just tell me who’s coming?" I lean forward, trying not to let my voice rise too much. She’s my benefactor, and I think she’s my friend, so there’s only so far I can push.

But I’m pushing anyway.

Lyre scratches at her cheek, squinting at the ceiling. "I know what is coming, Grace, but I don’t know who carries the fate."

I frown, my patience wearing thin. "Can you just give me a direct answer for once?"

Lyre’s eyes meet mine, strangely luminous in the dimly lit camper. "It doesn’t work that way." She taps her temple with one finger. "Clarity isn’t part of the package."

Something inside me snaps. The fear, the uncertainty, the cryptic half-answers—it’s too much.

"What are you?" The question bursts out of me, fueled by desperation and fear. "You talk about fate and you knew about my scars without looking and you know when invisible cats are dangerous or not and—" I drop my voice to a harsh whisper. "Someone’s following us, and all you can tell me is I’m not in danger. But there’s more to being alive than just breathing. I ran away for a reason. So tell me what you know!"

Lyre tilts her head, her multicolored hair catching the lamplight. "You said it didn’t matter what I was." She doesn’t even address the rest of what I word-vomited at her.

Heat rushes to my face; I’m not sure if it’s shame or anger. "That was before you started acting weird and not giving me straight answers."

"Humans. You’re all the same." She sits up straight, her eyes suddenly hard and gleaming, like polished stones. "You say one thing but change your minds so capriciously. ’It doesn’t matter what you are, Lyre.’ Until it does. Until you’re scared. Until you need something."

The disappointment in her voice is like a slap to the face, and I flinch. My shoulders slump. She’s taken me in out of kindness, and I’m here demanding more and more.

But isn’t it normal to want clear answers? Wouldn’t it be normal to be frustrated in this situation?

Still, it seems like I’ve hurt her feelings, too...

"I’m sorry," I murmur, clinging to the pillow like a lifeline. "I really don’t care what you are. I just..."

Three sharp knocks echo through the camper, and I jump.

Lyre sighs. "Put on your shirt, Grace. They’re here."