Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 63: Caine: Ten Minutes

CAINE

In hindsight, our arrival to the hospital could have been handled better.

Fenris grumbles, refusing to acknowledge his part in the chaos. He’s still upset to learn wolves aren’t allowed in the hospital. Service animals only.

... and getting mad at your mate’s doctors for refusing him entry doesn’t endear you to the hospital staff—or security.

Granted, I could have stood my ground. It isn’t as if their pathetic security force is enough to stop the wrath of a Lycan, much less their king. From what I can tell, even an average beta could wreck the place. After all, like most hospitals, they cater to humans. Even a weak shifter can overpower an average human.

A place like this doesn’t need someone capable of standing up to an alpha, much less a Lycan. Most of us don’t even heal slow enough to require hospital care. A few might require intensive treatment if they’re too weak for natural healing to kick in, but such situations are rare. Broken bones do need treatment, but rarely require an overnight stay. By far, the majority of shifters admitted to a hospital are there for one reason: Pregnancy.

Illness and injury may not plague our people the way it haunts a human’s lifetime, but even supernaturals can have issues with birthing offspring.

Which explains why the humans became so squirrelly when I threatened to throw her first doctor through a wall, daring to tell me our presence is unnecessary because Grace was just sleeping. A violent environment is no place to bring a fresh pup into the world.

Magnanimous as I am, I allowed their pathetic security force to escort me off hospital grounds...

Only because Lyre threatened to lock you out of her home if you didn’t, Fenris huffs. You can’t keep treating humans like this if you want Grace to like you.

She does like me. This fact is now established. Granted, she liked me a little too much and fainted afterward...

I check my phone again, a growl building in my throat. Nothing. The screen remains stubbornly blank, no new messages from Lyre.

Ten minutes. Ten goddamn minutes since her last update.

She said Grace is stable. You heard the doctor yourself.

"I don’t trust them," I mutter, pacing outside of the gas station conveniently located across the street from the hospital. They want me one hundred feet away, which is fine... but I’m not going any farther. "How hard is it to send a text?"

She’s ignoring you. Stop demanding updates every five minutes. She has better things to do, like actually watching over Grace.

I grit my teeth over the annoying truth of his words. "Don’t start."

Maybe he’s right, though. Five minutes might be extreme. Ten minutes should be fine, though.

I wasn’t the one who threatened to disembowel the nurse for asking you to fill out paperwork.

My eyebrows snap together. "He was keeping me from Grace. Her IV was pulling at her skin—"

He was doing his job. And Lyre fixed the IV.

The rainbow-haired enigma had even slapped my hand away again, telling me in no uncertain terms to stay away from Grace. That’s when it all started. The humans had given me strange looks.

Fine. Maybe he’s right about the one instance, but the rest...

You mean the doctor you pinned against the wall?

"He told us to leave."

What about the nurse you yelled at for asking you to lower your voice?

"She was disrespectful."

I squeeze the bridge of my nose with a sigh. When Fenris mentions all the incidents at once like this, it does make me sound a little out of control. Not as much as normal, but my mind has enough clarity today to recognize what he’s trying to say.

What about the receptionist you made cry when she couldn’t access Grace’s file immediately?

I bare my teeth. "Are you keeping a fucking list?"

Someone should. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

I growl. A nearby woman clutching a coffee cup flinches, scurrying to her car and slamming the door shut.

My phone’s still silent, even after listening to Fenris list my transgressions. Like he’s some sort of priest instead of an equally hot-headed wolf.

This isn’t about me. It’s about you.

"What the hell does that mean?" I snarl, trying to keep it a little quieter than normal. These humans find talking to yourself strange, despite it being a common occurrence on pack grounds.

Another reason humans aren’t a great choice of mate.

Not my Grace, though. She’s comfortable with wolves.

You’re afraid, Fenris points out, ruining the small surge of pride and affection coursing through me over the thought of Grace’s acceptance of wolf culture.

"I’m not—"

You’re worried because you almost killed Grace. Instead of admitting it, you’re lashing out at everyone else. Kings have pride, but only an idiot king would be so childish.

I clench my jaw, pointedly ignoring Fenris’s sanctimonious lecture. The silence stretches between us, heavy with his accusations and my refusal to engage.

My phone vibrates, screen lighting up with a new notification. Every muscle in my body tenses as I check it.

[LYRE: She’s fine.]

"She’s fine?" I growl at the screen, as if it might reveal more information under threat. "What the hell does that mean?"

Two words. Two fucking words after making me wait fifteen minutes. The vague message only amplifies my anxiety rather than alleviating it.

It’s good Grace is fine, Fenris says, taking the moral high ground he seems determined to make his home. It’s all an act, though. I can feel the anxiety radiating from his corner of my brain.

I type back furiously, thumbs punching the screen. I hate phones.

[CAINE: Define ’fine’. Is she awake? Still resting? Test results back??]

The three dots appear, indicating Lyre’s typing a response, then disappear. Appear again. Disappear. My patience frays with each flicker.

Ask nicely, Fenris suggests.

"Fuck off."

A middle-aged man walking past gives me a startled look before quickening his pace. I bare my teeth at his retreating back.

My phone remains stubbornly silent. No typing dots. No response.

"Goddammit." I pace across the gas station parking lot, unable to stand still while my mate lies in that sterile building across the street. The distance—mere hundreds of feet—feels like miles. An insurmountable barrier erected between us.

Fine. I’ll try it Fenris’s way.

[CAINE: Please update me on her condition. Is she conscious?]

The response comes almost immediately.

[LYRE: She’s awake. Still waiting on test results. She needs more rest. I’m sure they’ll keep her overnight.]

I exhale sharply, relief flooding through me. She’s awake. Conscious. Speaking. The tightness in my chest loosens just enough to breathe properly.

[CAINE: Can I come back?]

Another immediate response: [LYRE: No.]

My claws extend reflexively, scraping against my phone case. A growl builds in my throat, rumbling so loud a car pulling into the gas station diverts to another pump farther from me.

[LYRE: They’ll call security again. She doesn’t need that stress.]

Fine. I suppose that’s fair.

"High Alpha?"

An unfamiliar voice comes from behind. I missed his approaching scent, and I wonder why the Fiddleback Pack keeps sending idiots to speak with the Lycan King. It’s common knowledge not to approach a stronger opponent from downwind. Unless, of course, you’re planning something nefarious.

"What?" I snap, turning to face the stranger.

A young wolf stands before me, shoulders pulled back, chin tipped up in an almost challenging posture. Dark brown hair swoops across his forehead, and he smiles at me with perfect white teeth. His stance suggests casual confidence, like we’re equals meeting at a bar rather than a subordinate addressing the Lycan King.

"I’m Deputy Marshal Dawson. Everyone calls me Marsh." He extends a hand for a shake. "Alpha sent me to—"

My stare locks onto his, and my lips curl back just enough to expose the tips of my canines. I don’t move to take his hand. Awkward silence stretches as he swallows his words.

His smile falters first. Then his hand drops to his side.

"Um..." His eyes dart toward the ground, then back up, unable to maintain contact with mine. His shoulders slope downward, the bravado seeping out of him with each passing second.

I take a single step closer.

"Alpha..." he begins again, voice pitched lower. He takes one step backward, creating deferential space between us, his body slightly bent forward in submission. "The Alpha has organized a welcome banquet tonight. In your honor, High Alpha."

The words emerge in a rush, like he can’t get them out fast enough. His eyes are now pointed toward the ground rather than meeting my gaze directly.

"A banquet." Such social pleasantries are the bane of my responsibilities as the Lycan King. The thought of listening to small talk and veiled attempts at gaining my political favor set my teeth on edge.

"Yes, sir. At the pack house. Eight o’clock."

A waste of time, Fenris grumbles inside my head.

I glance toward the hospital across the street. I have no interest in attending, but it would be discourteous to refuse hospitality while residing in Fiddleback territory.

Pack protocol dictates certain formalities when one alpha enters another’s territory—doubly so for the High Alpha. Under normal circumstances, I would have contacted the Fiddleback Alpha immediately upon arrival, paid my respects, and maybe even presented a small token of appreciation for his hospitality. All details I usually have Jack-Eye attend to.

Instead, I stormed into his territory and brushed off his well-meaning, if irritating, scouts for daring to question my presence.

Not my most diplomatic moment, though diplomacy has never been a great strength of mine to begin with.

I glance again at the hospital. Grace is in there. Awake. Weak.

If we cause trouble with the local pack, it could make things harder for her, Fenris says, surprising me with his reasonableness.

I hate when he’s right.

"Fine. I’ll attend."

Relief relaxes the young wolf’s features. "Great! That’s great. The Alpha will be—"

"On one condition."

His mouth snaps shut.

"My mate is in the hospital. I need updates on her condition."

"I’m sure we can arrange—"

"Every five—no, ten minutes."

Marsh blinks rapidly, processing the demand. "Updates... every ten minutes? From the hospital?"

"Yes. And I need a way back in if she needs me."

A loophole, Fenris grunts approvingly. Finally, you’re using your brain. I was starting to think you discarded it.

Marsh hesitates, clearly calculating how to fulfill this request. "Of course, High Alpha."