Page 75 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"No one," he says, his voice hoarse.
Lie, lie, LIE.
"Lying again?" I grab his jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "After what just happened to your hand, you're still lying to me, you little shit?"
A tremble runs through his body. It's hard for any alpha wolf to submit, even a young one, but hardest for those who rule over a pack. Still, he should know better than to keep foolishly resisting.
"Andrew," he finally whispers.
Andrew. The name means nothing to me, but I'll find him soon enough. "And why would this Andrew visit her?"
Raphael swallows hard. "He was checking on her well-being."
Half-truth. The scent of deception is weaker, but still present. My eyes narrow, fingers digging into his cheeks. All I want is to rip this pup apart, to raze this pack to the ground, but I hold myself back. I have to.
If I kill everyone, she'll always be afraid of me, won't she?
"Checking on her for what purpose?"
Sweat drips down Raphael's temple as he struggles to speak through my grip. "Just to make sure she was okay."
Lie.
"Last chance." I tighten my grasp on his jaw until he winces. "What was Andrew doing in her room?"
Something in Raphael breaks. Perhaps it's the pain, or maybe the realization that I won't stop until I have the truth. "Wewere going to move her," he gasps out. "Tomorrow morning. To Forest Springs."
Forest Springs is a neighboring pack. The Alpha's daughter is now Raphael's Luna, who hurt the girl only this morning. "Do you know the price of stealing from the Lycan King, Raphael?"
Caine,Fenris says, growling. Fury burns through our bond, leaving my wolf incoherent with rage as he howls. Words are unnecessary; I already understand.
Grace is gone.
Chapter thirty-nine
Grace: How Can You Miss It?
Over the next two days, Lyre drags her camper—and me—across the country. It's actually only across one state line, but it's still farther than I've ever traveled before.
The driving itself isn't long each day; she says she never drives more than three hundred miles a day when she's hauling a camper. Still, the routine is more tiring than I expect.
And Andrew follows behind every step of the way, clearly obsessed with keeping his eye on me. I'm sure it's to tell Rafewhere I am, but it isn't like a new Alpha can just wander across the country to take me back.
Still, it's not a great feeling to know you're being essentially stalked. He doesn't hide what he's doing, but he isn'tnotdoing it, either…
The high noon sun is bright and merciless, which means the camper's going to be an oven when we finally make it to our stop tonight. We still have another hundred miles to drive before finding a rest stop tonight.
"Food run," she announces, exiting the highway. "They have a dump station here, too. Why don't you order while I get some diesel and clear out the tanks?"
I've learned a lot in the past forty-eight hours, and most of it involves how much work is involved in keeping a camper convenient. Like toilets. I never really thought about where waste goes when you flush, but it's not as though we have plumbing in the parking lots of giant retail conglomerates.
We have a supply of fresh water for hygiene and dishes, but we also have separate drinking water. And tanks beneath the RV somewhere, magically holding all the gross stuff until we make it to a dump site. Lyre keeps talking about full hook-ups when we get to her friend's place in Yellowstone, which will make our lives easier, but so far I haven't had to lift a finger. She does all the work.
"Got it. Bacon cheeseburger?"
I push open the passenger door, my blonde hair—still strange to see in mirrors—blowing across my face, thanks to the strong breeze. It smells like gasoline and fried food, which is now synonymous with freedom in my head.
"Give me about twenty minutes," she calls after me. "Get something for me too. Nothing with pickles."
