Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 45

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."

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

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