Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 181: Grace: Removed

Feeling a little nauseated, I tap at the notification.

[This message thread has been removed for multiple Plausibility violations.]

I blink at my phone. The error message stares back.

"What the hell?" I mutter, tapping the screen again as if that might fix it. It doesn’t. The entire conversation—gone. Like it never existed.

My thumb hovers uncertainly over the back button, my eyes drawn to the new direct messages sent my way, from Wrath and Madness.

Sounds like a fun time. Not.

Wrath’s message draws my attention first, and I open it.

The message thread loads, revealing a string of increasingly agitated texts:

[WRATH: ??????]

[WRATH: Who are you?]

[WRATH: How did you get into our group?]

[WRATH: ANSWER ME.]

[WRATH: I swear if you’re another one of Chaos’s little playthings I will PERSONALLY come find you.]

[WRATH: ??????????]

I stare at the barrage of question marks and threats. Whoever—whatever—Wrath is, they clearly have anger management issues. Their name is appropriate.

Ignoring this would probably be the smart option.

Instead, I find myself typing.

[GRACE HARPER: I didn’t ask to be added to your group. I just got a notification saying I was invited.]

The reply comes instantly, like they were staring at their phone waiting.

[WRATH: WHO INVITED YOU?]

[GRACE HARPER: I don’t know.]

[WRATH: USELESS]

He seems to love caps lock.

[GRACE HARPER: Is Lyrielle’s nickname Lyre?]

I hit send before I can overthink it. Three dots appear, bounce, then disappear. Then reappear. Wrath seems to be typing and deleting multiple responses.

Finally:

[WRATH: Who wants to know?]

Oh, for—

[GRACE HARPER: Me. Obviously. I’m asking because I know someone named Lyre and I’m trying to figure out if she’s the Lyrielle from your fan club.]

There’s a longer pause this time. I glance up to check our surroundings. Andrew’s focused on the road, and dark clouds are rolling in quickly. But it looks like we’re only a couple miles from our exit now.

Right on cue, the walkie talkie crackles, and Caine says, "Exit in two miles." noveldrama

Andrew’s the one to grab the unit and respond. "Understood."

There’s a flash of lightning in the distance.

My phone vibrates.

[WRATH: Are you with her now?]

[GRACE HARPER: No.]

Obviously. Or else why would I be asking him?

[WRATH: Has she mentioned any of us?]

[GRACE HARPER: No. Look, I just want to know if Lyre is Lyrielle. Yes or no?]

[WRATH: Who the fuck are you?]

Obviously, I’m getting nowhere. So I back out of the message and into the one sent by Madness.

[MADNESS: Hello darling~]

[MADNESS: Welcome to the club~]

[MADNESS: If you have pictures, share them with me~]

[MADNESS: <(’o’)>]

What the fuck is the last message supposed to be?

Giving up, I go to exit the app, only to see another flood of messages.

[WRATH: Come back.]

[WRATH: I’m sorry, I’ll be nice.]

[WRATH: We’re just curious.]

[WRATH: Come back, Grace Harper. We don’t hurt mortals.]

[WRATH: Come back! We’re curious about Lyrielle and she never talks to us anymore.]

[WRATH: I didn’t realize who you were. We don’t pay attention to mortal names.]

My eye twitches. Wrath kind of feels... annoying?

Whatever it is, I have the strong sense getting involved with him will only be to my disadvantage, so I click out. No more messaging people on this bizarre app. They’re all strange. No; they’re bizarre.

Maybe being divinities does something to their brains.

If that’s the case, Lyre’s shockingly normal. Owen, too.

"...Grace?"

Jerking my head in Andrew’s direction, I ask, "Sorry, what?"

"I said, do you want me to get the stuff for the cat while you guys get the camper ready?"

"Oh." Blinking out the window, I realize we’re about to turn off onto the exit for our chosen Walmart stay. "Yes. That would be great, thank you. Litter box, litter, cat food, a kennel for travel—"

"Why a kennel? It seems to be just fine in your lap."

I hesitate. "I don’t know. Just in case. What if it gets curious and gets under your feet?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, that would be a problem. Sadie’s too big to get under there."

I rest my head on my hand and stare out the window, watching as tiny raindrops hit the windshield.

Shockingly, everyone’s still asleep, even as the car slows.

Andrew leans forward in his seat, squinting upward at the charcoal clouds swirling above us. "Looks like it’s here."

"Isn’t it a little early, though? It’s only six." I check my phone screen to confirm. We made good time, too. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit for another hour or two.

"Well, it isn’t a downpour yet. We’ll have to hurry before it becomes one." He flips the wipers on low as more droplets pepper the windshield, leaving streaky trails across the glass.

Somehow, it’s worse to see with the wipers than without.

The walkie talkie crackles to life again. Caine’s deep voice cuts through the static: "It’s starting to rain."

My lips quirk. His sense of observation is as keen as always.

Snatching the receiver before Andrew can, I drawl, "We see it."

"Just making sure."

I set the walkie talkie back in the center console, unable to contain the grin spreading across my face.

"You really like him, don’t you?" Andrew asks.

I blink, caught off guard by the question. He keeps his eyes on the road, but his fingers drum against the steering wheel.

His eyes flick to me, then back to driving.

"I mean, you’re smiling like crazy right now just from hearing him talk," he adds.

My hand flies to my cheek, feeling the warmth there. Am I really that transparent? The thought makes my skin prickle with self-consciousness. I hadn’t realized I was so obvious.

"There’s nothing wrong with smiling," I say defensively.

The white cat shifts in my lap, settling into a more comfortable position as we brake to a stop.

His shoulders hunch. "No, there isn’t. I was just..." He sighs. "Sorry. I guess I was meddling a little too much. It’s just hard not to worry about you."

I eye him suspiciously.

"You worry more about me now than you did when Rafe threw me away."

He flinches. "I’m sorry," he says quietly. But at least he doesn’t make up excuses.

I wave a hand dismissively, already regretting bringing it up. "Stop. I don’t even want to think about the past anymore."

It’s already bad enough we’re going back.