Chapter 27 Am I What?
Grace was bundled away before she could fully process what she'd just witnessed.
Amongst the men were wolves and one of them turned back into a man!
Werewolves.
They were werewolves.
All of them. Zion, the silver-haired man, the others who had attacked the truck and freed the captives. They'd moved with inhuman speed, fought with strength that shouldn't have been possible, and when that one man had roared, the sound had been nothing like anything a human throat could produce.
And Zion. Enzo's cousin. Which meant Enzo was
probably one too.
‘Enzo is a werewolf.’
The thought should have terrified her. Should have sent her running in the opposite direction, screaming for help, questioning everything she knew about the world.
But instead, all Grace could think was that they'd saved her. Had saved all of them. The masked men who'd taken her, who'd chained her up in that truck like an animal, were lying on the ground behind them.
Which meant Zion and his people, whatever they were, had to be the good guys.
Right?
Grace was pushed along with the other captives toward the road, away from the truck and the violence that had just taken place. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, and the adrenaline that had been keeping her upright was starting to fade, replaced by exhaustion and confusion.
One of the men who'd helped free them was walking past, and without thinking, Grace reached out and grabbed his shirt.
He stopped, turning to look at her. He was tall, muscular, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to glow faintly, they were not human eyes but Wolf eyes.
"Who were they?" Grace asked, her voice hoarse, "The people who kidnapped us. Who were they?"
The man looked her up and down, his expression hesitant. Like he was deciding whether to answer, whether she could handle the truth. Then his gaze lingered on her face, something shifting in his expression, almost like spite.
"Rogue wolves," he said finally, his voice low. "They hunt weaker wolves and sell them to the highest bidder."
Grace's blood went cold. "Weaker wolves?"
But the man was already pulling away, already moving toward the others. "You should get out of here," he called over his shoulder. "It's not safe."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows with the same unnatural speed she'd seen from the others.
Grace stood frozen in place, her mind struggling to process what he'd just said.
Weaker wolves.
Not weaker people. Not weaker captives.
Wolves.
Which meant the people who'd been in that truck with her, they weren't human either.
They were werewolves.
And if those men had taken her, if they'd specifically come to her house looking for her, if they'd chained her up with the others and planned to sell her, that meant they thought she was a wolf too.
A weaker wolf.
Grace's legs gave out, and she sank to her knees on the gravel, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
No. That couldn't be right. That didn't make any sense.
She was human. Just a normal girl trying to survive high school and deal with her messed-up family and figure out what she wanted to do with her life.
She wasn't a werewolf. Werewolves weren't even real.
Except they were. She'd just seen proof of that. Had seen people move faster than should be possible, fight with inhuman strength, had heard sounds no human could make.
And if they were real, then maybe she was one too.
The thought made her want to vomit.
"Are you alright?"
Grace looked up to find Willow standing over her, the young girl who'd been chained next to her in the truck. Her face was still pale, still exhausted, but there was concern in her eyes.
"I don't know," Grace whispered, "I don't know what I am."
Willow's expression softened with something like understanding. "You didn't know before, did you? Before they took you."
Grace shook her head.
"I'm sorry," Willow said quietly. "That's a hard way to find out."
Before Grace could respond, someone called out to Willow telling them to hurry it up.
"Come on," Willow said, offering Grace her hand, "We need to get out of here before more of them come."
Grace took her hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. They were walking towards the trucks that the people who’d saved them drove when Zion suddenly appeared in front of them.
"Where are you going?"
Willow had to catch herself from stumbling at the sudden appearance, "She's coming with us." She said and held Grace firmly.
"No, she can't," the silver-haired man seemingly came from nowhere, "She can't come with us."
Grace frowned as Willow raised her voice, "What do you mean she isn't coming? We can't just leave her here!"
"She's not allowed where we’re going."
Willow was about to protest further when someone spoke up, "I can take her."
They all turned and saw an old woman who had been observing them, she had white hair that had been pulled tightly into a bun and sharp features. Grace wondered where she came from but she shared a nod with the white-haired man and Grace just assumed they knew each other, she was feeling too tired to argue and also feeling hurt at being turned away, so she nodded.
"What do you mean—"
"It's fine, Willow." Grace smiled and assured her that she would be fine.
They all left, not before Willow turned to her and gave her a hug then squeezed her hand before leaving.
Grace followed behind the old woman to where a smaller car was parked and inside was a little girl.
"Never mind her," the old woman said, "We would be dropping her off as well."
The little girl smiled weakly, looking quite pale, and shifted to make space for Grace to get in the back seat with her while the old woman took the front, starting the engine.
Grace turned away and hugged her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking that had started in her limbs. She knew both the old woman and little girl were wolves, the thought was crazy as she observed the little girl through her peripheral vision.
Suddenly, she was so much more aware of the vibe wolves had.
The car drove for what felt like hours through the night and that’s when Grace started to notice something was very wrong.
The night air should have been cold. She was still wearing her school uniform, and the wind created by the car’s movement should have been making her teeth chatter.
Instead, she felt like she was burning up, heat radiated from her skin in waves that made the air around her shimmer. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her spine, it soaked through her shirt until it clung to her body. Her heart was racing, pounding so hard and fast she could feel it in her throat, in her temples, in her wrists.
And there was this ache. This deep, insistent ache low in her belly that made her want to squirm, made her press her thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the pressure.
Grace’s mind drifted without her permission, pulling up memories she didn’t want to think about. Memories of Enzo’s hands on her skin, his mouth on hers. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress. The feeling of him inside her, that perfect terrible pressure that had made everything else disappear.
‘Stop it,’ Grace told herself firmly, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Stop thinking about that.’
But her body didn’t listen. The memories kept coming, vivid and overwhelming. The way he’d kissed her was like he was trying to devour her. The sounds he’d made, low and rough in her ear. The way his hands had known exactly where to touch to make her gasp, make her moan, make her forget her own name.
Grace’s breathing quickened, her hands clenching into fists. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only made it worse. Made her more aware of the heat pooling between her legs, of the way her body seemed to be crying out for something she couldn’t name.
‘What is wrong with me?’
This wasn’t normal. This level of arousal, this inability to control her own thoughts, her own body, it wasn’t normal.
Unless it was another part of being whatever she was. Another symptom of this nightmare she’d stumbled into.
“You’re really pretty.”
Grace’s eyes snapped open to find the little girl staring at her with wide, curious eyes.
“What?” Grace’s voice came out rougher than she intended.
“You’re really pretty,” she repeated, a small smile on her face. “And your eyes are glowing. They look like moonlight.”
Grace blinked, confusion cutting through the haze of heat. “My eyes are what?”
She turned to look at her reflection in the car’s half-open rear window. And froze.
Her eyes were glowing.
Actually, genuinely glowing with a soft silver light that seemed to emanate from within. The grey of her irises had brightened to an almost luminescent quality, and her pupils were so dilated they looked like black holes surrounded by rings of light.
“What the hell?” Grace whispered, leaning closer to the glass.
“Stop bothering her, Aylin.” The old woman said from the front.
“But I’m not,” Aylin said, giggling. “I just think she looks pretty.”
Grace could barely hear them as she looked at her reflection, she looked almost feral. Wild. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, her lips parted as she panted for breath. And those eyes, those glowing silver eyes, they didn’t look human at all.
They looked like wolf eyes.
The older woman suddenly gasped, a sharp intake of breath that made Grace turn toward her.
The woman’s hand had flown up to cover her nose and mouth, and she was staring at Grace with wide eyes that held a mixture of concern and something that looked almost like fear.
“Oh dear,” the woman said, her voice muffled behind her hand. “Oh dear, this is very bad.”
Grace felt a spike of panic cut through the boiling she felt. “What? What’s bad?”
The woman didn’t lower her hand. If anything, she pressed it more firmly against her face, like she was trying to block out a terrible smell.
“Child,” the woman said slowly, carefully, “are you in heat?”
Grace’s mind went blank. “Am I what?”