Chapter 8: Grace: Exhausted

Chapter 8: Grace: ExhaustedAs it turns out, there's some sort of massive event happening. The Lycan King is coming.

No one knows why, but there are a lot of whispers. He's been without a new mate for a long time, and has no heir. He's probably on the


"There's no time to sleep. The kitchens need scrubbing before the Lycan King arrives. Can't have any human stink offending his royal nose, can we?"

My heart sinks. "But I haven't eaten—"



"Not my problem." Margo's dismissiveness is cold. "Now get moving."

I shuffle towards the kitchen, my body screaming in protest. The thought of hours of more work makes me want to cry.

The kitchen is a disaster zone. Pots and pans piled high, counters sticky with spills, floors caked with who-knows-what.

It's clear no one's done a thing while I wasn't around.

I grab a sponge and get to work, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness in my stomach.

As I scrub, my mind drifts back to the Lycan King's last visit. I was barely thirteen, peeking through the curtains as sleek black cars rolled up the driveway. The wolves that emerged were nothing like our pack. They moved with a fluid grace that spoke of power beyond anything I'd ever seen.

One of them—a tall, imposing figure with eyes that seemed to glow—had looked right at my window. I'd ducked away, heart pounding, Alpha's warnings ringing in my ears.

Now, years later, the thought of facing those wolves without even the illusion of Alpha's protection sends a chill down my spine. Where can I possibly hide? Alpha always told me to stay hidden during their visit. They hate humans.

My arms ache as I attack a particularly stubborn stain. Maybe I could sneak into one of the unused storage sheds on the outskirts of pack territory. It would be cramped and uncomfortable, but at least I'd be out of sight.

For some reason, as I clean the kitchen from top to bottom, my arms and back screaming with the effort, I can't shake the feeling of those glowing eyes looking my way.