CAINE
The moment Fenris and, a few moments later, Randy, report Grace left without any sort of protection, my head pounds.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
Of course, she isn't alone; my wolf is stalking her without her knowing, mainly because she'd be furious if she did. Thankfully, humans don't have the superior senses of shifters; it isn't hard for Fenris to stay hidden.
I grind my teeth together so hard my jaw aches and turn to Dylan. "Pick up Grace. She's on her way to the laundromat."
Dylan's weathered face remains impassive, but his eyes flicker. "Which one?"
I stare him down, my patience hanging by a thread. The question strikes me as deliberately obtuse—there can't be that many laundromats in this backwater territory.
You'd be surprised.
The Lycan clears his throat. "I'll figure it out, then."
He leaves the room without another word, boots clicking against the floor in retreat.
