Chapter One: New Shoes, Old Secrets

Lily

I should’ve taken the creepy wrought iron gate as a sign. Not just a red flag, but the whole damn marching band. My rideshare driver didn’t even wait for me to get both feet out before he sped off, tires screeching as if the forest itself was trying to claw him back. The trees lining the gravel path leaned in like gossiping witches, their gnarled limbs reaching for me with curiosity—or hunger.

The Greyhowl Estate rose from the mist like something pulled from the spine of a Gothic horror novel. Massive, looming, and utterly disinterested in modern life. It didn’t welcome me. It

assessed

me.

“Welcome to the Greyhowl Estate,” I whispered to myself. My words vanished in the chilled air, stolen by the fog that curled around my boots like curious snakes.

I tightened my hoodie around my frame and tried not to shake. Not from the cold—no. From something else. The place had a pulse. Not metaphorical, either. I

felt

it. Like the earth beneath the estate had a heartbeat. And for some stupid reason, mine was syncing to it.

New job. New life. New version of Lily, the one who didn’t flinch when men raised their voices or hesitate when making decisions. That’s what I told myself. Over and over.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

Marcy [BFF]:

You alive? Blink twice if kidnapped by sexy vampires.

Lily:

Alive. I think. This place? It's straight out of a cursed fairytale. Like if Dracula and the Beast co-signed a mortgage.

Marcy:

Omg STOP. Sexy castle or creepy?

Lily:

Both. Very… thick vibes. If I disappear, avenge me.

Before I could hit send, the door creaked open.

A tall woman stepped out. Sharp cheekbones. Impeccable posture. Dressed like a corporate villainess in black-on-black. Her dark eyes skimmed over me like I was a gum stain on marble.

“You’re late,” she said, voice flat, accent vague and expensive.

“I’m Lily,” I offered with my best ‘please don’t eat me’ smile. “My GPS took me to a barn. I may have joined a chicken cult.”

She blinked once.

“I’m Celeste. House Manager. Come.”

She turned and disappeared into the mansion like she expected me to follow without question. And I did. Because, apparently, I’m that girl now.

The doors groaned shut behind me with the finality of a sealed tomb.

Inside, it was colder. Colder than outside. Despite the roaring fireplace, the air had that museum quality—preserved and haunted. Dark wood walls. Chandeliers dripping with crystals. Paintings that watched you.

One, I swear,

smirked.

“You’ll have quarters on the east wing,” Celeste said, heels echoing on marble. “There are house rules. No one enters the West Wing. No wandering after 10 PM. No social media. And under no circumstances are you to approach the Alpha.”

I stumbled, literally.

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The Alpha,” she repeated. “Head of this household. He is not to be disturbed.”

Okay. So

that

kind of estate.

Not just rich—alpha rich. The kind of old-money brooding power that came with whisper networks, secret staircases, and staff that disappeared for asking the wrong question.

“Of course,” I said, and mentally filed that under: “Shit I will absolutely ignore if someone’s bleeding.”

She led me through a maze of hallways. Portraits, ornate rugs, weirdly cold air. I felt watched. Not in the ‘too many cameras’ way. In the ‘I might be prey’ way.

We passed an enormous double door with iron vines snaking across its face.

“West Wing,” she said, like that explained anything.

Duly noted.

My room was… bigger than expected. A four-poster bed. Antique vanity. Fireplace crackling with heatless flame. It felt like stepping into someone else’s memory. There was even a dressing gown laid out for me.

Mrs. Halloway, the head housekeeper, handed me a name badge and a clipboard of cleaning assignments. She had the eyes of someone who used to smile but hadn’t in years.

I started in the north corridor, dusting windows and trying not to touch anything that looked like it had feelings. Everything was just a little

too

silent. Like the house was holding its breath.

When I reached the library, I paused.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Velvet chairs. A spiral staircase. It was breathtaking. Smelled like leather and citrus and something deeper—something animal.

I stepped inside and got to work. But the moment I climbed the ladder to reach the top shelf, I felt it again.

Eyes.

Someone watching me.

The air shifted behind me. My skin prickled.

I turned—and there he was.

Tall. Still. Dressed in black. Muscles taut beneath his button-down. Raven hair tousled like a storm had passed through it. His eyes—moonlight and smoke—met mine.

Time shattered.

The world dropped away.

My mouth went dry.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just

looked

at me.

Possessed me.

My legs trembled. My heart skidded.

I swallowed. “Sorry. I was just… dusting.”

His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared.

For a second, something wild flickered in those eyes. Something that said:

I know you. I’ve tasted you before.

And then—he turned.

Walked away.

Left me gasping like I’d nearly drowned.

I stood frozen, hand gripping the ladder, body humming with something I didn’t understand.

I looked down at my phone.

Lily:

I just saw the Alpha.

Marcy:

IS HE HOT?!

Lily:

He looked at me like I was a

meal. And not in a fun, brunch way. Like… like he already owned me.

I hit send, then locked my phone. It felt stupid. Too normal. Too safe. Because nothing about this was safe.

And somehow…

I didn’t want it to be.