6: GREYSTONE

Lyra's pov

The car finally stops after what feels like hours of driving through increasingly dense forest, and when the gates swing open to let us through, all I can do is stare with my mouth hanging open like some country fool who's never seen anything grander than a wooden shack.

The Greystone pack house is massive.

Not just big—massive, easily five times the size of the Silverpine pack house I grew up in, all dark stone and towering windows that catch the afternoon light and throw it back like thousands of watchful eyes.

The main building sprawls across what must be acres of land, with smaller buildings clustered around it and everywhere I look there are wolves moving around with an ease and freedom I've never seen in my own pack.

No one looks nervous or afraid, no one is keeping their head down or hurrying to get out of sight—they just... exist, comfortably and confidently, like they belong here and know no one will question their right to that belonging.

It makes something twist painfully in my chest, this glimpse of what pack life could be like if it wasn't built on fear and oppression and the constant threat of punishment for stepping out of line.

The car doesn't stop at the main entrance where I can see other wolves coming and going through massive double doors.

Instead, we drive around to the back of the main pack house where another building stands—still enormous but somehow more private, set apart from the bustle of pack business.

A mansion, really, with three stories of dark stone and elegant windows and gardens that look like someone actually tends them with care instead of just letting them grow wild.

There are about fifteen people waiting outside the mansion, all of them with their heads bowed in formal greeting except for one man who's looking directly at the car as it rolls to a stop.

He's tall and broad-shouldered with light brown hair that's slightly too long and falls into his eyes when he tilts his head to watch me, and when I catch sight of his face through the car window my breath catches in my throat because he's smiling.

Actually smiling, warm and welcoming, like my arrival is something he's genuinely pleased about instead of an inconvenience he has to tolerate.

Didn't everyone say the Alpha was brutal and ruthless and so terrifying that even the Elders feared him? Surely this can't be him—surely the Alpha wouldn't be standing here smiling at me like I'm a guest he's happy to receive instead of cargo that's been delivered against everyone's wishes.

The guards open my door and I step out on shaky legs that haven't quite recovered from a week of sitting in a cell, and the smiling man steps forward with his hand extended like he means to help me if I need it but won't force the contact if I don't want it.

"Hello there," he says, and his voice is friendly and relaxed in a way that makes absolutely no sense given everything I've been told about this place. "You must be Lyra. Welcome to Greystone. I'm Ryder, Beta of this pack, and I apologize that I'm the one welcoming you instead of Alpha Matthias—he's currently indisposed with some territory business that couldn't wait."

Beta. Not Alpha. That makes more sense, explains the warmth and the smile and the general air of approachability that I definitely wouldn't expect from the monster everyone's been describing. I nod to show I understand, and I'm about to follow him toward the mansion when a movement from one of the upper windows catches my attention.

Someone is standing there, just visible behind the glass, watching us. I can't make out details from this distance but I can feel the weight of that gaze like a physical thing pressing down on my shoulders, and something in my chest responds with a flutter of warmth that doesn't make any sense at all.

"That's everyone from your previous pack sorted, then," Ryder says to the guards who accompanied me, his voice still friendly but with an edge underneath that suggests they should leave now before he stops being friendly. "You can head back. We'll take it from here."

The guards exchange glances, clearly uncomfortable with being dismissed so casually by someone who isn't an Elder, but after a moment they nod and return to their cars without argument.

I watch them drive away with something that feels horribly like relief mixed with terror because now I'm truly alone in a strange pack with no one I know and no way to communicate if something goes wrong.

"Come on," Ryder says gently, gesturing toward the mansion. "Let me show you around. I promise we're not nearly as scary as whatever stories you've probably heard."

He leads me inside through a side entrance, and if I thought the outside was impressive, the inside is something else entirely.

Everything is elegant and well-maintained, all dark wood and stone accents and furniture that looks like it was made by craftspeople who actually cared about their work.

The corridors are wide and well-lit, nothing like the cramped, dark hallways of the Silverpine pack house, and everywhere I look there are small touches that speak to comfort and care—fresh flowers in vases, windows that let in natural light, artwork on the walls that's actually beautiful instead of just functional.

Ryder walks slowly, pointing out important rooms as we pass them. The main kitchen where staff prepare meals for the Alpha and his closest advisors. A library that he says is open to anyone in the pack who wants to use it, which is such a foreign concept I almost stop walking entirely because in Silverpine only high-ranking wolves had access to books.

A formal dining room that he says mostly sits empty because the Alpha prefers to eat in his office or his private quarters.

"Now, this is important," Ryder says when we reach a corridor that branches off to the left, and his voice has shifted to something more serious. He points down the hallway without actually walking toward it. "That's the East Wing. It's off-limits to everyone except the Alpha, no exceptions. Don't go down there, don't try to peek in the windows, don't even really think about it too hard. Understand?"

I nod quickly because I understand completely—that must be where the Alpha's private quarters are, the place where he wants to be left alone to grieve his dead mate and child without anyone intruding on that pain.

I have no interest in going anywhere near a grieving Alpha's private space, so avoiding the East Wing seems like the easiest instruction I've ever been given.

"Good," Ryder says, and his smile returns as he leads me in the opposite direction. "Now let me show you your room."

We climb a staircase to the second floor and walk down another well-lit corridor until Ryder stops in front of a door and pushes it open, gesturing for me to go inside first.

I step through the doorway and stop dead because this cannot possibly be my room.

It's enormous—bigger than the entire space I shared with three other Omegas back in Silverpine, bigger than any room I've ever been in except maybe the Moon Tribunal Hall, and that was a public space not somewhere a person was supposed to actually live.

There's a sitting area near the windows with a couch and two chairs arranged around a low table, all of them covered in fabric that looks soft and expensive.

A massive bed dominates the far wall, easily big enough for three people to sleep comfortably with a thick mattress and pillows that look like clouds and blankets in deep blues and grays that probably cost more than I earned in a year as a healer's apprentice.

The windows themselves are huge, letting in afternoon light that makes everything glow warm and golden, and when I turn to look at the other side of the room I see a door that Ryder pushes open to reveal a bathroom that's bigger than my old room by itself, with a tub that looks deep enough to swim in and towels stacked neatly on shelves that smell like lavender and something else I can't identify.

"I know it's probably overwhelming," Ryder says, and his voice is gentle like he understands that I'm having trouble processing what I'm seeing. "But this is your space now. No one will come in without your permission, not even the Alpha. If you need anything—anything at all—just pull this cord here and someone from the staff will come check on you."

He shows me a thick rope hanging near the bed that presumably connects to some kind of bell system, then steps back toward the door with his hands in his pockets and that easy smile still on his face.

"I'll let you rest and settle in. Dinner will be brought to your room around sunset if you'd prefer to eat alone tonight, or you can join the staff in the main dining hall if you'd rather not be by yourself. Either way is fine, no pressure." He pauses at the door and his expression shifts to something more serious. "And Lyra? I know you probably heard a lot of scary stories about this place and about Alpha Matthias specifically. Some of them might even be true. But I promise you, you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you. Okay?"

I nod because what else can I do, and he nods back before stepping out and closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone in this enormous, beautiful room that I'm apparently supposed to just accept as mine.

I stand in the middle of the sitting area for a long moment, turning slowly to take it all in. This room alone is nicer than anywhere I've ever lived in my entire life, and I'm supposed to believe it's just mine, that no one will take it away or demand payment for it or use it as leverage to make me do things I don't want to do.

My legs give out without warning and I sink down onto the couch, which is exactly as soft as it looked, and I bury my face in my hands even though no sound comes out when I try to cry.

I don't know if this is better or worse than the cell.

At least in the cell I knew what I was—a prisoner waiting to die, a voiceless warning, a thing that had no value except as an example of what happens when you speak up. It was horrible but it was clear, and there's a strange comfort in clarity even when the reality is terrible.

But this? This beautiful room and the kind Beta and the massive pack house where wolves walk around like they're not afraid of being punished for existing? I don't know what to do with this, don't know how to reconcile it with everything I've been told about the brutal, ruthless Alpha who supposedly killed his own mate and child.

And underneath all of that confusion is the constant, gnawing awareness of why I'm really here—Elder Moira's cold smile, Oswin's broken body, the instructions to spy and report back or watch the only person who showed me kindness suffer for my disobedience.

I pull my knees up to my chest on the couch and wrap my arms around them, making myself small again even though there's no immediate threat, and I stare out the windows at the forest beyond while the afternoon light slowly fades to evening.

Somewhere in this massive pack house is the Alpha I'm supposed to be spying on, the brutal monster everyone fears, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to survive this when I can barely survive myself.