Chapter 109
Freya's POV
The morning after Martha left, Grey Estate felt colder, more unwelcoming than ever before. I stood by my attic window, watching the sunrise cast long shadows across the manicured gardens below. The estate was coming alive with activity—Beta wolves hurrying across the grounds, Omega workers tending to the gardens—yet I felt utterly alone.
I caught glimpses of the other staff members glancing up at my window, their expressions ranging from cold indifference to barely concealed curiosity. News traveled fast in a wolf pack. Everyone knew Martha had been dismissed because of me, and no one wanted to be next.
With a sigh, I turned away from the window. This was nothing new. This isolation, this feeling of being an outsider—it had been my constant companion for the past three years. In the Forgotten Wilds, I'd been alone because other exiles feared association with a Riley. Here at Grey Estate, I was alone because the staff feared Thorne's inexplicable interest in me.
"Just another form of exile", my wolf whispered.
I needed air, space to breathe without feeling dozens of judging eyes on me. The gardens would be relatively empty this early. Perhaps I could find some peace among the plants, away from the sidelong glances and whispered comments.
Grabbing a pair of garden shears I'd noticed in the small utility closet near my room, I made my way downstairs. The morning staff parted before me like water around a stone, careful not to touch me, not to engage. I kept my head high, pretending their avoidance didn't sting.
Outside, the air was crisp with morning dew. I headed toward the rose garden on the eastern side of the estate, where Martha had once told me I could find solitude. The roses would need pruning, and focusing on something physical might help quiet the storm in my mind.
For nearly an hour, I lost myself in the methodical work of trimming dead stems and shaping the bushes. The scent of earth and greenery calmed my wolf, reminding us both of simpler times. Before the exile. Before Thorne Grey had torn my life apart with a single judgment.
When I finally returned to the house, my hands were scratched from thorns, but my mind felt clearer. I climbed the stairs to my attic room, planning to wash up before starting my official duties. As I approached my door, a movement caught my eye.
Lucy was slipping out of my room, quietly pulling the door closed behind her.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice sharper than intended.
She startled, spinning around with wide eyes that quickly narrowed into slits of animosity. "Cleaning," she said with an artificial sweetness. "It's my job."
"My room isn't on your cleaning schedule." I knew this for certain; Martha had shown me the staff rotation charts before she left.
Lucy tossed her head, her Beta confidence returning now that the initial surprise had passed. "I was looking for things that don't belong to you," she said. "Martha might have left something behind, and since she was fired—"
"Anything Martha gave me was a gift," I interrupted, stepping closer. The wolf inside me bristled at this invasion of my small territory.
"Was it?" Lucy sneered. "She was dismissed for helping you. She shouldn't have left anything behind for a..." she paused, her eyes flicking to the moon-silver mark on my neck, "...a criminal."
Something snapped inside me. After years of enduring slights and insults, after losing Martha—my only ally—after everything I'd suffered, I was done being passive.
"Get out of my way," I growled, feeling my eyes flash gold with wolf anger.
Lucy didn't move, her lips curling in a mocking smile. "Or what? You'll attack me like you attacked Miss Kaelin? Everyone knows what you are, Riley. A violent, unstable—"
My hand moved before I could stop it. The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the narrow hallway. Lucy staggered back, her hand flying to her face, shock replacing her smug expression.
"I've tolerated your attitude because I had something to lose," I said, my voice dangerously low. "But now? Martha's gone. There's nothing left here that I care about. So push me again, Lucy. See what happens."
Lucy's eyes widened, then narrowed with a wolf's calculating menace. "You'll regret this," she hissed. "I won't forget, Freya. You'd better watch your back."
I stepped closer, using my slightly taller height to look down at her. For once, I didn't try to appear smaller or less threatening. I let her see the wolf that had survived three years in the Forgotten Wilds.
"Good," I said. "I hope you remember. And I hope you remember this too—I'm waiting right here. If you want to try something, come ahead. But unless you can send me back to the Wilds, you'd better be prepared for what I'll do to you in return."
She backed away, her bravado cracking under the weight of my threat. I could smell her fear now, sharp and acrid beneath her expensive perfume. She wasn't used to prey that fought back.
"This isn't over," she muttered as she retreated down the hallway.
"It never is," I replied, watching her go.
When she was out of sight, I entered my room and closed the door, leaning against it as my momentary courage drained away. My hand trembled slightly—I'd never struck anyone before, not even in the Wilds. But the intrusion into my small, private space had triggered something primal in me, something I couldn't fully control.
I scanned the room carefully, nostrils flaring as I tried to detect what Lucy might have touched or taken. My wolf's senses, sharper than most due to my Riley bloodline, picked up Lucy's scent near my bed and the small dresser where I kept my few possessions.
With growing anxiety, I checked the hiding place where I kept Martha's key, relief washing over me when I found it still there. Next, I examined the small leather pouch containing the money Thorne had given me—also untouched. Finally, I looked under the loose floorboard where I'd hidden my design sketches for the Silverstone Pack competition, the ones I'd been working on despite Thorne's prohibition.
They were still there, but the papers had been disturbed. Someone had looked at them and hastily returned them.
I sat heavily on the edge of my bed, my mind racing. Why was Lucy snooping in my room? Was she just being spiteful, or was she looking for something specific? And most importantly, who had sent her?
The answer came immediately: Kaelin. Lucy had always been closer to Kaelin than to Thorne. This had to be Kaelin's way of keeping tabs on me, perhaps looking for ammunition to use against me.
“I can't stay here”, my wolf whispered. “Not in this room where anyone can enter.”
A memory surfaced—Martha mentioning that her room would now be vacant. It was smaller than some of the other staff quarters, but it had one crucial advantage: a lock on the door.
I made my decision quickly. Gathering my few belongings wouldn't take long. I'd speak to Edith and request the room change. As a working member of the household, even one with my complicated status, I had the right to safe accommodation.
But first, I needed to confront what had just happened. I'd struck a Beta wolf, one favored by Kaelin Brooks. There would be consequences, and I needed to be prepared.
“Why did I lose control?” I wondered, examining my still-tingling palm. The answer came with startling clarity: because I was tired of being powerless. In the Wilds, despite the hardship, I'd had agency. Here, under Thorne's watchful eye, with Kaelin's constant schemes and the staff's hostility, I felt trapped in a different kind of exile.