Chapter 39 039

Chapter 39 039
Chapter 39
Thalia's POV

Two weeks passed faster than I expected.

Working at Miller's became routine. I'd wake up early, eat breakfast at the inn, and walk to the store before it opened. Miller would already be there, sorting through the morning deliveries or updating his inventory logs.

We'd work through the day with a few breaks. Customers came and went. I learned their names and their usual orders. Mrs. Henderson always bought the same brand of tea. Old Thomas needed help carrying his supplies to his cart. The baker's son came in every Wednesday for flour and sugar.

It was simple work. Predictable.

I liked that.

My feet healed slowly. The blisters scabbed over and eventually disappeared. Ruth had given me some salve that helped with the soreness. I'd tried to pay her for it, but she'd waved me off.

"Consider it part of the room," she'd said.

I'd been staying at the inn for the entire two weeks. Ruth never pressured me to leave, and I always paid on time. We'd developed an easy rapport. She didn't ask questions about my past, and I didn't volunteer information.

On my fifteenth day in Greystone, something changed.

I was restocking shelves in the back corner of the store when I heard the bell chime. Miller was helping another customer, so I stayed where I was, organizing jars of preserves by date.

"Need to speak with Miller," a voice said.

It was a man's voice. Deep and authoritative. Something about it made me tense.

"He's with someone right now," I heard Miller's daughter Margaret say. She'd started coming back to help a few hours a day, bringing the baby with her. "Can I help you with something?"

"It's pack business," the man said.

I went very still.

"Oh," Margaret said. "Well, let me get him for you."

Footsteps approached the back room. Margaret appeared in the doorway, the baby sleeping against her shoulder.

"Thalia, can you watch the front for a minute?" she asked quietly. "There's a pack representative here to see my father."

My throat felt tight. "Sure."

I walked to the front of the store, keeping my eyes down. The man stood near the counter. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wand earing clothes that marked him as someone used to authority. Not from Varian's pack—the colors were different. Dark green instead of gray.

He glanced at me briefly, then dismissed me. I wasn't worth his attention.

I busied myself straightening items on a nearby shelf, staying within earshot.

Miller came out from the back. "What can I do for you?"

"Name's Garrett," the man said. "I'm from the Clearwater Pack. We've got territory about twenty miles east of here."

"I know it," Miller said carefully.

"We're expanding our patrols," Garrett continued. "Making sure the boundaries are respected. Your town sits right on the edge of neutral territory."

"It's been neutral for forty years," Miller said. "Never had any problems."

"Things change," Garrett said. "We want to make sure everyone understands the current arrangements. Any wolves passing through need to check in with us first. Anyone settling here needs to be registered."

My hands stopped moving.

"This is a human town," Miller said. His voice was calm but firm. "Always has been."

"Human towns don't exist in a vacuum," Garrett replied. "You've got pack lands on three sides. Someone needs to maintain order. That's our job."

"We maintain our own order just fine," Miller said.

Garrett smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure you do. But if you've got any wolves here—passing through or otherwise—we need to know about it. It's for everyone's safety."

"Haven't seen any wolves," Miller said.

Garrett's eyes swept the store. They passed over me again without stopping.

"Good," he said. "Let's keep it that way. Anyone shows up, you send word to our pack house. Understood?"

Miller nodded slowly. "Understood."

"Appreciate your cooperation," Garrett said. He turned and walked out, the bell chiming as the door closed behind him.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Miller stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Then he looked at me.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," I said quickly.

He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. "Margaret, you can come back out."

The rest of the day passed without incident, but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The presence of pack representatives this close to Greystone changed things.

When I got back to the inn that evening, Ruth was at the counter as usual.

"Heard there was a pack wof wolvesin town today," she said.

News traveled fast in a small town.

"He came to Miller's," I said.

"What'd he want?"

"To remind everyone about boundaries," I said. "And to ask about any wolves passing through."

Ruth's expression darkened. "They've been getting more aggressive lately. Clearwater Pack thinks they run everything around here."

"Do they?" I asked.

"They try," Ruth said. "Most folks here just want to be left alone. We don't want pack politics in our town."

I nodded slowly.

"You worried about something?" Ruth asked, looking at me directly.

"Should I be?"

She was quiet for a moment. "You're not from a pack, are you?"

My heart skipped. "What makes you say that?"

"You don't carry yourself like pa ack," she said. "Too cautious. Too aware of your surroundings. Pack wolves are confident because they've got backup. You move like someone who's on their own."

I didn't know what to say.

Ruth leaned forward slightly. "I'm not asking you to tell me your business. But if you're running from something, you should know that Greystone has a policy. We don't hand over people who don't want to be found. Not to packs, not to anyone."

"Even if the pack asks?"

"Even then," Ruth said. "We're neutral territory. Always have been. The packs can posture all they want, but they know better than to actually cause trouble here."

"Why?"

"Because if they did, they'd lose access to our town," Ruth explained. "And they need us more than we need them. We're the only neutral trading post for fifty miles. They start causing problems, we close our doors to them."

I processed that information slowly.

"So I'm safe here?" I asked.

"As safe as anywhere," Ruth said. "But you should know that being safe and being invisible are two different things. If you're going to stay, you'll need to decide which one matters more to you."

That night, I lay in bed thinking about Ruth's words.

I'd been invisible for two weeks. Keeping my head down, doing my work, not drawing attention. It had worked because Greystone was neutral and because no one had reason to look closely at me.

But Garrett's visit changed that. The packs were paying attention now.

I could leave. Pack up and move on before anyone sstartsasking questions. Find another town, another job, another temporary place to rest.

Or I could stay.

The thought surprised me. I hadn't planned to stay this long in the first place. Greystone was supposed to be a brief stop, a place to catch my breath before moving on.

But somewhere along the way, it had started to feel like more than that.

I liked working for Miller. I liked the routine. I liked knowing where I'd sleep each night and having enough food to eat. I liked Ruth's straightforward manner and Margaret's friendly conversation and the way customers nodded at me when they came into the store.

I liked feeling useful instead of like a burden.

The next morning, I went to work as usual. Miller didn't mention Garrett's visit, and neither did I. We worked in comfortable silence, restocking shelves and processing orders.

Around mid-morning, Margaret came in with the baby.

"Morning," she said cheerfully. "How's it going?"

"Good," I said.

She settled the baby in a basket behind the counter and started sorting through some paperwork. After a few minutes, she looked up at me.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure."

"Are you planning to stay in Greystone? Long-term, I mean."

The question caught me off guard. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because if you are," she said, "there's a cottage that just became available. Old Mrs. Peters passed last month, and her ffamily islooking to rent it out. It's small, but it's got good bones. And the rent's reasonable."

"I couldn't afford—"

"Two silver a week," Margaret interrupted. "That's less than what you're paying at the inn."

I did the math in my head. She was right.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

Margaret smiled. "Because you're good at your job, and my father likes you, and I think you could use a real place to stay instead of an inn room."

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Think fast," she said. "The Thompson family is interested too, and they've got three kids who'll probably destroy the place."

I smiled despite myself. "I'll think fast."

That afternoon, I walked past the cottage on my way back to the inn. It was small, like Margaret had said. Just one main room with a separate bedroom and a tiny kitchen. The yard was overgrown, and the shutters needed paint.

But it had a solid roof and a front porch.

It looked like a home.

I stood there for a long time, just looking at it.

Then I turned and walked back to the inn.

Ruth was at the counter.

"I need to talk to you about something," I said.

She looked up from her ledger. "Alright."

"If I stay here," I said slowly, "in Greystone. Long-term. Will that be a problem?"

Ruth set down her pen. "For who?"

"For anyone."

She considered the question seriously. "Might be. Might not be. Depends on whether you want to keep being invisible or if you're ready to actually live here."

"What's the difference?"

"Invisible means you're always looking over your shoulder," Ruth said. "Living here means you're part of the community. And communities protect their own."

I thought about that.

"There's a cottage," I said. "Margaret told me about it."

Ruth nodded. "I heard it was available."

"I think I want it."

"Then you should take it," Ruth said simply.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," she said. "Welcome to Greystone, Thalia."