Chapter 40 040
Chapter 40
Thalia's POV
I moved into the cottage three days later.
It didn't take long. I didn't have much—the pack I'd arrived with, a few items I'd bought from Miller's store, and some linens Ruth had given me as a parting gift from the inn.
"You'll still eat breakfast with us though," Ruth had insisted. "At least until you get properly settled."
I'd agreed, grateful for the connection.
The cottage was exactly as I'd seen it—small, slightly run-down, but sturdy. I spent the first day cleaning. Sweeping floors, washing windows, and airing out rooms that had been closed up for too long. The work felt good. Purposeful.
By evening, the place looked almost livable.
I sat on the front porch steps as the sun set, watching the street. A few people walked by. Some waved. Others nodded. Word had spread quickly that I'd taken the cottage. In a town this size, everything spreads quickly.
I was starting to understand what Ruth had meant about being part of the community.
The next week fell into a new routine. Work at Miller's during the day. Return to the cottage in the evening. Make simple meals in the tiny kitchen. Sleep in a bed that was actually mine.
It felt strange. Permanent in a way nothing had felt since I'd left the pack.
I tried not to think about what permanent meant. About whether I was actually staying or just pretending I could.
On the tenth day in the cottage, everything changed.
I was closing up at Miller's. Margaret had already left with the baby, and Miller was in the back doing final inventory counts. I was sweeping the front when I heard voices outside.
Male voices. Multiple.
The door opened before I could react.
Three men entered. They weren't local—I'd learned most of the faces in town by now. These men moved differently. With the kind of confidence that came from authority and strength.
Pack wolves.
The one in front was older than the others, maybe in his late thirties. Dark hair with gray at the temples. Sharp eyes that took in everything. He wore well-made clothes, the kind that spoke of wealth and position.
Behind him stood two younger men. Guards, probably. They flanked him like shadows.
"We're closed," I said, keeping my voice steady.
The frontman smiled. It wasn't a warm smile.
"I'm not here to shop," he said.
Miller appeared from the back room. He saw the men and went still.
"Alpha Cyrus," he said carefully. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Alpha.
My grip tightened on the broom handle.
"Miller," Cyrus said, nodding slightly. "Sorry to intrude after hours. I'm looking for someone."
"Who's that?" Miller asked.
Cyrus's eyes moved to me. They stayed there.
"I heard there's a new wolf in town," he said. "Young woman. Been here about three weeks."
My heart hammered in my chest.
"Greystone's a neutral town," Miller said. "People come and go. We don't keep track of everyone's business."
"Of course not," Cyrus said pleasantly. "But this particular wolf is interesting. No pack scent. No markings. Alone." His eyes never left me. "That's unusual, wouldn't you say?"
"I wouldn't know," Miller said.
Cyrus took a step toward me. His guards remained by the door.
"What's your name?" he asked.
I considered lying. Decided against it. "Thalia."
"Thalia," he repeated, like he was tasting the word. "Pretty name. Which pack are you from?"
"I'm not from a pack," I said.
"Everyone's from a pack," Cyrus said. "Even if they leave."
I said nothing.
"Varian's pack," Cyrus said slowly, watching my face. "That's where you're from, isn't it?"
I kept my expression neutral, but something must have shown because he smiled again.
"I thought so," he said. "I heard he exiled someone recently. A female who caused problems with his mate."
"You heard wrong," I said.
"Did I?" Cyrus tilted his head. "So you're not the one who put hands on Shelly? Who refused to apologize? Who walked away from pack lands with nothing but a pack on her back?"
Miller shifted uncomfortably. "Alpha Cyrus, as I said, this is neutral territory—"
"I'm aware," Cyrus interrupted, his tone still pleasant but with an edge now. "I'm not here to cause trouble, Miller. Just having a conversation."
He turned his full attention back to me.
"You know what's interesting about wolves without packs?" he said. "They're vulnerable. No protection. No resources. No one to watch their back." He paused. "It's dangerous out here alone."
"I'm managing," I said.
"For now," he agreed. "But winter's coming. Work will dry up. Food will be harder to come by. And humans—" He glanced at Miller. "No offense—humans can only offer so much security."
"I don't need security," I said.
"Everyone needs security," Cyrus replied. "That's what packs are for. Family. Protection. Purpose."
"I had that," I said quietly. "It didn't work out."
"Because you were in the wrong pack," Cyrus said. "Varian's always been too rigid. Too concerned with appearances and politics. His pack operates on fear, not loyalty."
I didn't respond.
"My pack is different," Cyrus continued. "The Clearwater Pack values strength, yes. But also independence. Initiative. We reward wolves who think for themselves instead of punishing them."
"Is that what this is?" I asked. "A recruitment pitch?"
Cyrus laughed. It sounded genuine. "In a manner of speaking. I'm always interested in wolves with potential. And you, Thalia—you have potential. You stood up to an Alpha's mate. Refused to back down even when it cost you everything. That takes courage."
"Or stupidity," I said.
"Sometimes they're the same thing," he said. "But I prefer to think of it as a strength. The kind of strength my pack could use."
Miller cleared his throat. "It's late, Alpha Cyrus. I need to finish closing up."
Cyrus ignored him. His eyes stayed locked on mine.
"Think about it," he said. "You could keep living here, scraping by on daily wages, always looking over your shoulder. Or you could join a pack that would actually appreciate what you have to offer."
"I'm not interested," I said.
"Not yet," Cyrus corrected. "But you will be. This town is comfortable now, while the weather's good and work is steady. Wait until the first snow. Wait until you realize how isolated you really are."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card. He set it on the counter near me.
"When you're ready to talk," he said, "come find me. The offer stands."
He turned and walked toward the door. His guards followed.
At the threshold, he paused and looked back.
"One more thing," he said. "Varian's pack borders mine to the north. If he finds out you're living this close to his territory—even in a neutral town—he might take issue with it. Just something to consider."
Then he was gone.
The bell chimed as the door closed behind them.
Miller and I stood in silence for a long moment.
"You alright?" Miller finally asked.
"Fine," I said automatically.
He looked at me with concern. "Thalia—"
"I'm fine," I repeated, more firmly.
Miller nodded slowly. "Alright. But if you need anything..."
"I know," I said. "Thank you."
I finished sweeping quickly, not really seeing what I was doing. When I was done, I said goodnight to Miller and walked back to the cottage.
The card felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket.
I didn't take it out until I was inside with the door locked behind me.
It was simple. Heavy paper with elegant script. Just a name—Alpha Cyrus Clearwater—and an address.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I walked to the small fireplace and tossed it into the cold ashes.
I didn't need another pack. I didn't need another Alpha making decisions about my life.
But Cyrus's words echoed in my head anyway.
"Wait until you realize how isolated you really are."
I sat down at the small table and put my head in my hands.
He was right about one thing. I was isolated. No pack bond. No family. No real connections except for the fragile ones I'd built here in Greystone.
And if Varian found out where I was...
I pushed the thought away.
I'd deal with that if it happened. For now, I had work. I had a roof over my head. I had a community that seemed willing to accept me.
It was enough.
It had to be enough.
Outside, the sun finished setting. Darkness crept over the town. I lit a candle and sat in its small circle of light, trying not to think about Alphas and packs and the precarious safety of neutral ground.
Trying not to wonder how long I could really stay invisible.
And trying very hard not to think about the way Cyrus had looked at me—like I was something valuable he intended to acquire.
Whether I wanted to be acquired or not.