Every movement of the man driving the car was calm—measured, calculated, controlled.
Even the way his hands gripped the steering wheel felt deliberate.
We were on our way to the place where I would be living from now on.
The estate of the Reighton Pack.
The word estate didn't feel real to me. It sounded too grand, too distant—like something that belonged in stories, not in my life.
Silence filled the car.
He focused on the road, his posture straight, his expression serious and unreadable.
I sat quietly in the back seat, my hands folded tightly on my lap, watching the passing scenery blur through the tinted windows.
Neither of us spoke.
It felt like the silence wasn't empty—it was heavy.
Earlier, Laila had helped me pack the few things I owned and escorted me out of the hospital. She had been more excited than I was, practically glowing as she adjusted my coat and fixed my hair.
"You're so lucky," she had whispered with a grin. "It's my dream to live in the Reighton estate."
Lucky.
If only she knew how ironic that sounded.
Before I left, she also told me the name of the man who would be taking me there.
Raven.
He was the one who had stood beside Kazer during their visit. The silent one. The man whose gaze had been just as cold, just as unreadable.
I had been hesitant to speak to him.
Aside from Kazer, Raven had been the most emotionless that day. He hadn't looked irritated like the others. He hadn't smirked like Zython.
He had simply observed me.
Quietly.
Thoroughly.
As if memorizing me.
The car slowed as the traffic light turned red.
We stopped.
The engine hummed softly.
"Do you want to say something?"
His voice was calm.
Controlled.
Deep, but not loud.
I froze.
My eyes widened slightly at the sudden sound of him speaking.
For a brief second, our gazes met in the rearview mirror.
His dark eyes locked onto mine.
Sharp.
Assessing.
Then, before I could answer, the light turned green, and he shifted his attention back to the road as if nothing had happened.
My heart was pounding.
He must have noticed.
The way I had been glancing at him from time to time.
The way my lips would part slightly like I was about to speak, only to close again.
This was my chance.
I had questions.
So many questions.
Why me?
Why am I being taken there?
What do you want from me?
What am I to your pack?
But the words felt heavy in my throat.
Fear wrapped around them like chains.
What if the answers were worse than my imagination?
What if asking only made things harder?
In the end, I lowered my head.
"Nothing important." I whispered softly, even though I wasn't sure he heard me.
The silence returned.
Thicker than before.
We drove for several more minutes until something massive appeared in front of us.
A tall, black iron gate.
High and imposing.
The metal gleamed under the sunlight, polished and intimidating.
And carved boldly at the center in thick, metallic letters were the words:
REIGHTONPACK.
My breath hitched.
Before Raven even slowed down, the gates began to open automatically.
They parted smoothly, silently, like they had been expecting us.
Like they had been expecting me.
The sight made something twist painfully in my stomach.
We drove inside.
The road beyond the gate stretched endlessly ahead of us, long and perfectly paved. Lush trees lined both sides, tall and symmetrical, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze.
It didn't look like the territory of monsters.
It looked peaceful.
Elegant.
Powerful.
The deeper we went, the more the estate revealed itself.
Security posts.
Well-maintained gardens.
Large structures in the distance.
Everything was organized. Controlled.
Disciplined.
After what felt like a long drive, the main estate finally came into view.
It wasn't just a house.
It was a fortress disguised as luxury.
Massive walls.
Wide balconies.
Dark glass windows that reflected the sky like mirrors.
Raven slowed the car and parked it near the side entrance.
The engine shut off.
Silence fell once again.
But this time, it felt final.
My fingers tightened around the fabric of my dress.
This was it.
No more hospital rooms.
No more safe distance.
I was here.
In their territory.
Under their roof.
Raven opened his door and stepped out without a word.
A second later, my door opened as well.
He stood there, waiting.
Not impatient.
Not gentle.
Just… waiting.
I took a slow breath before stepping out of the car.
The air felt different here.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
Like the ground itself held authority.
I looked up at the towering estate in front of me, my heart beating loudly in my ears.
This was the place I was supposed to call home.
But as I stood there beneath its shadow, one thought echoed painfully inside me—
A home is supposed to feel safe.
So why does this place feel like another cage?
We walked along the wide stone pathway leading deeper into the estate, and I followed a few steps behind Raven.
He moved casually, as if this place was nothing more than an extension of himself. His strides were unhurried but purposeful, his posture straight, his presence steady. In his right hand, he carried my small suitcase—the only thing I owned that hadn't been stripped away from me.
I hated how small it looked in his grasp.
The estate was breathtaking.
Manicured gardens stretched along both sides of the pathway, trimmed hedges sculpted into perfect shapes. Fountains stood at intervals, their water flowing in quiet elegance. Everything was symmetrical. Controlled. Maintained.
Beautiful.
And yet—
It was too quiet.
The silence here wasn't peaceful.
It was watchful.
We had been walking for several minutes, but I hadn't seen a single soul. No guards roaming. No servants tending the gardens. Not even the faint sound of distant voices.
It was as if the entire estate was holding its breath.
Then the massive double doors of the main house opened.
The moment I stepped inside, my attention was immediately drawn upward.
A chandelier.
Huge.
Crystal.
Its polished surfaces reflected the light in a thousand directions, scattering it across the marble floors below. The ceiling soared high above us, carved with intricate designs that spoke of wealth and old power.
The floor beneath my feet gleamed like glass.
This wasn't just a house.
"Welcome back, Alpha Raven."
The sudden chorus of voices snapped me out of my awe.
I froze.
Standing before us in two perfectly straight lines were several women dressed in black-and-white maid uniforms. Beside them stood men wearing white tops and black trousers—helpers or staff.
Ten women.
Four men.
All standing stiffly.
All staring.
Their expressions were serious—too serious. Not warm. Not welcoming.
Formal.
Rigid.
A tall, gray-haired butler stepped forward from the line. His back was perfectly straight, his hands folded neatly behind him. His suit was immaculate, not a single crease visible.
His face, however, was almost unsettling.
Neutral.
Coldly neutral.
"Escort her to her room," Raven said calmly, his tone carrying quiet authority.
There was no introduction.
No explanation.
Just an order.
The butler inclined his head slightly. "I will."
Raven released my suitcase into the butler's hand without another word.
And then—
He turned away.
He walked toward the grand staircase and ascended to the second floor without once looking back at me.
Not once.
I watched him disappear around the corner.
The calm atmosphere from earlier shifted instantly.
The silence became heavier.
Thicker.
The eyes behind me sharpened.
I could feel it.
The way the staff were looking at me.
Not curious.
Not neutral.
But… hostile.
My skin prickled under their gaze, and the hairs on my arms rose as if my body sensed something my mind was still trying to deny.
"You must be Miss—" the butler began, pausing deliberately as if tasting the name.
"Sareya."
He said it with restrained displeasure.
I straightened slightly.
"Sareya Hailington," I introduced myself softly, trying to keep my voice steady.
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp, collective hiss filled the air behind him.
I flinched.
The maids and helpers stared at me differently now—eyes narrowed, expressions twisted with something close to disgust… or anger.
The sound they made wasn't subtle.
It was instinctive.
Like my name itself was offensive.
My chest tightened.
I didn't understand.
Why did my surname affect them like that?
The butler must have noticed the change in my expression because he turned slightly and gestured sharply toward the staff.
"You may return to your duties."
His tone left no room for argument.
They dispersed quickly, though not without casting one last look at me—sharp and cutting.
Soon, only the butler and I remained in the vast entrance hall.
The silence returned.
But this time, it felt colder.
"Please follow me," he said, his tone returning to polite professionalism.
I nodded and followed him toward the staircase.
The steps were wide, covered in a dark red runner that softened our footsteps. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive perfume.
As we reached the second floor, I glanced around, half-hoping I would see Raven somewhere in the hallway.
But there was no sign of him.
Not even his shadow.
The hallways were long and lined with framed portraits—old paintings, family photographs, landscapes. Between them stood marble statues and tall vases filled with fresh flowers.
Everything was immaculate.
Everything was perfectly arranged.
And yet—
We didn't encounter a single person.
It was as if this entire floor was reserved for ghosts.
We stopped in front of a large double door at the far end of the corridor.
"This will be your room," the butler stated before pushing the door open.
I stepped inside slowly.
The room was enormous.
A large canopy bed stood at the center, draped in soft white fabric. The sheets looked untouched, pristine. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the estate grounds, allowing golden afternoon light to spill across the polished wooden floor.
There was a sitting area by the window, a vanity near the wall, and a wardrobe that looked bigger than my grandparents' entire bedroom.
The room was elegant.
Organized.
Spotless.
It didn't look like a guest room.
It looked prepared.
As if someone had known I would come.
I walked further inside, my fingers brushing lightly against the edge of a dresser, still trying to take everything in.
Then I heard a soft clearing of a throat behind me.
I stopped and turned.
The butler stood near the door, hands clasped in front of him.
"I hope you understand," he began carefully, his tone measured and professional, "that this house runs on order and discipline."
There was something beneath his words.
A warning.
I nodded slowly. "Of course."
His gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"And stay away from trouble," he added.
The words lingered in the air between us.
"I'll… try not to cause trouble," I said quietly.
For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes.
Not approval.
Not kindness.
Something unreadable.
But it vanished just as quickly.
He proceeded to explain several rules—meal times, restricted areas, curfews, whom I was allowed to speak to and whom I was not.
Each rule felt less like guidance and more like invisible chains being placed around my wrists.
When he finished, he gave a small nod.
"If you require anything, inform the staff assigned to this floor."
Assigned.
Not available.
Assigned.
Then he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
The click of the lock echoed louder than it should have.
I stood alone in the center of the vast room.
Surrounded by luxury.
Surrounded by silence.
And yet—
I had never felt so unwelcome in my entire life.