The west annex sat quiet enough to look harmless. That was why Alden chose it.
From the outside it was nothing more than a lesser outbuilding on the edge of Grimridge's maintained grounds, a place used when space was needed and attention wasn't. It had old stone, a narrow side door, and a boundary path that could host a "polite parley" without inviting half the pack to witness it. If you believed in optics, it was perfect. If you believed in pressure, it was better.
Cassian arrived with exactly what Alden expected to see. Not weakness. Restraint.
Two guards at his back, not a full escort. No banners. No show of force. A calm posture that suggested he was willing to listen because he didn't need to prove anything. Cassian walked onto the wet path with rain-dark hair and a face that offered nothing away, and the moment he stopped, the air itself seemed to tighten around him as if the territory recognized him more sharply than the stone did.
Alden of Briarhusk was already waiting.
