"What on the ever-loving hell—" Tyson started, then stopped, because whatever he had been about to say clearly required a few more seconds of processing.
Owen felt that in his soul.
Because when Kyle had told them to head inside, Owen had been picturing something reasonable. Maybe a few rooms connected to the reception hall. Maybe a lounge. Maybe a hall with seats and signs and polite lighting.
Not this.
So much for a room.
The space opened up so suddenly that Owen's brain lagged a full second behind his eyes. His steps slowed without him realizing it, his body reacting before his thoughts could catch up.
Glass stretched everywhere.
It layered over steel beams that curved upward in elegant arcs, soaring so high that the teen had to tilt his head back until his neck protested. Sunlight poured in from every angle, bright and unrestrained, scattering across the floor and walls until squinting became mandatory to look up.
Greenery climbed wherever it pleased.
