Chapter 4

Ryker Stone POV:

A few days later, the silence and isolation I had earned became a practical problem. I needed supplies. Salt, flour, a proper knife, blankets that weren't riddled with holes. And for that, I needed money.

I walked into the village market for the first time since my return. Slung over my shoulder was a massive shape wrapped in canvas, its weight familiar and easy. The smell of blood, coppery and rich, clung to me.

The cheerful morning bustle of the market died the moment I appeared. A merchant dropped a crate of apples, the fruit rolling across the dirt path unnoticed. Mothers pulled their children close, shielding their eyes. Conversations trailed off into silence. Stalls that had been crowded moments before suddenly had a wide berth around them. Everyone stared, their eyes a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity. The story of the banshee in the woods had taken root, growing into a dark legend. They looked at me and saw not a wolf, but a demon.

I ignored their gazes and walked directly to the general store. The proprietor, Leo Vance, the same man who had spread the rumors about me communing with the dead, was behind the counter.

His face went pale when he saw me approach. "What do you want?" he stammered, his hands trembling slightly.

I swung the heavy bundle off my shoulder and dropped it onto his counter with a wet, heavy thud. "I'm selling," I said, my voice flat.

I untied the canvas. Inside was the carcass of a boar, but not any normal boar. This one was immense, its black hide bristling with a row of sharp, bony spines along its back. Its eyes, even in death, glowed with a faint, malevolent red. A Razorback, a creature twisted by dark energies from the Forbidden Forest, notoriously savage and almost impossible to kill. It usually took a full hunting party of elite warriors to bring one down.

Leo stumbled back, his eyes wide with terror. "That's... that's from the Forbidden Forest! You're not allowed-"

"It crossed the border," a sharp voice cut in. Finn Hale, the young Enforcer, had arrived with two of his men, drawn by the commotion. "You trespassed into the Forbidden Forest, Stone! That's a crime against pack law!" He drew his silver-laced blade, his knuckles white.

I met his accusing glare without emotion. "It wandered out. Came onto my land. I was cleaning my yard."

Finn scoffed, his face filled with disbelief. "Liar. You hunted it for the bounty. You probably used traps, or poison. A coward's kill." He gestured to one of his men. "Check the carcass. Find the proof."

The warrior approached the dead Razorback cautiously. He circled it, his eyes scanning for trap marks or arrow wounds. Then he stopped, his gaze fixed on the creature's head. His jaw went slack. "Finn..." he whispered, his voice tight with shock. "You need to see this."

Finn strode over, his skepticism plain on his face. He looked down, and his breath hitched.

There was only one wound on the entire beast. A single, perfectly round hole, no bigger than a silver dollar, punched directly through the thickest part of its skull, right between the eyes. The edges of the wound were cauterized, smooth and black, as if a spear of white-hot steel had been driven through its brain, instantly boiling it from the inside.

It was an impossible wound. A frontal attack. A single, killing blow delivered with unimaginable force and precision.

Finn's head snapped up, his eyes wide as he stared at me. He scanned my body, searching for the tell-tale signs of a fight-the deep gashes, the broken bones that were the price of facing a Razorback. He found nothing but old scars.

The silence in the market was absolute. The truth was as undeniable as the dead monster on the counter. I hadn't used traps. I had faced this nightmare head-on and killed it instantly, without it so much as laying a claw on me.

Just then, Jax Thorne pushed his way through the crowd. The veteran Enforcer took in the scene at a glance-Finn's shocked face, the terrified onlookers, the monstrous boar. His experienced eyes went straight to the wound, and his pupils contracted. He, unlike the others, understood exactly what he was looking at.

He waved a dismissive hand at Finn. "Stand down."

Jax addressed me directly, his voice a low rumble of respect. "This is a high-value kill. Difficult to process, but the bounty stands. Leo," he said, turning to the store owner, "pay him the full amount. The pack will cover the disposal."

Leo, flustered and terrified, scrambled to do as he was told, counting out a thick stack of bills into my hand.

I took the money without a word. I turned and began to gather what I needed: sacks of flour, salt, a new whetstone, a heavy wool blanket, a cast-iron skillet. I paid Leo, and then, under the stunned, fearful, and newly respectful gaze of the entire market, I walked away.

"Why did you let him go?" I heard Finn demand of his superior. "He's dangerous! He broke the law!"

I didn't need to turn around to know the look on Jax's face. "Dangerous?" he replied, his voice a low warning. "Finn, a man who can kill a Razorback like that isn't dangerous. He's on another level entirely. And you'd be wise to never, ever make him your enemy."

I returned to my cabin, the heavy supplies a comforting weight on my back. I hadn't done it to prove a point or to intimidate them.

I had done it because I was hungry.