Chapter 4 - Ryder
The first few days back in town were tense and full of frustration. Within seventy-two hours, there had been multiple attacks along the territory's border, causing more damage than the average scuffle with rogues. The attacks had been vicious and destructive, leaving three people hospitalized, although fortunately still alive. The scent of the attacker wasn't one any of them recognized, and the trails all went cold at the river, like whoever was responsible had intentionally stopped there to throw them off. Not random acts of violence, in other words. Someone was deliberately taunting them.
Zach was insistent that Ryder needed to take it easy and focus on getting himself reacclimated to ordinary life after his last mission, so he was mainly kept away from the action. It was driving him to the brink of madness. Sure, it was nice to be back at HQ with his old pals, but trouble was brewing. He wanted to be out there, hunting down whoever was wreaking havoc in their tranquil town.
He was graciously allowed to tag along to interview the newly awakened victims, but that only set him more on edge. The clinic was Elena's workplace, and her scent radiated off every wall. Apparently, her magic had been instrumental in saving the victims. They all smelled like her from whatever salve she'd administered to treat their wounds. It took an intense amount of concentration to hold himself back from following her trail and cornering her in a supply closet or some other secluded spot and—
No. Bad wolf. He would do what he always did. His work was too important to allow himself to get caught up in foolish romantic whims. All it would accomplish was to keep him from making the difficult decisions he sometimes had to make. After what happened to Iris, he was determined to not slip up again. Now, his life was dedicated to protecting people. Saving lives and keeping his friends and family safe. If he let himself get caught up in some selfish romantic pursuit, it would distract him from that. It would put her in danger, too, and make her a target for the dangerous forces he hunted.
Plus, he reminded himself for the millionth time, Elena was Tolliver’s baby sister. Ryder had watched her grow up from an annoying, scrawny kid to the shockingly gorgeous young woman she now was. Tolliver was his closest friend in the world. The closest thing he had family. That bond wasn’t worth jeopardizing over a girl, no matter what the wild beast inside him sometimes thought. He would keep his distance, just like he always had.
For the most part, it worked. Save for a brief moment of eye contact that had almost destroyed his resolve, he successfully kept his distance for the duration of their brief visits. None of the victims seemed to remember more than a vague description of a wolf attacking them in the woods. Given the severity of their injuries, that made sense. Their pain and fear probably blurred out any details or meaningful information. With time, maybe, they would be able to recall more. Until then, they'd have to wait and see.
Wait and see. There was entirely too much of that happening. While waiting, Ryder was assigned to take new recruits through basic self-defense training. He suspected Zach was mostly trying to keep him busy so he'd stop bugging him about letting him back out into the field. This sort of thing was usually Tolliver's department, not his, and he didn't particularly enjoy supervising rowdy kids on the best of days. It was better than doing nothing, though. The threat of being forced to take a vacation loomed heavily over his head, so he relented and reluctantly accepted his new assignment.
Now, he stood on the sidelines of a makeshift ring drawn in the dirt, arms crossed tightly as he watched two of the younger men in front of him clashing. Teeth and fists flew as they wrestled ferociously with each other. Behind him, several other men and women—most were younger than him by a few years at least—watched with keen interest, waiting for their own opportunity to jump in. Some seemed excited by the whole exercise, others slightly less thrilled.
Ryder could sympathize with that. As much as he valued his job, the occasional necessity of violence wasn't his favorite part of the gig. It wasn't anyone's, he was pretty sure. The only ones who truly enjoyed fighting were the rogues. The rest of them were just defending their homes or completing a job. Still, they needed to stay sharp in case things went south. In this line of work, that could happen without warning. As a unit leader, he was responsible for ensuring they were battle-ready whenever they were called out on a mission. Some of them had a long way to go, though—a really long way.
A loud slam broke off his trail of thought, and his attention snapped back to the fighters. One of them, Liam, had pinned his opponent flat against the ground and growled menacingly down at him, teeth bared. Instinctively, Ryder leaped forward, grabbing the young man by the fur suddenly emerging from his shirt collar and yanking him backward. Caught off guard by his trainer's sudden intervention, Liam stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and toppling onto the grass with an undignified yelp of surprise.
“Cool it, boys,” he instructed firmly, glancing between the two men as they returned to their human forms and got back onto their feet. “Good to see you both taking this seriously, but you can't lose control like that. Control is the difference between winning a fight and winding up dead. Shift when it's useful, not because you're mad. Understand?”
Liam grimaced slightly and looked away, avoiding eye contact. The other recruit, Adrian, sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair, pushing himself back up on his feet.
“Yes, sir,” they both muttered.
Both of them were breathing heavily, their clothes dirty and tattered from the struggle. At least they had the decency to seem somewhat embarrassed about letting their wolves get carried away. Normally, they weren't hotheaded, but it was near a full moon, and the whole unit was on edge with the recent rogue attacks. It was a perfect storm of conditions that would leave a wolf riled up and easily tempted into making rash choices. Ryder felt it, too, that familiar tension tugging at his senses. It made for a somewhat risky training session, which was also why it was so important. They needed to learn to push through that haze and stay focused on the task. Otherwise, they'd be no use in the field.
“All right. Go take a shower, then go for a run,” he instructed the two duelists, shaking off the feeling. “Everyone else, partner up. I want to see what you've got.”
The other trainees sprang into action, rushing into the practice area and matching into pairs to spar. Some looked nervous, while others flashed cocky grins at their prospective opponents. After Zach became mayor and started setting the town straight, they'd had an influx of newcomers eager to join the team. There were about a dozen of them here now. Most of the recruits in this unit had arrived within the past few months, so Ryder hadn't had a chance to work with them directly yet. As he walked around, inspecting the pairs and calling out instructions to adjust forms or strategies, he was pleased to see significant potential in many of them.
In one corner, a tall young man in his early twenties with dark brown hair effortlessly disarmed his competitor, twisting the other man's arm behind his back and shoving him to the floor with a satisfied smirk. Ryder paused next to them, cocking his head slightly to one side as he watched. The victor grinned up at him confidently and released his hold on the other man, offering a hand to help him up.
Silas was an interesting recruit with strong physical strength, exceptional reflexes, and a knack for strategy. In a few years, with the right training, he would probably be quite the formidable wolf—maybe even a candidate for a leadership position. He certainly had potential. He was a good kid—Polite, sociable, with a good sense of humor.
Yet, as Ryder watched the younger man now and their eyes met for a moment, his hackles rose instinctively. He clenched his jaw, trying to fight off the overwhelming urge to bare his teeth and growl. His wolf stirred possessively at the memory of seeing the man around town with his mate—no. With Elena. Who wasn't his mate and never would be. It was perfectly fine for her to date other people. In fact, she should. That was the best thing for her. Anyway, she and Silas had broken up over a year ago. Even if Ryder intended to pursue her, which he didn't, this was utterly ridiculous.
“Good job, kid,” he forced himself to say, a strained grin twisting his lips as he gave Silas a quick pat on the shoulder. “Impressive technique. I noticed you tend to favor one side too much when you're on the defensive. Try to cover your flank better. You need to think about your vulnerable spots before someone else does it for you.”
“Yeah, all right,” Silas said, grinning right back, then added somewhat sheepishly, “Uh, how, exactly? Could you show me?”
The rational side of Ryder's brain warned him that it might not be a good idea to get into a physical altercation with this man right now when he was already wound up. The more irrational and prideful side scoffed dismissively at the prospect. He had been put to this task because he was a good instructor. Losing control and tearing into someone because of a petty rivalry was the sort of thing that happened to amateurs, young wolves who hadn't yet learned how to keep their emotions in check. Ryder had spent years on the road as part of this operation, facing down beasts, demons, monsters, and countless other threats. Of course, he could show this kid how to improve his technique without giving in to animalistic urges. He was better than that.
So he smirked, stepping forward into the practice space to face off against Silas. The other recruit, a brown-haired man named Marco, stepped to the side, watching curiously. The entire room seemed to halt, everyone else equally curious and attentive.
“All right,” Ryder said casually as they circled each other slowly. “Your weak side is on the left. I'm going to come at you from that direction, and you need to reposition yourself so I can't use it to my advantage. Got it?”
“Got it,” Silas answered determinedly, nodding slightly.
Ryder lunged at him from his left, as promised. Silas moved to block him, but a little too slowly, still relying too heavily on the strength in his dominant hand. Before he knew it, Ryder had navigated around to grab him from behind, pulling his arm across his chest and pinning his other arm behind his back. The aggressive maneuver made his wolf snarl with bloodthirsty glee, willing him to tighten his grip until he heard bones cracking as an image of that smug bastard with his hands all over Elena flashed in his head.
Ryder forced those feelings down and let go. He stepped back to examine Silas, who brushed off his uniform casually, looking flustered but undeterred by the brief loss. A faint grin lingered on his lips, his expression set with determination as his posture shifted into a readier stance.
“Okay, try again,” Silas prompted, nodding, “I'll get it this time.”
They reset the position, resuming their earlier circling pattern, and began exchanging blows with slow, deliberate movements. As the two traded kicks and blocks, their motions gradually gained momentum, becoming more and more fluid. Ryder focused on striking from the left, and as the minutes went by, Silas seemed to catch on, learning to anticipate and countermove more efficiently. The others had gathered around them now, murmuring quietly and making impressed comments as they watched. The new recruit's form was visibly improving, and soon, they were moving at a breakneck speed, dancing in and out of each other's reach as they aimed strike after strike.
With every impact of their bodies crashing together, Ryder felt his wolf bristle, driven by a desire to teach the young pup a lesson in humility. In his mind, he saw the boy kissing Elena in the town square and remembered her bashful giggles as they passed him on the street. His pulse raced, his teeth itched, and a low growl built in the back of his throat. With a clenched fist, he landed another solid hit against Silas' torso, sending him skittering backward to regain his footing. Silas retaliated with a fierce blow that forced Ryder to stumble to one side.
“Is that the best you've got, pup?” he challenged, eyes gleaming as he expertly dodged the next attack and flipped their positions, reversing the offense. Silas answered the taunt with a snarl, dropping down to all fours to tackle him. It caught Ryder off-balance enough to knock him onto his back, but he quickly recovered. Using his legs to propel himself, he lunged upward and knocked Silas to the ground. A quiet chuckle escaped the recruit's lips, and he leaped back up to return to the assault, fists swinging rapidly, each strike was thrown with greater force than the last.
Adrenaline surged through Ryder's veins. The whispered chatter of the onlookers grew to cheers and exuberant encouragement, goading the surging fury of battle onward. Every nerve in his body felt electrified. When their eyes met, fire flashed between them. His hazel irises burned like molten lava, reflecting in the rival fighter's icy blue gaze. He lunged forward, wrapping an arm around Silas' neck and wrenching hard to one side. A growl rumbled in Silas' throat as his head jerked to avoid the chokehold. Ryder tightened his grasp, refusing to relinquish control. Every fiber of his being screamed with instinctual hatred for the man in his grip. He wanted to crush him completely, rip his skin into shreds, sink his fangs into—
Fangs?
Reality crashed over him like a tsunami. His gaze darted down to the hand holding Silas' throat, taking in the sight of claws extended from where fingernails had been before. Fur was sprouting from his knuckles, spreading up his forearm. His breaths came in quick bursts, and he realized how fast his heart was thundering against his ribs. With a violent jerking motion, he shoved the recruit away, stumbling backward in horrified disbelief. He blinked several times, watching in numb shock as the fur retracted into his skin, disappearing entirely as though it had never been there.
The room had gone quiet. Silas stared at him, blinking in confusion while panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, cautiously, the other recruit pushed himself off the floor, raising a hand defensively.
“Everything okay there?” he asked carefully, squinting warily at Ryder.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Just wanted to see how you'd react under pressure,” Ryder managed to stammer out after a few seconds, still dazed. “Keep it up, kid. You're doing good.”
It probably wasn't the most convincing attempt at saving face, but what was he supposed to do? Tell him that the animal in his blood had taken over so thoroughly he'd nearly murdered the poor guy for the crime of previously dating Elena? Not likely. Not unless he was looking for a long vacation away from the office. Something like this had never happened before and couldn't happen again. Ever. He needed to get his feelings for that girl under control. This was unacceptable.
Luckily, no one else appeared to be all that alarmed or concerned. It seemed like they bought his excuse. Truthfully, that made him feel guilty. He was responsible for these kids. It wasn't right that he'd let things spiral out of control when they trusted him to look out for their best interests. It wouldn't happen again. Couldn't happen again.
“Let's call it for today,” he barked, spinning around and stalking toward his bag, pointedly keeping his head down. “Good job, all of you. You should all be proud of your progress. Hydrate and take care of any injuries. Dismissed!”
Before anyone could respond, he scooped up his gym bag and hurried out the door. His mind reeled as he strode quickly through the bunker, not stopping to speak to anyone who waved at him. Still shaking with frustration and panic, he headed directly for the exit and hopped on his motorcycle to speed down the country road.
This wasn't like him. He was disciplined, self-assured, and dedicated to the job. This was exactly why he couldn’t be around Elena. She messed him up, brought out the worst of his wolf instincts. Maybe Zach was right in thinking he needed some time to unwind for a bit. He needed to breathe fresh air and clear his head. The open sky would help him relax, bring his racing thoughts back into focus, and find some clarity amid the chaos. Put things in perspective and get himself under control.
A few minutes later, he stopped the bike by a pond deep in the woods and shifted, stretching and sniffing the damp earth and musk of the wildlife as he trotted between the trees. He growled in frustration when a branch caught in his fur. Normally, transforming and taking a short run helped him settle down. It centered him and soothed his frayed nerves when he'd had a hard day.
However, even the rustle of leaves and the crisp chill of the wind did little to ease his restless spirit. Every scent irritated him more, and every twig that snapped underneath his paws grated on his nerves. As the sun started to set, his anxiety intensified. Despite the steady thud of his paws hitting the ground and his labored breathing, his mind raced faster and faster in an endless spiral of unhelpful conjecture. What ifs, how coulds, and maybes swirled about wildly, with no outlet for escape.
Yeah. This wasn't going to work. He needed something much stronger than the tranquility of nature.
With one last frustrated growl, he returned to his motorcycle, shifted back, and set off toward town. As he neared the town square, a familiar neon sign buzzed overhead, illuminating the sidewalk below with the words ‘Moonshine & Wolfsbane’ in looping cursive script. Their local watering hole was the perfect spot to blow off some steam. He'd have a drink—or ten—and forget his worries for a while. Maybe find some pretty nymph and bring her home for the night so he could distract himself with something less complicated. That usually worked. At least for a few hours.
He took a seat at the end of the bar. It was a Friday night, so quite a few people were in there. Nobody he knew particularly well, though. Perfect. The less he had to talk, the better. He got himself a glass of whiskey and settled comfortably on a stool, letting out a deep exhale as the alcohol slid down his throat. He closed his eyes, savoring the sharp sting on his tongue and the warmth spreading through him as the liquor coursed through him.
Okay. This was better. A few more of these, and he might even start feeling normal again.
Halfway through his third glass, his nose picked up a very unwelcome scent that immediately turned the calming buzz he had been enjoying into a siren blaring in the back of his skull. Suddenly hyperaware of everything happening within his immediate vicinity, he stiffened. His spine went rigid, and his gaze darted instinctively toward the entrance. Even before he spotted her, he felt her presence in his bones, inching down his backbone. The combination of lavender shampoo, honey, and wildflowers assaulted his nostrils mercilessly, leaving him breathless.
Emerald-green eyes found his as soon as she stepped into the pub. Her long, auburn hair cascaded loosely past her shoulders over a flowing floral sundress with a sweetheart neckline that drew attention to her tantalizing curves. Elena froze in the doorway for a second, looking surprised as their eyes met. It felt like the entire world paused and hushed, leaving nothing but the deafening echo of his heartbeat pulsing loudly in his ears. An inferno of primal need instantly ignited deep in his gut. She held his gaze, looking apprehensive but somehow vulnerable at the same time. It was the last thing he needed and everything he'd ever wanted.
The moment was abruptly interrupted by the bubbly, familiar laughter of Hayley, Zach's mate, who strolled in after Elena and grabbed her friend's arm to pull her toward the bar. Ryder tore his gaze away rapidly, an embarrassed flush rising on his cheeks. He averted his eyes and pretended to be engrossed in examining his glass, then took another swig of amber liquid. He had already made a damn fool of himself once today. He wasn't going to lose his cool again.
The two women bounced excitedly toward the bar, smiling and giggling about something. As they stopped a few feet away, though, he sensed Elena glance at him again. He kept his eyes trained downward, deliberately looking anywhere but directly at her. He was good at pretending to ignore her. He'd been doing it for years, after all.
“Oh! Ryder!” Hayley's voice exclaimed.
Damn it. He couldn't very well be a jerk to one of his oldest friends' mate, could he? Reluctantly, he raised his gaze to meet hers.
“Evening, Hayley,” he greeted her nonchalantly, then nodded at the redhead beside her. “Elena.”
“What are you doing here?” Elena asked tentatively, looking uncertain if she wanted to take another step closer to him. “You don't usually go out drinking by yourself. Is everything all right?”
Damn witches and their intuition. Not psychic enough to pick up on what a mess he was inside, but able to tell something was off with him. That was still significantly more than he wanted her to know. He took another swig of his whiskey to steel himself, then gave her his most relaxed, cocky grin.
“Who says I'm here by myself?” he replied smoothly, not at all subtly glancing over at a leggy dryad who was sitting at a table a few feet away, laughing loudly at a joke she had apparently just made to a group of her friends. “Enjoy your evening, ladies. I've got plans of my own tonight.”
Without waiting for either of their responses, he finished his drink, hopped up, and strode over to the table. Gods, he felt like an idiot. And a complete jerk. But it was better this way. If she kept believing that he hated her. Those thoughts he’d had during training today only proved what he already knew. He wasn't safe to be around, and that was without all the danger of his job, the baggage from his troubled past, and Tolliver's fierce protectiveness. Best to keep her on the periphery of his life.
Nothing had changed. They weren't right for each other, and they never would be.