Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Neville

T he air was crisp with the approach of autumn, carrying the scent of pine and earth through the dense woods surrounding Silver Ridge. Neville moved silently through the underbrush, his senses heightened, every sound and scent sharper as the full moon loomed nearer. His patrols always took on an edge of urgency during this time of the month, when the pull of the moon made it harder to keep the beast within him under control. But tonight, something was different. There was a strange energy in the air, a scent that didn't belong, tinged with something dark and foreign.

He crouched low, inhaling deeply, trying to isolate the scent from the familiar mix of woodland aromas. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but there—an unfamiliar musk that made his hackles rise. In all that time, he had never encountered anything like this.

His wolf, always just beneath the surface, stirred uneasily, urging him to follow the scent, to hunt. Neville's jaw clenched as he fought the urge down. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now. Not when something was clearly amiss.

He straightened, scanning the darkened woods. The night was quiet, too quiet. The usual sounds of nocturnal creatures were absent, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Neville's instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. He moved swiftly but cautiously through the trees, following the trail of the unfamiliar scent.

The scent grew stronger as he neared the edge of the woods, where the trees thinned out to reveal a small clearing. Neville's heart pounded as he recognized the spot—it was the same area where, several months ago, the search for a missing child had been focused. The child of a tourist who had been kayaking in the area. The child had never been found and was now presumed dead or worse.

And now, another child had been missing for a number of hours and the official search had proved fruitless, but Garrett had just reported the child had been found by Tamzyn March, a local shopkeeper of some sort. A woman Neville avoided as each time she was in his proximity, troubling symptoms manifested themselves—nausea, dizziness, disorientation. Symptoms that led him to believe she was his fated mate. The last thing Neville needed was a human-fated mate and one whose past seemed to be shrouded in mystery.

Neville had been briefed on the situation by his beta, Garrett Steele, who doubled as the town's sheriff. The disappearance had been troubling, but it hadn't been the first time a child had wandered off in these woods. Usually, they were found within hours, frightened but unharmed. But this time, something felt different.

He crouched near the edge of the clearing, his sharp eyes scanning the ground. The scent was stronger here, almost overpowering, and it was mingled with another scent—one that sent a jolt of recognition through him. It was the scent of magic, old and potent, lingering in the air like the aftermath of a lightning strike.

Neville's wolf bristled, the beast recognizing the threat that magic posed to them. He had encountered witches before, but none had ever ventured into his territory. He had made sure of that. But this scent… it was different. There was a darkness to it, something tainted and wrong.

As he studied the ground, he noticed faint scorch marks etched into the earth, forming a pattern he couldn't quite decipher. The charred circle was surrounded by a white, crystalline powder. He reached down and brought some to his nose and then to the tip of his tongue. Salt.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold soil, and felt a tremor of energy pulse through him. The remnants of a spell, no doubt, but one far more powerful than anything he had ever encountered. Whoever had cast this spell was dangerous, and Neville needed to find out who they were before they could cause any more harm. And who had surrounded the circle with salt? He knew some witches used infused salt to bind dark energies.

Neville stood, every muscle in his body tensed as he scanned the surrounding woods. The scent of magic was mixed with another scent now, one that was decidedly human, but with a strange undertone that made his wolf growl in the back of his mind. The scent was faint, but it was there, coming from the opposite side of the clearing.

He followed with his keen sense of smell, moving silently through the trees until he saw her. A woman, standing at the edge of the clearing, her back to him as she examined the scorched ground. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a worn leather jacket, her long dark hair falling in waves down her back. But there was something about her that set off alarm bells in Neville's mind. She didn't belong here, and yet, she moved with a familiarity that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing.

Neville stepped forward, deliberately allowing a twig to snap underfoot. The woman stiffened, her head whipping around to face him. Her eyes, a startling shade of violet, locked onto his, and Neville felt the air between them crackle with tension. She wasn't just any woman. His wolf sensed it immediately, recognizing something in her that was both familiar and dangerous.

"What are you doing here?" Neville's voice was low, rough with the barely restrained growl of his wolf.

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back, her hand subtly moving toward the pocket of her jacket. "I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her tone guarded.

Neville studied her, his gaze sharp. She wasn't afraid of him, despite the obvious tension in the air. That alone was enough to put him on edge. Most people, even those who didn't know what he was, instinctively recognized the danger he posed and reacted accordingly. But this woman… there was something off about her.

"I'm the one asking the questions," Neville said, his voice hardening. "This is private property."

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "The woods belong to everyone, don't they?"

"Not these woods," Neville growled, taking a step closer. He loomed over her, his size and presence meant to intimidate, but she held her ground.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Neville's wolf paced restlessly, agitated by the woman's scent, which was an odd mixture of earth and something ancient, something magical.

"You're Tamzyn March, aren't you?" Neville demanded, his patience wearing thin. He'd seen her around, known she was a part of the town, but he'd had no cause to interact with her.

The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking to the scorched ground before meeting his gaze again. "And you're Neville Lawless," she said with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Now that we have our identities established and that you believe I'm trespassing, why don't I just leave?"

Neville's eyes narrowed. It was obvious they both knew who the other was. She'd opened her shop several months ago. She was also the one Garrett said had found the little boy. Neville was sure she hadn't mentioned to Garrett where, as Garrett would have investigated and reported the scorched earth symbols and salt to Neville. There had been whispers about her, rumors that she was more than just an herbalist, but he had paid them little mind. Now, he wished he had.

She turned to leave, and Neville reached out, taking hold of her upper arm. "What are you doing here, Tamzyn?" Neville asked, his voice dangerously low.

Tamzyn's jaw tightened and she looked down at his hand. For a moment, Neville thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, as if making a decision. "I was asked to help find the missing child," she said quietly. "I followed the trail here."

Neville's eyes flickered with surprise, but he quickly masked it. "You? Why would someone ask you?"

Tamzyn's gaze didn't waver. "Because I know Jacob's mother, and I know these woods, and I have a way of finding things that others can't."

There it was, the hint of the power he sensed in her. Neville's instincts screamed at him to push her, to find out exactly what she was hiding, but before he could say anything, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the tense silence.

Neville turned just as Garrett emerged from the trees. Garrett's face was grim, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by a seriousness that set Neville on edge.

"Neville," Garrett greeted him with a curt nod, his eyes flicking to Tamzyn with suspicion.

"Garrett," Neville replied, his tone sharp. "What's going on?"

Garrett sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "We've got more missing persons," he said bluntly. "Two hikers from out of town. Their camp was found abandoned about a mile from here."

Neville cursed under his breath. Missing persons weren't uncommon in the vast wilderness surrounding Silver Ridge, but the timing of these disappearances, combined with the strange taint of magic in the air, made his gut twist with unease.

"We found signs of a struggle," Garrett continued, his voice tense. "And…" He hesitated, his eyes darkening. "There were tracks, Neville. Big ones. Like… like a wolf."

Neville's blood ran cold. He didn't need to hear the rest. He knew what Garrett was implying. The curse. The one that was rumored to have plagued their kind for centuries—the one that most would deny existed—turning some wolf-shifters into mindless beasts during the full moon, unable to control their bloodlust. It was, most believed, how the stories of werewolves were formed. The very thing Neville had been fighting to keep under control within himself.

Tamzyn watched the exchange with a wary expression, clearly sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "Like wolf-shifters?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "Aren't wolf-shifters bigger than their purebred brethren?"

Neville shot her a glance, debating how much to tell her. But before he could decide, Garrett stepped forward, his gaze hard on Tamzyn.

"This is pack business," Garrett said firmly. "You should leave."

Tamzyn's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Neville saw a flash of defiance in her gaze. But then she nodded, though her expression remained guarded.

"Fine," she said, her voice cool. "You can exclude me if you want, but that won't stop me from following up on my own. Whatever is happening here is more than just ‘pack' business. And if you're smart, you won't ignore that."

With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the trees as silently as she had come. Neville watched her go, his mind racing. There was more to Tamzyn than she was letting on, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow connected to all of this.

"We need to deal with this, Neville," Garrett said quietly, drawing his attention back. "If the curse isn't just confined to the alpha—if it's spreading, it could affect more of our pack…"

Neville's hands clenched into fists. He knew what Garrett was saying, and he knew what it meant. The curse had been a shadow hanging over the alpha of their pack for generations, a reminder of the darkness that lurked within them. But as far as he or Garrett knew, it only affected the alpha. If it was spreading, if more of their wolves were losing control, then they were all in danger.

"We need to find those hikers," Neville said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "And we need to figure out what's causing this. I won't let our pack fall apart, Garrett. Not after everything we've fought for."

Garrett nodded; his expression grim. "I'm with you. Whatever it takes."

Neville turned back to the clearing, his mind already racing with the next steps. They needed to track the missing hikers, figure out if the curse was involved, and find out more about the strange magic lingering in the woods. And then there was Tamzyn.

She was an enigma, one that Neville couldn't afford to ignore. He had sensed her power, the way it thrummed beneath the surface, controlled but potent. She was hiding something, something that might be connected to the recent disappearances and the dark magic in the woods. Neville couldn't shake the belief that fate had brought her here to him and that their destinies were intertwined, that whatever path lay ahead, it would lead him straight into the heart of her secrets.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, its silvery light filtering through the trees, Neville felt the pull of his wolf grow stronger. The full moon was only days away, and with it came the promise of a battle he wasn't sure he was ready to face. But face it he would. He was the alpha, and it was his duty to protect his pack, no matter the cost.

He turned to Garrett; his expression set with determination. "We need to move fast. Get the others ready. We're going hunting."

Garrett nodded and disappeared into the woods to gather the rest of the pack, leaving Neville alone in the clearing. He took one last look at the scorched ground, at the remnants of the dark magic that had brought them here, and then turned his back on it.

With a final, deep breath, he called forth his wolf. It wasn't something he did lightly, but he knew he needed his strength and heightened capabilities to lead his people. He let out a low, mournful howl, and then, with the scent of the unfamiliar still lingering in his nose, he disappeared into the night, ready to face whatever dangers lay ahead.

There was a storm coming, one that threatened to tear apart everything he had built. But Neville Lawless had never backed down from a fight, and he wasn't about to start now.