The next hunt started wrong. He could feel it.
The air in the tunnels was heavier, the silence sharper, like the stone itself was waiting to crack. Kael walked ahead, steady as ever, but the two other hunters whispered more than usual. Their eyes kept flicking toward him.
He tightened his grip on the dagger. They're not pack. They're wolves waiting for blood.
The prey appeared suddenly—three scavengers clawing at a half-buried chest. Not strong, not trained. Easy pickings.
Too easy.
Kael didn't move. He only raised a hand, signaling the pack forward.
The older hunters rushed in first, blades flashing. The scavengers screamed, tried to run, died quick.
The boy hung back, watching the fight end before it began. When he stepped closer, he saw it—coins spilling not just from the scavengers, but from the chest itself. A stash.
His chest tightened. This wasn't a random hunt. This was bait.
The two hunters turned toward him, coins gleaming in their fists. One smiled. "Your turn, stray."
Steel flashed.
The boy barely ducked the first strike, the dagger whistling past his cheek. Instinct shoved him forward—blade up, slashing low. He felt it tear through flesh, hot blood spraying across his hands.
The second hunter slammed into him from the side, driving him into the stone. Pain spiked up his ribs. He twisted, rammed his dagger into the man's thigh, and rolled free.
They circled him like predators around a wounded deer.
Kael watched from the shadows, arms folded, face unreadable.
Rage burned through the boy's chest. So this is the lesson. Trust the pack—until they turn.
He lunged first. His dagger punched through ribs, carving a scream from one throat. The man fell, clutching his chest.
The last hunter roared, blade swinging wild. The boy ducked under it, slashed across the stomach, then drove his dagger into the man's neck. Hot blood sprayed across his face, blinding him, choking him.
When silence fell, he was the only one still standing.
Kael stepped forward, slow clap echoing in the cavern. "Lesson seventeen. Bite first. Or be eaten."
The boy staggered, drenched in blood that wasn't his. His hand clenched the pouch at his hip.
He wanted to scream. Instead, he whispered, voice breaking:
"I'm not your fucking hound."
Kael's smirk was sharp enough to cut. "Not yet. But you will be."
When he dragged himself back to the stalls, blood still drying in his hair, the market stopped pretending not to notice him.
Merchants turned their heads as he passed. Buyers whispered behind raised hands. The little girl at her bread stall didn't even blink—she just said, "You killed again."
He dropped a coin onto her tray. His hands shook so badly it clinked louder than usual. "Bread."
She slid it toward him. "How many this time?"
He tore into the loaf without answering. His jaw hurt from grinding teeth.
Her small voice pressed anyway. "You're changing. Faster than you realize."
He froze mid-bite. "…And what do you see?"
The girl chewed slowly, swallowed, and looked at him with eyes far too old for her face. "A man who thinks he's still human."
The words sank deeper than Kael's lessons ever could. He turned away, shoving the bread into his mouth to silence the hollow ache clawing at his chest.
The market's stares followed him like chains.
Kael found him later, of course. He always did. Leaning against a stone archway, arms crossed, smirk carved across his face.
"Word spreads fast," Kael said. "Two hunters gutted. Stray boy did it alone. You're earning a reputation."
"I don't want a reputation."
Kael chuckled. "Doesn't matter what you want. The market decides for you."
The boy's fists clenched. "And what if I decide different?"
Kael stepped closer, grey eyes sharp as knives. "Then the market eats you alive. Choice is an illusion here. Chains are all we get. You just learn to wear them without choking."
The boy's throat burned, but he said nothing. His silence was its own surrender.
Kael clapped his shoulder, the weight of it heavy as a collar. "Lesson eighteen. Fight your chains all you want, boy. But learn which ones you can't break."
The boy shoved his hand off, turning away. But Kael's laughter followed him, echoing in the hollow market halls like the rattle of iron links.