Once Upon A Time: Hook's Adopted Son (Book 1)

7:15 A.M.

(Storybrooke)

A soft rumble of thunder rolled over the rooftops of Storybrooke, the sky overhead cloaked in slate-gray clouds that threatened a coming downpour. The early morning light struggled to break through the thick clouds, casting an eerie dimness over the quiet neighborhood. Outside the stately white home of the mayor, the Mills residence stood in moody silence—until the low whine of a wrench and the metallic click of bolts disrupted the quiet. The Stranger, clad in dark layers that suited the stormy morning, crouched beside his motorcycle in the driveway. Tools lay scattered at his feet, and the tail end of the bike had been opened to reveal a thick, locked case mounted tightly to the rear.

Henry Mills stood on the edge of the walk, his schoolbag slung loosely over one shoulder. His gaze was sharp and inquisitive as he took in the sight before him. He had been watching the man ever since he'd arrived—people didn't just come to Storybrooke. And this man wasn't like anyone else he'd seen. "What are you doing here?" Henry asked, stepping closer, the gravel crunching lightly under his sneakers.

Without looking up, the man responded coolly, his focus on tightening something near the engine. "Fixing my bike."

Henry frowned, taking another step forward. "No, I mean in Storybrooke."

Finally, the Stranger glanced up, his expression unreadable beneath tousled dark hair. "Just visiting."

Henry's eyes drifted toward the mysterious case bolted to the back of the motorcycle. It looked out of place—heavy, purposeful. He nodded at it. "What's that?"

The man followed his gaze. "A box."

Henry wasn't buying it. "What's inside it?"

The Stranger straightened, resting his hands on the handlebars, as if considering how much to say. "Just something I need to do what I came here for."

Before Henry could press further, the front door of the Mills house opened. Regina stepped out, dressed neatly for the day but clearly caught off guard. Her eyes immediately fixed on the stranger speaking with her son. She paused for a moment on the porch, then began to descend the steps toward them, concern tightening her expression. The Stranger glanced in her direction but didn't flinch. He turned back to Henry and swung one leg over the motorcycle seat. The engine purred softly beneath him. "I thought you were just visiting," Henry called after him.

A smirk played faintly across the man's face. "Doesn't mean I don't have something to do."

Another crack of thunder echoed above as the storm clouds swirled, drawing closer. The air smelled of wet pavement and tension. "You better get to school," the Stranger said lightly, fixing Henry with one last look. "Looks like a storm's coming."

With that, he pulled on his gloves and twisted the throttle. The bike rumbled louder as he rode off down the street, water already beginning to dot the pavement with scattered raindrops. Regina reached Henry's side just as the motorcycle disappeared around the corner. She didn't say anything for a moment, her gaze still following the stranger's path. "Henry, who was that?" she finally asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Henry shrugged, trying to appear casual, though his mind was clearly spinning with questions. "Just a guy."

Not far off, standing under the shelter of a large tree, Harry watched the scene quietly. His black hood was up against the threat of rain, and Toothless—his loyal black wolf companion—stood beside him, ears pricked and body tense. The wolf had taken a few instinctive steps forward when the Stranger first appeared, but stayed by Harry's side, wary. Harry had been sensing something strange ever since the man arrived in Storybrooke. He hadn't shared the feeling with anyone—not even Emma—but his instincts had rarely been wrong. The box on the bike. The man's vague answers. The tension in the air went beyond the brewing storm.