WEREWOLVES MAY CRY

Chapter 5 - The Blood of the Prince

### Chapter Five – The Blood of the Prince ###

The alley stank of blood and smoke.

Mayer’s blade caught the light as she shifted her stance, feet sliding over broken glass. Two wolves moved closer, shoulders rippling under matted fur, eyes glowing with hunger.

Behind her, Bryan raised his crossbow.

“Move,” he said, voice low, urgent.

Mayer didn’t budge. “I don’t take orders.”

One of the wolves snarled and jumped. Mayer twisted, steel flashing. Her blade sliced across its shoulder, silver sizzling against flesh. The beast howled, staggering back, but the second came fast, jaws snapping for her throat.

A bolt sang past her ear, burying itself between the wolf’s eyes.

The creature collapsed mid-leap, crashing at her feet.

Mayer spun to glare at Bryan, but the words froze in her throat.

His eyes glowed.

Amber, sharp, alive with something wild and menacing. For a heartbeat, he wasn’t a boy with a weapon—he was something else. Something that shouldn’t exist.

The first wolf growled again, limping toward him. Bryan moved before she could blink. Not like a hunter. Not like prey. His body flowed, ducking, spinning, seizing the beast by the scruff and slamming it into the wall with a strength that defied explanation.

Bone cracked. The wolf whimpered once, then stilled.

Mayer’s pulse thundered in her ears. No human fights like that.

Bryan stood over the corpse, chest heaving, crossbow still in hand. His eyes dimmed back to normal, but the echo of that glow burned into Mayer’s mind.

She opened her mouth to demand answers—

—and froze.

A sound rolled through the alley. Not a growl. Not a snarl. Something deeper. Reverent.

Mayer’s blade gleamed under the broken streetlight as she circled, steps careful, breaths sharp. The rogue wolves she thought were the threat were nothing compared to the three figures that emerged now.

These were not rogues.

They were taller. Broader. Their fur was streaked with silver and black, their eyes burning with cold intelligence. Higher-class. Wolves with lineage and purpose.

Bryan stiffened beside her, crossbow raised, knuckles white.

The first wolf sniffed the air, then froze. Its lips peeled back from yellowed fangs. “That scent…”

The second lowered its massive head, growl rumbling through the pavement. “No. It cannot be.”

The third leaned forward, voice dripping with hatred. “The blood of Amark.”

Bryan flinched, confusion flashing across his face. “What—?”

Then, as one, the three wolves bared their teeth, their growls blending into a roar.

“PRINCE!”

The word ripped through the alley, sharp as a blade.

Bryan staggered back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The leader snarled. “The son of the monster. The heir to chains. We should tear your throat out before you rise.”

And then they attacked.

The first wolf lunged at Bryan with terrifying speed. He fired a bolt, the string snapping against his fingers, the arrow burying into its chest—but the beast kept coming, its claws raking the wall where Bryan’s head had been seconds before.

Mayer moved without thinking, blade flashing across another wolf’s flank. Silver burned, the beast howling, but instead of retreating, it twisted toward her, rage boiling in its eyes.

The third slammed into Bryan, knocking the crossbow from his hands. His back hit the brick wall with a crunch that made Mayer wince.

“Prince,” the wolf spat, breath hot, teeth inches from Bryan’s throat. “Die like the traitor’s spawn you are!”

Something inside Bryan snapped.

He shoved back—not with fear, not with desperation, but with a strength that wasn’t his. His fingers dug into the wolf’s jaw, forcing it back. His eyes flashed amber, brighter than before, his teeth gritted in a snarl that didn’t sound human.

Mayer froze mid-swing.

For an instant, Bryan didn’t look like prey. He looked like one of them.

The wolf hissed, thrashing. “Your blood betrays you, boy. You cannot hide what you are!”

Bryan roared, slamming his knee into the beast’s gut, forcing it back. He snatched the fallen crossbow and fired point-blank into its chest. The wolf shrieked and collapsed, smoke curling from its wound.

The other two circled, their anger raised, hatred vibrating in the air.

“Kill him,” one snarled. “End the Prince before he rises.”

Mayer’s heart thundered. This wasn’t what Owen had said. Bryan wasn’t supposed to be anything—just a human tool, bait to draw wolves out. But the way they said it—the way they spat Prince like poison—made her blood run cold.

Bryan staggered, panting, crossbow trembling in his grip. His voice cracked. “Stop calling me that. I’m not—I’m not him!”

But even as he said it, his eyes glowed again.

Amber. Wild.

The wolves howled, circling tighter. Mayer raised her blade, torn between instinct and orders. She should kill Bryan now, before the wolves finished him. That was the mission. That was what Owen would want.

But her body didn’t move.

Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure who the enemy was.

The wolves snarled again, readying to strike.

Bryan planted his feet, amber burning in his eyes, crossbow raised with shaking hands.

The wolves echoed again, venom dripping from their throats—

“PRINCE!”