WEREWOLVES MAY CRY

Chapter 9 - Shadows and Lies

### Chapter Nine – Shadows and Lies ###

(Mayer POV)

Mayer’s boots clicked against the marble floor as she walked down the dim hallway of Owen Zender’s headquarters. The building stood like a fortress in the heart of Chicago—iron, steel, and reinforced glass. No one came in without clearance, and no one left without Owen knowing.

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, casting a sterile glow. She adjusted the strap of her blade at her side, pushing back the memory of Bryan’s eyes flaring amber. She needed to be careful with what she said tonight. Very careful.

The double doors at the end of the hall opened with a groan of hinges. The office inside was vast, lined with shelves of weapons: silver blades, crossbows, rifles modified with ultraviolet scopes. On the far wall hung mounted skulls—wolf skulls, each with a placard naming the beast it had once belonged to.

Behind a sleek black desk sat Owen Zender.

He didn’t look up right away. His eyes scanned a file, fingers tapping the desk in a steady rhythm. His presence filled the room like a storm held in human form. Broad-shouldered, jaw lined with gray stubble, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

“Mayer.” His voice was low, even, but it carried weight. “Report.”

She straightened, holding both hands behind her back. “Encounter with three higher-class wolves in Sector Six. They were… aggressive. More organized than the usual ones.”

Owen’s eyes flicked up, pale and unblinking. “Casualties?”

“One down.” She kept her tone steady. “Two fled.”

“And the boy?”

The question stabbed through her calm. She masked her hesitation with a quick inhale. “Alive. Useful, as you predicted. His presence drew them out exactly as planned.”

Owen leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Good. He’ll make a fine lure if he survives long enough.”

Mayer’s jaw clenched. She forced her voice even. “He’s holding up. Tougher than he looks.”

“Tough doesn’t matter,” Owen said. “He’s disposable. Remember that.”

Her stomach twisted, but she gave a crisp nod. “Yes, sir.”

Owen stood, walking to the wall of skulls. His fingers traced the jagged bone of one massive specimen. The skull of a wolf so large it barely fit the mount.

“Lord Amark,” Owen said softly, almost reverently. “The strongest werewolf ever lived. My sister’s murderer. My enemy. He still breathes, Mayer. I can feel it. And as long as he does, the world will never know peace.”

Mayer kept her eyes forward, her throat tight. She had heard the story many times. Owen’s sister, Samantha. killed by the Alpha himself. The memory had shaped his life, turned him into the weapon he was.

He turned back to her, his eyes sharp. “These higher-class wolves you faced. Did they say anything?”

Mayer’s pulse quickened. Images flashed in her mind: the wolves snarling Prince, Bryan’s eyes burning amber, his voice breaking with denial.

She kept her face neutral. “They called him prey. Nothing unusual. Just wanted blood.”

Owen studied her in silence. Too much silence. He had a way of staring as if he could peel the back of a skin and see the truth underneath.

“Hmm.” He turned, pacing slowly back to his desk. “Strange. I expected them to scatter. Not close in on him. Not with such… purpose.”

Mayer kept her breathing steady. “Maybe they’re growing desperate. Or maybe they mistook him for something else.”

Owen’s lips twitched—half a smile, half a sneer. “Mistook? Wolves don’t make mistakes, Mayer. They follow scent. Blood. Instinct. If they converged on him, it was for a reason.”

Her throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to deflect, but silence was safer.

Owen sank back into his chair. “Keep watching him. Push him harder. If he breaks, we’ll find another bait. If he survives…” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Then perhaps he’ll lead us to Amark himself.”

Mayer stiffened. “Understood.”

But inside, unease coiled like a snake. She remembered the way Bryan had snarled, strength flooding his body, the glow in his eyes that couldn’t be explained away.

If Owen ever saw that… Bryan wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.

Owen’s gaze softened just slightly, a rare flicker of something human beneath the iron mask. “Mayer.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ve been at my side three years. You’ve proven your worth. But loyalty is not tested in victories. It’s tested in secrets.” His eyes sharpened again. “Don’t keep any from me.”

Her pulse thudded in her ears. She forced herself to nod. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

The meeting was over. She turned and walked towards the door, every step measured, her face a mask. Only when the heavy doors shut behind her did she allow herself to exhale, her body sagging against the cold steel.

Her reflection stared back at her in the polished surface—eyes shadowed, jaw tight. She had lied to Owen. Lied to the one man she had never dared cross.

And for what?

For a boy with haunted eyes, a broken laugh, and a secret written in his blood.

She closed her eyes, the memory of Bryan’s amber gaze burning behind her lids.

What are you, Bryan?

And why, against all reason, do I want to protect you?