### Chapter Six – The Uncle in the Shadows ###
(Phele's POV)
The night air pressed thick against the rooftops of Chicago, heavy with the scent of blood, smoke, and betrayal.
Lord Pheles crouched in silence, his black cloak blending with the darkness, eyes glowing faintly silver as he peered down into the alley below.
He had followed the scent on a whim. A pull. Something he could not name. And now, His chest tightened.
"Bryan…"
The name slipped past his lips, no louder than a whisper swallowed by the wind.
Alive. The boy was alive.
For nineteen years he had convinced himself one of his brother's sons had survived. Bruno—yes, Bruno he had found, hidden, protected, raised away from Amark's shadow. But Bryan? He had long been a ghost in Pheles' mind, a faint memory drowned in Samantha's blood and fire.
Yet there he was. Not a dream. Not a phantom. A boy—no, a man—standing against three higher-class wolves who called him Prince.
Pheles' fingers curled into his palms. The wolves weren't wrong. That blood ran through him. Amark's blood. Samantha's grief. His brother's legacy wrapped in flesh and bone.
And Bryan, he had no idea.
The wolves struck again. Pheles watched, torn between the instinct to leap down and tear them apart, but he had to stay and watch how strong Bryan has become.
Every claw that scraped Bryan's skin made his gut twist. Every flash of amber in Bryan's eyes made his pulse stutter. The boy was awakening. The wolf inside him had started to claw its way out.
He remembered Samantha's voice, gentle, defiant—on the night she died.
"Promise me, Pheles. If they survive… protect them. Don't let Amark destroy them."
He had promised. And failed.
Until now.
Below, Bryan fired his crossbow, one wolf dropping with a howl. Mayer Christabel moved like a blade of light, steel flashing, eyes hard. Pheles narrowed his gaze on her. Owen's assistant. The hunter's shadow. She was dangerous—too dangerous to be near Bryan.
Yet Bryan fought beside her, not against her.
Strange.
The remaining wolves circled. "Kill him before he rises!" one snarled.
Pheles' jaw clenched. His hand gripped the hilt of the silvered dagger at his side, but he did not draw it. Not yet.
This was Bryan's fight. His awakening. If Pheles interfered too soon, Bryan would never learn his own strength.
And yet… if Bryan fell, the world would lose its only chance.
His thoughts darkened. What happens if Amark finds out? What happens when he learns both sons live?
Amark would not rest. He would wage war on the hunters, on humans, on every wolf who dared bow to another. The world would drown in blood.
Pheles' heart ached. He loved his brother once. But Amark had become a monster that even his sons would have to kill.
A scream split the alley. Bryan was thrown against the wall, chest heaving, eyes burning amber again. The wolf inside him clawed for release. Mayer shouted something he could not hear, steel slicing through the night.
Pheles closed his eyes, the conflict tearing him in two.
To reveal himself was to break every law he had sworn to keep. To stay hidden was to abandon his blood.
And yet… maybe there was another path. A way to guide Bryan from the shadows.
The boy had inherited Amark's strength. But would he inherit his cruelty? Or Samantha's kindness?
That choice was not yet made.
Pheles leaned back into the shadows, voice a whisper meant for no ears but his own.
"Rise, my nephew. Prove the blood wrong. Prove him wrong."
As Bryan's roar split the night, shaking the alley walls, Pheles vanished into the dark—an unseen guardian, torn between duty and love.