### Chapter Eleven – The Truth in His Eyes ###
Bryan hadn't made it more than a block from the bar before he heard the scrape of the door behind him.
"Boy!"
Pa Clever's unpleasantly harsh voice cut through the night air.
Bryan didn't turn at first. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. He didn't have time for another dismissal, another smoke-and-mirror trick. But there was something different in the tone, something Bryan had never heard before.
Not mockery. Not irritation.
Weight.
Slowly, Bryan turned.
Clever stood in the doorway, the dim light catching the sharp creases of his face. He wasn't leaning on the frame with that casual arrogance anymore. His shoulders sagged, his eyes steady.
"Come here," Clever said. "You want answers? Then you'll get them. All of them."
Bryan's heart jolted. He didn't move for a moment, torn between suspicion and need. Then, with stiff steps, he walked back.
---
The bar had emptied some in the last half hour. A few drunks muttered at the counter, heads heavy on their arms. The television still hummed in the corner, but Bryan barely noticed.
Clever sat back in the booth, fresh glass of gin untouched before him. He gestured with his hand for Bryan to sit.
Bryan sat on the seat, pulse hammering.
Clever stared at him, and for the first time in years, Bryan saw something that unsettled him more than any wolf's glowing eyes.
Honesty.
"You're not a kid anymore," Clever said. His voice was low, stripped of its usual dryness. "I suppose you're matured enough and you deserve to know the truth."
Bryan's stomach turned cold. He gripped the edge of the table. "The truth about what?"
Clever leaned back, sighing as though a weight pressed against his chest. "About who you are. About your mother. About the blood that runs in your veins."
Clever said again. "I don't really know much about your paternal side, but I know about your mom a lot."
Clever began.
"I knew your mom a long time ago, boy. Long before you were born. I've known Samantha."
The name hit Bryan like a punch. He hadn't heard it in years, not spoken by another living tongue. His throat tightened.
"She worked under me," Clever continued, eyes fixed on some distant place. "My secretary. Bright. Kind. Too kind, maybe. She made the office feel less like a tomb. I trusted her. I…" He trailed off, swallowing something unspoken. "I cared for her. In my way."
Bryan blinked, stunned. Clever had always been stone. Hearing the hint of feeling in his voice was like watching iron bend.
"One day," Clever said, "she told me she was resigning. Out of nowhere. She was already pregnant then. I asked who the father was, but she wouldn't say. Just gave me that sad little smile of hers and left."
Bryan's chest ached. Images of a woman he barely remembered flickered in his head—warm eyes, gentle hands, a lullaby half-lost to memory.
Clever's hand tightened around his glass. "But I did my own digging. And I found out who he was. The father of her children. Bryan, it was none other than Amark."
The name froze the air between them.
Clever leaned forward, voice harsh with the weight of memory. "Amark—the almighty Alpha. The strongest werewolf who ever lived. Back then he was calm, controlled. But that power of his, that will of his… it twisted him. Turned him into something feared by nations."
Bryan's vision swam. He gripped the table harder, his nails biting into the wood.
"Six years later," Clever went on, "Amark turned from guarding humans to hunting them. Said it was for peace, to drive fear into men so they'd never rise against his kind. But it wasn't peace—it was tyranny, he dominated through violence. And in that madness, he killed your mother. And your brother."
The world tilted.
Bryan's breath came sharp, shallow. "My… brother?"
Clever's eyes flickered, regret buried in their depths. "Yes. You had one. A twin. Both of you should've died that night. I thought you had. Until three years ago, when I found you. Half-wild, filthy, crawling through alleys like some starved animal. I recognized you—your mother's eyes, her face. And I knew what blood you carried."
Bryan's throat burned. He wanted to scream, to deny it, but the words lodged like stones.
"I kept my mouth shut," Clever said, his voice low. "Because if hunters knew who you were, they'd kill you on the spot. No hesitation. You're a threat in their eyes. A mark of Amark's cruelty. I figured the best way to keep you alive was to use you. As my blade. My shield. My… income."
He looked down at the untouched gin. "I knew it wasn't right. But it kept you breathing. And it kept suspicion off your back."
Bryan's hands shook. His breath ragged.
"So," Clever said finally, lifting his gaze, his tone as sharp as iron. "That's your truth. Son of the Alpha. Born with blood that nations still curse. If Amark learns you live… no one can say what this world will look like after. And if hunters learn… they'll end you without blinking."
Silence swallowed the booth.
Bryan's pulse thundered in his ears. His whole body trembled, heat rising in his skin.
He wanted to laugh, to curse, to tear the table apart with his bare hands.
Instead, he whispered, voice breaking, "You used me."
Clever didn't flinch. "Yes."
"You let me hate myself. Hate wolves. Hate everything. When all along—you knew."
"You wouldn't have survived the truth back then," Clever said firmly. "You're barely surviving it now."
Bryan's chair screeched against the floor as he moved back. His chest heaved. He felt like his lungs had turned to fire.
Memories slammed into him—his mother's scream, his brother's absence, the word Prince snarled by wolves.
It all made sense now. And yet it didn't.
He was no hunter.
No orphan.
He was Amark's son.
The thought hollowed him, poisoned him, burned him alive from the inside.
"Bryan." Clever's voice, softer now. "If you want to live, bury this truth. No one can know. Not Owen. Not Mayer. Not anyone. Do you understand?"
Bryan turned, face shadowed, eyes wet but blazing with something deeper than pain.
"I understand," he said hoarsely.
But in his chest, a storm raged.
He understood.
He just didn't know if he would obey.
---
Outside, the night stretched vast and endless. Bryan stepped into it, his heart pounding, his blood singing with revelations he didn't want but couldn't deny.
Above, the moon broke through a sea of clouds.
And somewhere in the darkness, a howl rose.
Long. Low. Calling to him.