Chapter 122 His Child!
CORMAC
I've been hiding in Manchester for three weeks. Different city. Different wolves. Nobody knows me here. Nobody cares about fallen London Alpha.
Perfect anonymity. Perfect exile. Perfect punishment.
Then Moira finds me.
I'm in a pub when she walks in. Holding a baby. One year old maybe. Dark hair. Familiar eyes.
My eyes.
"Cormac." Her voice is cold. Angry. Determined. "We need to talk."
I try to leave. Can't face this. Can't face her. Not after everything.
She blocks the door. "You need to know your son."
Son. The word hits like silver bullet. "I don't have a son."
"Yes you do. His name is Finn. He's one year old. Born wolf. Pureblood. Your genetic heir whether you acknowledge him or not."
I look at the baby. Really look. He's got my face. My bone structure. My wolfish features already showing despite his age.
Undeniably mine. Undeniably real. Undeniably inconvenient.
"What do you want?" I ask. "Money? Support? Apology?"
"I want you to be a father. Not an Alpha. Not a leader. Just a person who acknowledges his child."
"I can't be father. I'm nothing. Disgraced. Exiled. Corrupted. Everything I touch gets destroyed."
"Then don't touch much. But acknowledge him. Say he exists. Say he matters." Moira's crying now. Furious tears. "I've been alone for over a year. Raising him in Scottish pack that judges me constantly. Struggling with poverty and shame. While you were playing Alpha in London."
"I'm not Alpha anymore."
"I know. I read about the battle. About your exposure. About your corruption." She sits across from me. Finn in her arms. "That's why I'm here now. While you're vulnerable. While you might actually listen."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Say you're sorry. Say you shouldn't have abandoned us. Say Finn deserves better." She's not asking. Demanding. "Say something human for once."
I look at Finn. At my son. At the child I created and ignored. At the life I was too proud to acknowledge.
"I'm sorry," I finally say. "For abandoning you. For ignoring him. For being exactly what you think I am."
"What's that?"
"Monster. Corrupted. Broken. Everything wrong with Alpha culture." I touch Finn's hand. He grabs my finger. Strong grip for one-year-old. "He deserves better than me."
"Yes. But he deserves acknowledgment more." Moira's voice softens slightly. "I'm not asking you to be perfect. Not asking you to transform overnight. Just asking you to say he's yours. To let him know his father exists."
"Why? What good does that do?"
"Because identity matters. Because knowing where you come from matters. Because being rejected is better than being ignored." She adjusts Finn in her arms. "You can't be Alpha anymore. But you can be father. That's something. That's worthwhile."
I study my son. Born wolf. Pureblood. Legitimate heir to Brennan pack by traditional law.
If I hadn't destroyed everything. If I hadn't corrupted myself. If I hadn't lost all authority.
Finn could have been heir. Proper succession. Traditional. Respected.
Instead he's bastard child of disgraced Alpha. Nothing. Nobody. Irrelevant.
"What do you want from me?" I ask. "Specifically. Practically. What can I actually provide?"
"Acknowledgment. Financial support if possible. Presence if you're capable." Moira's list is reasonable. Minimal. "I'm not asking you to be Alpha. Be a father. Show up occasionally. Let him know you exist. That's all."
"I can do that. Maybe. If I figure out how to exist without Alpha identity."
"Then figure it out. For him." She stands. Prepares to leave. "We're staying in London for now. Scottish pack asked me to leave. Too much judgment. Too much shame. I'm finding work here. Building new life."
"Where in London?"
"Camden. Small flat. Nothing special. But safe enough." She writes down address. "Visit sometime. When you're ready. When you're capable of being person instead of monster."
She leaves. Takes Finn with her. Takes my chance at redemption with her.
I sit alone. Processing. Understanding.
I have a son. Legitimate. Pureblood. Born wolf. Everything traditional wolves value.
And I'm too corrupted to claim him. Too destroyed to be father he deserves.
The irony is perfect. Callum has no children but has community. Has love. Has purpose.
I have biological heir but nothing else. No pack. No respect. No identity.
Three days later, word spreads. London's wolf community is small. Gossip travels fast.
Cormac Brennan has pureblood son. Legitimate heir. Traditional succession.
Traditionalist wolves are interested. Very interested.
They come to me. Old wolves. Conservatives. Believers in bloodline and heritage.
"Alpha Brennan," they say. Formal. Respectful. "We heard about your son."
"I'm not Alpha."
"Bloodline doesn't disappear because of mistakes. You're still Brennan heir. Your son is Brennan heir's heir." The eldest wolf speaks carefully. "Traditional law is clear. Pureblood succession. Finn is legitimate heir to Brennan pack."
"Callum's the one leading now. Rookeries community. Parliament recognition. He's earned authority."
"Callum's exiled Omega. Second-born. No legitimate claim." The wolf pulls out pack law documents. "According to traditional succession: firstborn son's firstborn son inherits. That's Finn. Not Callum."
I stare at the documents. Pack law. Traditional. Ancient. Clear.
Finn is rightful heir. Legally. Traditionally. Undeniably.
"What are you proposing?"
"Recognition. Acknowledgment. Establishing Finn's claim. When he comes of age, he can challenge for Alpha position. Traditional. Legal. Proper."
"He's one year old."
"Heirs are established early. Raised properly. Trained specifically. By the time he's eighteen, he'll be ready." The wolf smiles. "Meanwhile, you can be regent. Acting Alpha. Guiding him. Preparing him."
"I abdicated. Walked away. Lost all authority."
"You lost political authority. Not bloodline authority. Different concepts. We can rebuild pack under traditional law. Acknowledge Finn as heir. Position you as regent. Restore proper order."
It's tempting. So tempting. Chance to reclaim something. To matter again. To use my son as tool for power restoration.
But that's exactly what's wrong. Using. Tool. Power.
Finn's not tool. He's child. Person. Innocent.
"No," I say. "I won't use my son for political restoration. Won't turn him into heir just to serve my ambitions. He deserves better."
"He deserves his birthright. Brennan pack leadership. Traditional succession. Proper heritage."
"He deserves childhood first. Let him be child before making him heir. Let him choose his path instead of forcing it."
The traditionalists are disappointed. "You're wasting opportunity. Wasting legitimate succession. Wasting everything traditional wolves value."
"Maybe. But I've wasted enough already. Won't waste my son too." I stand. "Finn exists. He's acknowledged. That's all I'm giving you."
They leave. Frustrated. But word is out now. Irreversible.
Cormac has pureblood son. Maybe the real heir is this child. Maybe traditional succession still matters.
London's wolf politics just got more complicated. And my son is center of it.
Whether I want him to be or not.