Chapter 142 Unwanted Truths
Lucian's POV
Iris had just messaged to say Ash had gone to bed. I pocketed my phone and headed to my car when a figure rose from the bench near the elevator.
Daniel had been waiting hours—his legs stiff, nearly stumbling as he stood. I steadied him instinctively, then stepped back the moment he found his balance.
"Mr. Kincaid," he started, his voice hoarse. "I need to talk to you about Ash. About where he came from."
"No." I moved past him toward my car.
His footsteps followed, quickening despite the obvious pain in his joints. "Please, just five minutes. I need to know—is it true that he was adopted?"
I kept walking, pulling my keys from my pocket. The car's lights flashed as I unlocked it.
"Where did your family find him?" Daniel pressed, his voice taking on a desperate edge. "Was it during the winter? Twenty years ago?"
My hand paused on the car door handle. I turned slowly to face him, studying his face in the dim parking garage light. "My mother found a newborn baby abandoned during a blizzard twenty years ago. She brought him home. That's all you need to know."
Daniel's face went completely white, all the blood draining from his features in an instant. He stumbled forward as I opened the car door, his hand reaching out to grip the frame. "Please, I'm begging you. Let me do a DNA test. Just one test, that's all I'm asking. If he's not my son, I'll leave you both alone, I swear it, but if he is—"
I slid into the driver's seat and looked up at him through the open door. "And if the result isn't what you want? What then? You've lived twenty years without him. What makes him worth claiming now?"
Daniel's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I started the engine and pulled the door shut, watching him shrink in the rearview mirror as I drove away.
But when I turned onto my street fifteen minutes later, I found him waiting at my front gate. The man was nothing if not persistent.
"I didn't want to do this," Daniel said as I approached. "But if you continue preventing paternity testing, I can petition the Wolf Council for a mandatory DNA order under Section 47. They'll grant it within forty-eight hours."
I stepped closer until we were a foot apart. "If you've been searching for your son for twenty years, why no public appeals? No missing person reports, no media campaigns. Remarkably private for someone claiming to be heartbroken."
His jaw tightened.
"And when Ash was hospitalized for months, his legs crushed, where were you? Did you visit? Call? Or did you only care about DNA and legal claims?"
Daniel's face went gray. His lips moved soundlessly. I watched the fight drain from him as he turned and walked to his car. I waited until his taillights disappeared before entering the house.
The living room was dark except for moonlight through the windows. Ash sat in his wheelchair facing the door, tears on his cheeks.
"She said I was found in a dumpster," he whispered. "Is that true? Was I thrown away?"
I knelt before him, meeting his eyes. "Part of what she said is true. But you are Ash Kincaid, and I am your brother. That will never change."
His knuckles whitened on the armrests. "When I was little, kids called me a bastard. Said I was picked from the trash. I fought them, came home bloody. Mom said they were lying. But it was true, wasn't it? I really was garbage someone threw away."
"You were a baby who deserved better than the circumstances you were given," I said firmly. "That's not the same thing."
"That woman—" Ash's breath hitched. "She's going to take me away, isn't she? She's going to make me live with them, and I'll have to leave you and—"
He spun the wheelchair sharply, trying to retreat, but the turn was too fast. The chair tilted dangerously and I lunged forward, catching him before he fell. His hands clutched my shirt as I steadied the chair, then he was sobbing against my shoulder.
"You're twenty years old," I said quietly. "A legal adult and recognized pack member. No one can force you to do anything. Not the Crosses, not the Council. You choose where you belong."
"I choose here," Ash choked out. "I choose you. Please don't let them take me."
"I won't. No one is taking you anywhere."
I helped him to bed and waited until he settled before returning to the living room. Sleep didn't come easily. Three times that night I heard him cry out from nightmares—"Don't send me away, please don't send me away." Each time I stood outside his door, listening to his breathing calm, my hand pressed against the wood but never turning the handle. By morning his pillow would be soaked through.
The next day I left early for Sterling Pharmaceuticals, instructing Iris to stay close to Ash. My secretary had prepared files for my afternoon meeting with Vincent, but my attention kept drifting to the top floor where Dominic had been holding closed-door meetings in the secure conference room all week.
I made my way to the laboratory wing, using my clearance to access the equipment storage room that shared a ventilation shaft with the conference room above. The recording device I'd planted three days ago had collected hours of audio, which I transferred to my encrypted drive.
Dominic's voice came through clearly: "This batch needs to move within the week. The FBI is getting too close—I think we have a leak. Tell the Mexico contacts to expedite the final shipment. Once this clears, we're shutting down the pipeline for at least six months."
I copied the file three times, storing it across different secure servers before erasing the original from the device. If Dominic suspected surveillance, I couldn't leave evidence of the recording equipment.
When I returned home that evening, Daniel Cross was waiting at my gate again. This time, he had a lawyer with him, a sharp-faced woman in an expensive suit who stepped forward before Daniel could speak.
"Mr. Kincaid, I'm Rebecca Hartwell, Mr. Cross's legal counsel. Continued interference with this process constitutes illegal obstruction of parental rights and could be classified as unlawful confinement."
I took the business card she extended and tore it in half without looking at it. "And if your DNA test comes back negative, how exactly will you explain twenty years of negligence? I can just as easily file harassment charges and a restraining order. This is my territory, and you're trespassing. Last warning—leave."
They left, but the damage was done. Inside, Iris met me at the door, her usually calm face creased with worry.
"He's barely eaten anything all day," she reported quietly. "Just half a muffin this morning. He's been in his room crying since lunch."
I walked to Ash's door and stood there, listening to the muffled sounds of his sobbing. My hand reached for the doorknob, hesitated, then fell away. Instead, I leaned against the doorframe and spoke just loudly enough for him to hear through the wood.
"Take all the time you need. I'll be right here."
The crying didn't stop, but it quieted slightly, as if he'd heard me.
That night, snow began falling outside the windows, thick and heavy. My phone rang just after ten, and Briar's name lit up the screen.
"Ash doesn't need to be trapped inside your house right now," she said without preamble. "Bring him to the clearing by Northwood Trail. Let him throw some snowballs, scream at the trees, whatever he needs to do."
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, watching the snowflakes accumulate on the window ledge.
"I'm not doing it for you," Briar said bluntly. "I just don't like seeing a good kid suffocate under fear. Now put him on the phone."
I walked to Ash's door and knocked. "Ash, Briar wants to talk to you."
The lock clicked, and the door opened a crack. I held out my phone, and after a moment, Ash took it.
I couldn't hear what Briar said, but Ash's expression shifted from misery to something almost like hope. When he handed the phone back, his voice was still hoarse but steadier.
"Okay," he said. "I'll come. Just let me change clothes."