Chapter 102 The Widow's Plight
MOIRA
The cottage is cold. Always cold in Scottish Highlands. Even with fire burning, drafts find every crack.
I wrap another blanket around Finn. Eight months old. Born wolf. Perfect dark hair. Eyes like his father's.
His father who abandoned us.
Cormac Brennan. Alpha of London's Brennan pack. My lover for three years before his father died.
Before everything changed.
The Scottish pack I'm staying with barely tolerates me. Unwed mother. Pregnant by London wolf. Brought shame to their traditional community.
They took me in because pack law requires it. But they make sure I know I'm burden.
"Another letter came," Mrs. MacLeod says from the doorway. She's the pack elder's wife. In charge of "managing" me. "From London. Your man."
"He's not my man." I take the letter. Don't open it. "Cormac made that clear when he stopped returning my calls."
"Then why does he write?"
"He doesn't. These are probably legal documents. Establishing that Finn has no claim to pack inheritance."
I've received four letters like this. Each one variations on same theme: Cormac acknowledges biological paternity but accepts no responsibility. Finn is not pack heir. Moira receives no support. Contact is discouraged.
Legal rejection. Efficient. Cold. Very Cormac.
Mrs. MacLeod leaves. I finally open the letter.
It's not legal document.
It's newspaper clipping. London supernatural press. Headline: "Parliamentary Hunters Deploy Against Rookeries Resistance."
Article describes extermination order. Organized packless wolves. Leadership by exiled wolf named Callum Brennan.
Brennan.
Cormac's twin brother.
I scan the article. Parliamentary assault scheduled for dawn. Over hundred hunters. Total elimination planned. Alpha Cormac Brennan volunteering pack enforcers to assist.
Cormac's leading the attack against his own brother.
My stomach turns.
I knew Cormac was ambitious. Knew he framed Callum to secure Alpha position. Knew their relationship was destroyed.
But this?
Leading an extermination? Personally ensuring his twin's death?
I look at Finn. Sleeping peacefully. Innocent. Perfect.
His father is monster.
I've known this for months. Since Cormac stopped answering calls. Since he sent legal rejection letters. Since he made clear Finn's existence was inconvenient problem to be managed legally and forgotten emotionally.
But knowing abstractly is different from seeing proof in newspaper.
Cormac's capable of fratricide. Capable of genocide. Capable of anything if it advances his power.
What does that mean for Finn?
The baby shifts in his sleep. Makes tiny wolf sounds. His nature already showing even at eight months.
He's born wolf. Pureblood. Cormac's firstborn son despite what the legal letters say.
If Cormac ever changes his mind, if he ever decides Finn is useful instead of inconvenient, what then?
Will he take my son? Raise him as heir? Teach him the same cruelty?
Or will he continue ignoring us? Pretending Finn doesn't exist?
I don't know which is worse.
The cottage door opens. Mr. MacLeod enters. Pack elder. Stern face. Traditional values. Barely concealed disgust for my situation.
"Moira. We need to talk."
"About?"
"Your situation here. It's been eight months. You've recovered from birth. Time to discuss long-term arrangements."
Long-term arrangements. Code for "when are you leaving."
"I have nowhere else to go."
"You have the baby's father. In London. He's Alpha. Wealthy. He should be supporting you."
"Cormac made it clear. No support. No contact. No acknowledgment beyond legal paternity."
"That's not acceptable. Pack law requires fathers to support their children."
"Cormac doesn't follow pack law. He makes it." I hold Finn closer. "We're on our own."
Mr. MacLeod's face hardens. "This pack has been generous. Providing shelter, food, protection. But generosity has limits. You need to establish independence or return to London and force the father to accept responsibility."
"I can't go back to London."
"Why not?"
"Because Cormac's dangerous. Because forcing him to acknowledge Finn might get us both killed. Because right now, being ignored is safest option."
"Safest for you maybe. Not for this pack's reputation. Harboring unwed mother strains our traditional values. Other packs are talking."
"Let them talk."
"Easy to say when you're not the one facing judgment." He moves toward the door. "You have one month. Find work. Find housing. Establish that you're contributing, not just taking. Or you'll need to leave."
He exits.
I'm alone with Finn again.
One month. To find employment as single mother with eight-month-old baby. In pack that barely tolerates me. In Highland village with no opportunities.
Impossible.
Unless I go back to London.
Face Cormac.
Demand he acknowledge his son.
Risk everything.
I read the newspaper article again. The extermination is scheduled for tomorrow dawn. By the time I could travel to London, it'll be over.
Either Cormac will have killed his brother and consolidated power further.
Or Callum will have survived and proven Cormac's not invincible.
Either way, London's supernatural community is about to change.
Maybe that creates opportunity. Maybe chaos means Cormac's too distracted to threaten us. Maybe I can return without danger.
Or maybe the extermination succeeds and Cormac becomes even more powerful. Even more dangerous. Even more capable of taking Finn if he decides a pureblood heir is politically useful.
I don't know which outcome to hope for.
Part of me wants Callum to win. Wants Cormac humiliated. Wants the brother I never met to prove the Alpha wrong.
But part of me wants Cormac to win. Wants him secure in power. Wants him to never look at Finn as potential heir because he doesn't need one.
I want Finn to be invisible. Forgotten. Safe.
"Your father's a monster," I whisper to my sleeping son. "But you're not. You're perfect. And I'll make sure you grow up nothing like him."
Finn opens his eyes. Dark like Cormac's. But his expression is innocent. Curious. Human.
Not monster. Not yet. Maybe never.
"We'll figure this out," I promise. "Somehow. We'll survive."
The fire crackles. Wind howls outside. Scotland in November is brutal.
But at least it's far from London. Far from Cormac. Far from whatever's about to happen tomorrow at dawn.
Tomorrow, brothers face each other across battlefield.
Tomorrow, one of them probably dies.
Tomorrow, London changes forever.
And I'll be here. In cold cottage. Holding my son. Hoping we stay forgotten.
Because being remembered by Cormac Brennan is death sentence.
For me.
And for Finn.