Chapter 13 The Beginning of the End
POV: Callum Brennan
Location: Supernatural Holding Facility, Central London
Time: Days After Arrest
The holding cell is underground, three levels beneath what humans think is an abandoned office building. The walls are concrete reinforced with spells that suppress supernatural abilities. I can't shift here. Can't access my full strength. Can't do anything except sit on this metal bench and wait.
My wrists are still burned from the silver cuffs. They removed them when they threw me in here, but the damage is done. The skin is raw and blistered, healing slower than it should because of the silver poisoning. Every movement sends sharp pain up my arms.
I've been here for two days. Forty-eight hours of sitting in this cell, replaying everything in my mind, trying to figure out who would frame me for murder. The list of people who even could do something like this is short. It would take resources, connections, access to pack territory. It would take someone with power.
But I don't know anyone who'd want to destroy me. I'm not a threat to anyone. I've never been a threat to anyone.
The door at the end of the corridor opens. Footsteps echo on the concrete. A guard appears outside my cell, a vampire with dead eyes and a bored expression.
"Visitor," the guard says, unlocking the cell door.
Sarah walks in. My girlfriend. The person I've been dating for almost a year. The one I thought would stand by me no matter what.
But the look on Sarah's face tells me everything I need to know before she even speaks.
"Sarah." I stand up, trying to smile. Trying to pretend everything's okay. "Thank god you're here. I've been trying to call you but they took my phone."
Sarah doesn't move closer. She stays near the door, keeping distance between us like I'm dangerous. Like I'm something she needs to be careful around.
"I can't do this, Callum."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. "Can't do what?"
"This. Us. I can't be with someone who's accused of murder." Sarah's voice is shaking but her eyes are hard. "I saw the evidence. Your scent all over the crime scene. Your hair on the victim. They found a bloody shirt in your room."
"I didn't do it. Someone's framing me."
"That's what everyone says. Every criminal claims they're innocent." Sarah wraps her arms around herself. "But the evidence doesn't lie. And even if you didn't kill that human, the fact that you're in here, that you're being charged with this, it changes everything."
"So you're just going to abandon me? Without even hearing my side?"
"I heard your side. You claim you were framed. But you can't explain how your scent got all over the victim. You can't explain the bloody shirt. You can't explain any of it." Sarah's backing toward the door. "My family doesn't want me associated with you. My father said if I keep seeing you, I'm out of the pack. I can't risk that. I'm sorry."
"Sarah, please. You know me. You know I wouldn't hurt anyone."
"I thought I knew you. But maybe I was wrong." Sarah's already at the door, signaling the guard. "Goodbye, Callum. I hope you figure out what happened. But I can't wait around to find out."
The guard lets her out. Sarah doesn't look back. She just walks away, her footsteps fading down the corridor until I'm alone again.
I sink back onto the metal bench. My hands are shaking. Sarah just ended things like I was nothing to her. Like a year together meant nothing compared to protecting her pack status.
I want to be angry. Want to hate her for abandoning me. But mostly I'm just numb. Everything's falling apart so fast I can barely process it.
The next visitor comes six hours later. Marcus. Pack elder Marcus, the one who suggested I should be considered for Alpha at that meeting weeks ago. The one who's always been kind to me.
Marcus looks uncomfortable as the guard lets him into the cell. He sits on the bench but keeps space between us.
"Callum. How are you holding up?"
"I've been better." I try for a joke but it falls flat. "Thanks for visiting. I know it's not easy coming here."
"No, it's not." Marcus is quiet for a moment. "I wanted to come sooner but there's been a lot happening in the pack. Your brother's handling the situation as best he can."
"What situation?"
"The pack's divided. Some wolves believe you're innocent. Some think the evidence is too strong to ignore. It's causing friction." Marcus meets my eyes. "And then there's the other problem."
My stomach drops. "What other problem?"
"The financial audit. Your brother ordered a full review of pack accounts after your arrest. Standard procedure for this kind of accusation." Marcus pulls out a folder. "They found discrepancies. A lot of them."
"What kind of discrepancies?"
"Missing funds. About fifty thousand pounds over the past six months. The trail leads to an offshore account." Marcus opens the folder and shows me bank statements. "An account in your name."
I stare at the documents. They look official. Real. Bank letterhead, account numbers, transaction histories. All showing money being siphoned from pack accounts into an offshore account registered to Callum Brennan.
"This isn't mine. I don't have an offshore account."
"The bank disagrees. They have records showing you opened it two years ago during a trip to the Cayman Islands. Do you remember that trip?"
I do remember it. A vacation with some friends. Four days of beaches and diving and trying to forget about pack politics. But I didn't open any bank accounts.
"I was there for vacation. I didn't go to any banks."
"The records show otherwise." Marcus closes the folder. "Callum, I want to believe you. But the evidence keeps piling up. First the murder. Now embezzlement. It's getting harder to defend you."
"I didn't steal pack money. Someone's setting me up for that too."
"Who? Who would go to this much trouble? And why?" Marcus sounds tired. Like he's asked these questions a hundred times already. "You're Beta. You're respected. You have no enemies that anyone can identify. So who's doing this?"
"I don't know. But someone is. Someone with resources and connections and access to pack finances."
Marcus stands up. "I hope you're right. I hope you can prove it. Because right now, the pack's turning against you. Even wolves who liked you are starting to doubt. The evidence is too strong."
"So you're giving up on me too?"
"I'm not giving up. I'm being realistic." Marcus signals the guard. "Your trial's in two days. Whatever you're going to say in your defense, make it good. Because you're running out of time and support."
Marcus leaves. I'm alone again with bank statements that prove I'm a thief and a murderer.
Except I'm not. I'm neither of those things. But no one believes me.
More visitors come over the next day. Pack members I thought were friends. Wolves I've known for years. Every single one of them has the same look. Doubt. Suspicion. Distance.
Some of them ask questions. Where was I really the morning of the murder? Why is my scent everywhere? What about the bloody shirt? Did I really think I could get away with embezzling pack funds?
I answer honestly every time. I don't know. I was framed. Someone planted evidence. Someone wants me destroyed.
But my answers sound weak even to my own ears. I have no proof. No alternative explanation that makes sense. Just my word against mounting evidence.
By the end of the day, I've lost count of how many people have essentially said goodbye. How many relationships just ended because I'm accused of crimes I didn't commit.
My phone gets returned temporarily so I can call my lawyer. I dial the number Cormac gave me. Pack-provided legal defense. A lawyer who specializes in supernatural law.
The lawyer's name is Thomas Whitmore. He answers on the fourth ring, sounding distracted.
"Mr. Brennan. I was going to call you later today."
"I need to talk about my defense. The trial's in two days and I haven't heard anything about our strategy."
"Yes, about that." Thomas sounds uncomfortable. "I've reviewed the evidence against you. It's extensive. The prosecution has physical evidence, forensic evidence, financial records, witness statements. It's a very strong case."
"Because I was framed. Someone planted all of that evidence."
"That's an interesting theory, but we'd need proof. Do you have any evidence that you were framed? Any leads on who might have done this?"
"No. Not yet. But there has to be something. Some way to prove this is a setup."
"Mr. Brennan, I need to be honest with you." Thomas's voice drops. "I've been practicing supernatural law for fifteen years. I've seen a lot of cases. And this one, the evidence against you is some of the most damning I've ever encountered. Your scent saturating the crime scene. Your hair on the victim. A bloody shirt hidden in your residence. Financial records showing systematic embezzlement. This isn't a weak case. This is overwhelming."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you need to consider your options realistically. If we fight this and lose, which is very likely given the evidence, you're looking at maximum sentencing. Six months in supernatural prison followed by permanent exile from your pack. Packless status for life."
My blood runs cold. "And if I don't fight it?"
"If you plead guilty, show remorse, cooperate fully, the prosecutor might agree to reduced sentencing. Maybe four months prison, probation instead of permanent exile. There's a chance you could eventually rejoin a pack, maybe not your birth pack but somewhere."
"You want me to plead guilty to crimes I didn't commit?"
"I want you to make the smart choice. Fighting this with no evidence of framing, no alternative suspects, no proof of your innocence, that's suicide. You'll lose. You'll get maximum sentencing. You'll be packless forever." Thomas pauses. "Pleading guilty at least gives you a chance at some kind of future."
I'm gripping the phone so hard my knuckles are white. "You're supposed to defend me. You're supposed to believe I'm innocent."
"I'm supposed to give you the best legal advice possible. And the best advice I can give is to plead guilty, take the reduced sentence, and try to rebuild your life afterward."
"What if I refuse? What if I want to fight this?"
"Then I'll represent you to the best of my ability. But Mr. Brennan, I need you to understand. We will lose. The evidence is too strong. The prosecution is too prepared. Fighting this is throwing away any chance of leniency." Thomas sounds genuinely concerned now. "I've seen wolves make that choice before. The ones who fight losing battles. They end up in supernatural prison for years, then packless for life, and they never recover. Is that what you want?"
"I want justice. I want the truth."
"The truth is whatever the evidence says it is. And the evidence says you're guilty." Thomas sighs. "Think about what I said. You have until tomorrow to decide. Plead guilty and maybe salvage something, or fight and lose everything. Those are your options."
Thomas hangs up. I'm left staring at the phone, trying to process what just happened.
My own lawyer just advised me to plead guilty to murder and embezzlement. Crimes I didn't commit. Because fighting would be "suicide."
I throw the phone across the cell. It bounces off the concrete wall and clatters to the floor.
Everything's collapsing. Sarah's gone. My friends don't believe me. Pack members think I'm a criminal. The financial evidence makes me look like a thief. And now my own lawyer is telling me to confess to crimes I didn't commit.
Someone did this to me. Someone with resources and power and connections. Someone who could plant evidence, manipulate finances, and make it all look convincing enough that even people who know me are starting to doubt.
But who? Who benefits from destroying me?
I'm lying on the metal bench when the answer finally hits me. There's only one person who benefits from removing me completely. Only one person who's been paranoid about me since Father died. Only one person with access to everything needed to frame me perfectly.
Cormac.
My brother. My twin. The person I've trusted my entire life.
No. That's impossible. Cormac wouldn't do this to me. He's my brother. We grew up together. We promised Father we'd lead the pack together.
But the evidence makes sense if Cormac's behind it. He has access to my room where the bloody shirt was planted. He has access to pack finances to create the embezzlement trail. He has connections to vampires who could help fabricate evidence. He has motive because he's been threatened by my existence since becoming Alpha.
I don't want it to be true. I desperately don't want my brother to be the one destroying me.
But I can't ignore the logic anymore. Cormac's the only person who makes sense.
The guard appears outside my cell. "Another visitor."
It's Cormac. My brother walks in looking exhausted and devastated. There are dark circles under his eyes. His clothes are rumpled like he hasn't been sleeping.
"Callum." Cormac's voice breaks. "I'm so sorry. This is a nightmare."
I stare at my brother. Looking for signs of guilt. Signs that he's the one who did this to me.
But all I see is genuine pain. Genuine worry. Cormac looks like his world is falling apart.
"Did you do this?" The question comes out before I can stop it.
Cormac's face crumbles. "What? No. How could you even ask that?"
"Because you're the only one who makes sense. You have access. You have motive. You've been paranoid about me since Father died."
"I haven't been paranoid. I've been stressed. There's a difference." Cormac moves closer. "Callum, I swear on Father's grave, I didn't do this. I don't know who did, but it wasn't me."
"Then who? Who else could frame me this perfectly?"
"I don't know. But I'm trying to find out. I've got people investigating. Looking for any evidence of who actually killed that human and planted your scent." Cormac sits beside me. "Please believe me. I would never destroy you. You're my brother. You're the only family I have left."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that my brother isn't the monster who orchestrated my ruin.
But doubt has taken root now. And once you start doubting someone, it's hard to stop.
"The lawyer says I should plead guilty," I say quietly. "Says fighting will just make things worse."
"Thomas Whitmore's an idiot." Cormac's voice is hard now. "Don't listen to him. Fight this. Prove your innocence."
"With what evidence? I have nothing. Just my word against everything they've found."
"Then we'll find evidence. We'll prove you were framed." Cormac grabs my shoulder. "Don't give up. Don't let them convict you for crimes you didn't commit."
The guard signals that visiting time is over. Cormac stands reluctantly.
"I'll be at the trial. I'll testify for you. I'll tell them you're innocent." Cormac's eyes are wet. "Just hold on. We'll get through this."
Cormac leaves. I'm alone again in the cell.
My brother just swore he didn't frame me. Looked me in the eyes and promised he's trying to help.
But my lawyer's telling me to plead guilty. The evidence is overwhelming. Everyone's abandoning me.
And I have two choices. Plead guilty to crimes I didn't commit and maybe get reduced sentencing. Or fight and lose everything.
The lawyer's words echo in my head. "Plead guilty, maybe get reduced sentence. Fight this, you'll get maximum: prison then exile. Permanent packless status."
I have until tomorrow to decide whether to confess to murder or fight a battle I can't win.
Either way, my life as I knew it is over.