Chapter 31 Cormac's Schemes
POV: Cormac Brennan
Location: Various Locations, London
Time: Present Day
I'm reviewing territory expansion proposals when Beta Declan interrupts. "You have a meeting. Beta Killian from the Docklands pack. He's waiting in the receiving room."
Killian. I know that name. His Alpha was rivals with Father for thirty years. Territorial disputes, resource competition, political maneuvering. They hated each other with the careful civility that pack politics requires.
"What does he want?"
"Didn't say. Just requested meeting with you personally." Declan's voice is cautious. "Could be trap. Could be legitimate business. Docklands pack has been expanding too."
"Set up the meeting. Standard security protocols." I close the territory files. "And stay in the room. I want witness to whatever's discussed."
Ten minutes later, I'm facing Beta Killian across my father's desk. My desk now. Killian's maybe fifty, scarred from decades of pack enforcement. He's got the hard look of wolves who've done necessary violence.
"Alpha Cormac. Thank you for meeting with me." Killian's voice is professionally neutral. "I'm here on behalf of Alpha Magnus. He wants to discuss territorial boundaries."
"We have established boundaries. They're not changing."
"Circumstances change. Your father's death created opportunities for renegotiation." Killian pulls out maps. "We're proposing minor adjustments. Give us access to the South Bank territory. You get expanded territory in Richmond."
"South Bank generates significant income. Why would I trade valuable territory for more parkland?"
"Because Richmond is safer. South Bank has exposure risks. Human population is dense there. One supernatural incident and the Veil could fail." Killian taps the map. "Alpha Magnus thinks it's better for you to have secure territory rather than profitable but risky."
It's reasonable on surface. But I know Magnus. Know his reputation for ruthless expansion. This proposal benefits him more than me.
"No. Our territories stay as they are."
Killian doesn't look surprised. "Alpha Magnus expected that response. He wanted me to mention one other thing." Killian's voice shifts. Loses the professional neutrality. "How's your brother? Callum, right? Heard he was convicted of murder."
My hands clench under the desk. "My brother's situation is not your concern."
"Just expressing sympathy. Terrible thing when family gets caught up in criminal charges." Killian's eyes are sharp. "Though I've heard some wolves say he was innocent. That the evidence was too perfect. That maybe someone framed him."
"Are you accusing me of something?"
"Not at all. Just repeating rumors I've heard. Supernatural community gossips about pack politics." Killian leans back. "Your father was respected Alpha. Fair, honest, loved by his pack. You're different. Harsher. Some wolves wonder if the succession was entirely legitimate."
Rage builds in my chest. This Beta is questioning my authority. Implying I framed Callum. Suggesting my position is corrupt.
I force myself to stay calm. To not react. To maintain Alpha composure.
"My brother was convicted by supernatural court. The evidence was overwhelming. His guilt is established fact." I stand. "This meeting is over. Tell Alpha Magnus our territories are not changing. And if he continues spreading rumors about my legitimacy, there will be consequences."
"Understood. Alpha Magnus appreciates your time." Killian stands. "One more thing. He wanted me to mention that he's allied with three other London packs. If territorial disputes escalate, you'd be facing multiple Alphas. Just something to consider."
It's a threat. Thinly veiled but clear. Challenge Magnus and he'll bring allies against me.
"Tell Alpha Magnus that I'm allied with the Crimson Parliament. Lord Mordaunt specifically. If he wants to test whose connections are stronger, I welcome the attempt." I signal Declan. "Show Beta Killian out."
After Killian leaves, I'm alone with my rage. That Beta questioned Callum's conviction. Implied I framed my brother. Suggested my succession is illegitimate.
Word is spreading. Wolves are doubting. My authority is being questioned beyond my own pack.
This is what happens when you show weakness. When you let enemies think they can challenge you.
I need to demonstrate strength. Need to remind London's packs that I'm not to be questioned.
That night, I'm in my study planning responses to Magnus when I remember something. A project I started months ago. Before Callum's trial. An experiment.
I pull out files. Omega Marcus. Ordered to bite specific human. Test whether I can create controlled turned wolves.
The logic was simple. Born wolves have pack loyalty. But turned wolves are desperate and alone. If I could control the turning process, create packless wolves who owe their survival to me, I'd have disposable soldiers. Wolves with no pack bonds to compete with their loyalty to me.
Marcus reported success. The human survived the bite. Survived first transformation. Became packless wolf wandering the Rookeries.
I'd forgotten about it in the chaos of framing Callum. But now I'm remembering. The experiment might have worked.
I call Marcus to my study. The omega appears within twenty minutes. He's terrified as always. Omegas live in constant fear of Alpha displeasure.
"The experiment. The human I ordered you to bite. Did you document results?"
"Yes, Alpha. As instructed." Marcus pulls out notes. "Subject was Isla Reid. Female, twenty-eight, nurse at St. Thomas Hospital. Bitten six weeks before your brother's trial."
Isla Reid. The name registers. Same woman Boris mentioned to Callum. The one running shelters in the Rookeries.
"What happened after she was turned?"
"She survived first transformation. Forty percent mortality rate means that's significant. She lost her job, lost her housing, ended up in the Rookeries." Marcus checks his notes. "Last I heard, she's still alive. Running some kind of shelter operation for newly turned wolves."
"Shelter operation?"
"Helps packless wolves survive their first months. Provides housing, medical care, training. She's apparently very effective. Dozens of wolves under her care."
This is interesting. My experiment didn't just create a turned wolf. It created someone who's organizing packless wolves. Building community. Becoming influential in the Rookeries.
"Is she loyal to anyone?"
"No pack affiliation. No vampire sponsors. She's independent. Self-funded through donations and theft." Marcus hesitates. "Lord Mordaunt's been monitoring her. He considers her a potential threat."
"Why?"
"Organized packless wolves could disrupt vampire control. If she keeps growing her network, she might create an alternative power structure in the Rookeries."
I think about this. Isla Reid was my experiment. My test subject. And she's become something unexpected. Not a disposable soldier. A community organizer.
That's either useful or dangerous. I'm not sure which yet.
"Continue monitoring her. I want monthly reports on her activities. Who she's helping. Who she's allying with. What her network looks like." I look at Marcus. "And Marcus, this experiment stays confidential. Tell no one that I ordered her turning."
"Yes, Alpha."
"If she survives another month, the experiment proves turned wolves can be valuable. We'll proceed with phase two. Creating more."
"How many more?"
"As many as needed. Ten. Twenty. Fifty." I'm thinking out loud now. "Turned wolves loyal only to me. No pack bonds to compete. Desperate enough to do anything. That's a private army."
Marcus looks horrified but says nothing. Omegas don't question Alphas.
"Dismissed. Report back in one month with full documentation on Isla Reid's activities."
Marcus leaves. I'm alone with plans that are evolving beyond what I originally intended.
Expanding pack territory with Parliament's help. Creating private army of turned wolves. Consolidating power through fear and loyalty. Eliminating anyone who questions my authority.
This is what Alpha leadership requires. Ruthless calculation. Strategic cruelty. Whatever it takes to maintain power.
Father would be ashamed. He believed in fairness and community. But Father's dead because he was too soft.
I won't make that mistake. I'll be what the pack needs. Strong. Unquestioned. Feared.
And if that requires creating turned wolves through forced bites, if it requires experimenting on humans like Isla Reid, that's acceptable cost.
Results matter. Methods don't.
I pull out Isla's file. Look at the photograph Marcus took during surveillance. Young woman, brown hair, determined expression. She doesn't know she's my experiment. Doesn't know I'm the reason she's packless and desperate.
She's surviving though. Thriving even. Building something in the Rookeries despite having nothing.
That's impressive. That's useful.
I'll continue monitoring her. See if she keeps growing. See if she becomes valuable asset or necessary elimination.
Either way, she's mine. My creation. My experiment.
Just like everything else in my expanding empire.