Chapter 48 Brother vs. Brother
POV: Alternating - Callum Brennan, then Cormac Brennan
Location: Rookeries Battlefield
Time: During Battle
CALLUM
Cormac attacks first. He's faster than I expected. Stronger. Alpha power flowing through him. Well-fed. Well-trained. Everything I'm not.
His claws rake across my chest. Open deep wounds. I stumble back.
"You were always weaker," Cormac says. "Second-born. Seven minutes behind. Never quite enough."
I don't respond. Prison taught me not to waste breath on words during combat.
I counter-attack. Go low. Target his legs. He blocks but I'm faster than he expects. Eighteen months of fighting pits taught me speed over power.
My claws catch his thigh. Tear muscle. He grunts but doesn't slow.
We're circling each other. The battle rages around us but we're in our own world. Two brothers. One fight. Everything we've been building toward since Father died.
"You could have supported me," Cormac says. "Could have been loyal. Instead, you were threat. I had to remove you."
"You framed me for murder. Sent me to hell. Destroyed my life." I dodge his next attack. "That's not removal. That's betrayal."
"That's survival. You were seven minutes away from being Alpha. You would have challenged me eventually. I just acted first."
"I never wanted to challenge you. I wanted to support you. To lead together like Father planned."
"Father was fool. Shared power never works. There's only one Alpha." Cormac lunges. Fast. Brutal.
I barely block. His strength is overwhelming. He pins me against a wall. Claws at my throat.
"You lost the moment you refused to submit. You always lose, Callum. Because you're weak."
I'm losing. He's too strong. Too well-fed. Alpha power is real advantage.
But I've got something he doesn't. Desperation. Prison survival instinct. Willingness to fight dirty.
I see the silver chain on the ground. Dropped by a dead wolf. Three feet away.
I reach for it while Cormac's focused on my throat. Fingers close around silver. It burns immediately. Sears my palm.
I don't care. I stab upward with the chain. Drive it into Cormac's side. Silver piercing flesh.
CORMAC
Pain explodes in my side. Silver. Callum's got silver weapon. He's stabbing me with it.
I scream and release him. Stumble back. The silver's burning. Poisoning my system.
Callum's standing. Blood covering him. But he's holding the silver chain. His hand is smoking where it touches the metal. He doesn't let go.
"That's how you survive prison," Callum says. His voice is cold. Dead. "You learn to hurt yourself to hurt your enemy more."
I look at the wound in my side. It's deep. Silver-contaminated. Already feels infected.
Around us, the battle's turning. My pack is losing. Callum's crew plus the reinforcements are too many. We're outnumbered.
I need to retreat. Need medical attention. Need to regroup.
But retreating means admitting defeat. Means showing weakness to my pack.
I look at Callum. At my brother who I destroyed. Who survived everything I threw at him. Who's standing in front of me scarred and broken but still fighting.
For a moment, I see him as he was. Seven years old. Running beside me through Richmond Park. Father teaching us to hunt together. Brothers who loved each other.
That moment of hesitation costs me.
Callum attacks while I'm distracted. Drives the silver chain toward my throat. I dodge but barely. The chain catches my shoulder. More silver contamination.
I'm wounded. Poisoned. Losing.
"Retreat," I shout to my pack. "Fall back."
My Beta, Declan, signals the withdrawal. Pack wolves disengage. Start retreating.
Some of them are looking at me differently. Questioning. An Alpha who retreats from an Omega. An Alpha who loses to his exiled brother.
My authority is damaged. Possibly permanently.
I retreat with my pack. Leaving the battlefield. Leaving victory to Callum.
First time in my life I've lost to my brother.
It won't be the last.
CALLUM
Cormac retreats. His pack follows. They're wounded, demoralized, confused.
They saw their Alpha run from a packless Omega. They saw him lose.
I'm standing in the center of the battlefield. Holding the bloody silver chain. My hand is destroyed where I gripped it. Third-degree burns. Permanent damage.
The scar will never fully heal. I'll carry this mark for life.
Around me, the battle ends. Callum's crew is standing. Wounded but alive. The reinforcements are checking casualties.
We won. Somehow. Against impossible odds. We won.
But it doesn't feel like victory. It feels like survival. Desperate, bloody survival.
I drop the silver chain. My hand is smoking. The flesh is ruined. I can see bone through the burns.
Isla runs to me. "You're hurt. Let me see."
"It's bad. But I'll heal. Mostly."
"That's a permanent scar. Silver burns that deep don't fully heal." Isla starts treating the wound. "You'll have this mark forever."
"Good. I want to remember. Want to remember what it cost to stand up to him."
The crew gathers. We're all wounded. Three are dead. Kieran and two others. Their bodies are on the ground covered in blood.
But we're alive. We defended the shelter. We beat Cormac's pack.
"What happens now?" Marcus asks. He's wounded badly. Barely standing.
"Now we bury our dead. Tend our wounded. Rebuild." I look at the crew. "And we prepare. Because Cormac will come back. This isn't over."
"Can we win next time?" someone asks.
"I don't know. But we'll try. Because that's all we can do."
Beta Declan stayed behind. He's standing at the edge of the battlefield. Alone.
I approach him. "Your Alpha retreated."
"He's wounded. Silver-poisoned. He needed medical attention." Declan's voice is defensive but uncertain.
"He ran. His pack saw it. That damages him."
"I know." Declan looks at me seriously. "You beat him, Callum. Fair fight. He lost. That changes things."
"What things?"
"Pack dynamics. Authority. Loyalty. Some wolves are questioning him now. Wondering if the trial was legitimate. Wondering if you were really guilty." Declan pauses. "This isn't over. He'll come for you again. But next time it won't be honor combat. Next time it'll be assassination."
"Then I'll be ready."
Declan leaves. I'm standing on the battlefield with my crew. My hand is destroyed. My body is broken. But we're alive.
We defended what we built. We stood up to pack authority. We won.
The scar on my hand throbs. Permanent mark. Permanent reminder.
I'm not the Beta I was. I'm something else now. Something forged in prison and battle.
Something dangerous.