Chapter 100 RECKONING
Raphael’s Pov
"The truth. That you were deceived along with everyone else. That you made a mistake but you are going to do everything you can to make it right. And that you accept the tribunal's ruling," Marcus said.
"And what about Asher? Am I just supposed to hand him over to Celestia?" I asked.
"Alpha he is her son. The DNA proves it. You do not have a choice," Marcus said.
"I have raised him for five years. I am the only father he has ever known. Does that not count for anything?" I asked.
"It counts for something but it does not change the fact that he was taken from his biological mother illegally. The tribunal has already ruled that Celestia should have custody. Fighting it will only make things worse," Marcus said.
I turned away from the window and looked at Marcus. He was right. I knew he was right. But the thought of losing Asher was unbearable.
My chest tightened like a vice, pain blooming sharp and relentless. Every memory of Asher—his laugh, the way he reached for me, the way he called me Father—hit all at once, merciless and overwhelming. Letting him go felt like tearing out a living piece of my soul. Reason told me this was inevitable, the price of truth, but emotion was louder, screaming through the guilt and fear, clawing for one last moment to hold on.
I had built my world around that child, shaped my days around his needs, his smiles, his fragile health. Losing him meant facing the wreckage of my choices alone, without the comfort of believing I was doing the right thing.
"He is sick Marcus. He needs constant medical care. What if Celestia cannot provide that for him?" I asked.
"She is mated to the Lycan King. She will have access to the best doctors and medical facilities in the kingdom. He will probably get better care with her than he gets here," Marcus said.
That stung because it was probably true. Our pack was running out of money and we could barely afford Asher’s current level of care. If his condition got worse, we might not be able to treat him at all.
The numbers haunted me at night, creeping into every decision I made as Alpha. Every healer, every potion, every specialized piece of equipment drained resources we no longer had. I had pushed the problem aside for too long, hoping for a miracle. Now reality was closing in, ruthless and unforgiving, and Asher’s fragile life was balanced on an edge I could no longer control.
"I need to see him. I need to talk to Asher before I address the pack," I said.
"I do not think that is a good idea right now. He has been extremely upset since the ceremony. The nurses report that he keeps asking for someone he calls the ‘blanket lady.’ From what I understand, he is looking for Celestia. He talks about her constantly, asks if she will come, and seems to calm down only when reminded that she is safe. Right now, seeing anyone else could make him more anxious," Marcus said.
"He met her. At the ceremony. She must have found him somehow," I said.
"That would explain why he has been so distraught. He met his real mother and then she left and now he is confused and scared," Marcus said.
I felt anger rising in my chest. Celestia had no right to see Asher without my permission. She had snuck around behind my back and confused my son.
But then I remembered that Asher was not my son. He was her son. And she had every right to see him.
"I still need to talk to him. He deserves to hear this from me before he hears it from someone else," I said.
"Fine. But make it quick. The pack is getting more agitated by the minute," Marcus said.
I left my office and walked toward the medical wing. Pack members I passed in the hallways stared at me with expressions ranging from anger to disappointment to pity. Nobody spoke to me, but I could feel their judgment clinging to my skin like a weight I could not shake.
I reached Asher’s room and opened the door. He was lying in bed, looking small and pale. When he saw me, he turned his face away. That simple movement hurt more than any accusation. My steps slowed, heart cracking as I realized he already felt the distance growing between us, a distance I had created with my own choices.
"Asher I need to talk to you about something important," I said.
"I do not want to talk to you," Asher said quietly.
"I know you are upset but this cannot wait. There is something you need to know," I said.
"I already know. The nurses told me. They said the blanket lady is my real mother and you lied to me about everything," Asher said.
So he already knew. The nurses had told him before I got a chance to.
“It is more complicated than that. I did not know I was lying to you. I thought Medea was your mother. I was lied to as well,” I said.
The words sounded weak even to my own ears. Excuses dressed up as explanations. I watched his face carefully, searching for any sign that he believed me, that he might understand. My chest ached with the need to be forgiven, but fear coiled tight inside me. Children might be small, but they could sense truth, and I wasn’t sure mine was enough to heal the damage already done.
Guilt pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I realized then that no carefully chosen words could undo years of silence and lies. Trust, once broken, did not return easily—especially from a child who had already learned loss far too young.
"But you were mean to my real mother. You sent her away. The nurses said you exiled her and that is why she could not be with me," Asher said.
"I thought she did something bad. I thought she tried to hurt you. But I was wrong. She never did anything bad. She was innocent," I said.
Asher finally turned to look at me and his eyes were filled with tears.
"Is she coming back for me?" Asher asked.
"Yes. She is fighting to get custody of you. There will be a hearing in two weeks and then you will probably go live with her," I said.
"Good. I want to be with her. She is my real mother," Asher said.
His words hurt more than I expected. After five years of caring for him and loving him, he was ready to leave me without a second thought.
Every memory, every laugh, every bedtime story we had shared pressed down on me like a weight I could not lift. The bond I thought unbreakable felt fragile, slipping through my fingers despite all I had done to protect him. My chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through me, because love alone wasn’t enough to keep him, and the thought of losing him—truly losing him—was more terrifying than any threat I had ever faced.
"I love you, Asher. I know I am not your biological father but I have tried to be a good father to you," I said.
"You kept me away from my real mother. That is not being a good father," Asher said.
"I did not know. If I had known the truth I never would have kept you from her," I said.
"But you did not even look for the truth. You just believed the lies because it was easier," Asher said.
I stared at him, shocked. How did a five-year-old understand all of this so clearly? How did he know exactly what I had done wrong?
His small face held an expression far older than his years, eyes sharp and assessing, almost accusing. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting every failure, every mistake I had made as a parent. My throat tightened, words failing me, because here was a child who had learned betrayal and disappointment too early. Somehow, in his innocence, he saw the truth of my actions better than I could admit to myself, and it left me trembling with guilt.
"You are right. I should have looked harder for the truth. I made a mistake and I am sorry," I said.
"Sorry does not fix anything," Asher said and he turned his face away from me again.
I stood there for a moment longer but there was nothing else to say. Asher did not want to hear my apologies or explanations. He just wanted his real mother.
I left the medical wing and went to address the pack. They were waiting in the central square and when I appeared the shouting got louder. I raised my hand for silence and eventually they quieted down enough for me to speak.
“I know you have all heard about the tribunal ruling. I know you have questions about what happened five years ago. I am here to tell you the truth. I was deceived. We were all deceived. Eclipse and Medea and Dr Lake conspired to frame Celestia and steal her child. I believed their lies and I made a terrible mistake by exiling an innocent woman. For that I am sorry,” I said.
My voice carried across the hall, heavy with shame. Faces stared back at me, some angry, some stunned, some quietly vindicated. I did not look away. I forced myself to stand there and accept their judgment, because this was not just about my guilt. It was about accountability, about repairing what could still be repaired, and about finally choosing truth over pride.
Every heartbeat felt like a drum of exposure, each one reminding me of years wasted in denial. The weight of every lie, every quiet betrayal, pressed down, and I realized that moving forward meant embracing discomfort, letting the pack see my remorse, and allowing them to decide if forgiveness was possible. There would be no shortcuts, no hiding, only the slow, painful path toward redemption.
"Sorry is not good enough!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"You are right. Sorry is not good enough. But it is all I can offer right now. I am accepting the tribunal's ruling. Celestia's exile is overturned and she will be granted custody of her son. I will not fight this decision," I said.
"You should step down as Alpha! You have failed us!" another voice shouted.
More people joined in calling for me to step down. The crowd was turning into a mob and I could feel my authority crumbling. Five years of leadership undone in a single day because of lies and deception.
I looked out at the faces of my pack members and realized Marcus was right. This was a reckoning. And I might not survive it.