Brothers in Conversation
2004 Words
POV: Callum Brennan
Location: Brennan Townhouse, Kensington
Time: Week Two After Death
I find Cormac in Father's study going through funeral arrangements. Papers everywhere, phone on speaker with the funeral director discussing casket options. Cormac looks exhausted. Two weeks as Alpha and he's aged years.
"Can we talk?" I ask from the doorway.
Cormac glances up. "I'm busy."
"It's about the funeral. I have some ideas."
Cormac sighs, tells the funeral director he'll call back, and hangs up. "What ideas?"
I step into the study. Father's chair, Father's desk, but Cormac sitting there like he's trying on someone else's clothes. It doesn't fit yet.
"I was thinking about the memorial service," I say. "Who we're honoring beyond Father."
"Beyond Father? It's his funeral."
"I know. But Father helped a lot of wolves over the years. Turned wolves he took in, omegas he rescued, pack members he protected. I thought we could acknowledge them. Maybe invite them to share memories."
Cormac's expression goes flat. "No."
"Why not? It would show Father's legacy. All the lives he touched."
"Father was Alpha, not a charity worker. His legacy is the pack's strength and territory. Not every stray he felt sorry for." Cormac shuffles papers. "We're keeping the funeral traditional. Alpha funeral for an Alpha. Not a community gathering for whoever Father happened to help."
"Those wolves are part of our community."
"Those wolves are turned, omega, or marginal pack members. They're not representative of Father's actual legacy."
I stare at my brother. "Since when do you talk like that? Turned wolves aren't real pack?"
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant. Father helped people because it was right. Because pack means something beyond hierarchy."
"Pack means exactly hierarchy. That's the foundation. Alpha, Beta, Enforcer, pack members, omegas. Everyone in their place. Father understood that."
"Father understood that hierarchy serves the pack, not the other way around." I move closer. "He took in turned wolves because they deserved a chance. He rescued omegas because no one should be treated as disposable. That's what made him a good Alpha. Caring about all pack members, not just the born wolves at the top."
Cormac stands. "You want to turn Father's funeral into a political statement about pack equality. That's what this is really about."
"What? No. I want to honor who Father actually was."
"Father was a leader who maintained order through strength and tradition. Not some progressive reformer." Cormac's voice is rising. "You're trying to rewrite his legacy to match your philosophy. Make him sound like he agreed with your ideas about flattening hierarchy."
"I'm not rewriting anything. I'm remembering the man who told me pack bonds matter more than rank. Who said taking care of vulnerable members makes us stronger, not weaker."
"He also told me that Alpha authority is absolute. That challenges to hierarchy destroy packs. That maintaining order requires firmness." Cormac crosses his arms. "Seems like Father told us both what we wanted to hear."
The accusation stings because it might be true. Maybe Father did tailor his messages. Told Cormac about strength and told me about compassion. Gave each of us the piece we needed without showing us the whole picture.
"So we disagree about what Father believed," I say. "Fine. Can we at least agree on a memorial that includes more than just pack elite?"
"No. Because this isn't about Father. This is about you positioning yourself as the compassionate alternative to my firm leadership." Cormac's eyes are cold. "You want to parade turned wolves and omegas at the funeral so everyone sees how caring you are. How different from your harsh brother."
"That's not what this is."
"Isn't it? You've been doing this since Father died. Being publicly kind, helping everyone, making sure wolves see you as sympathetic. Now you want to use Father's funeral to reinforce that image."
"I'm trying to honor Father's actual values!"
"You're trying to undermine me!" Cormac slams his hand on the desk. Papers scatter. "Everything you do, every kind gesture, every public act of compassion makes me look like the cold authoritarian by comparison. You're campaigning without campaigning. Building support while claiming you don't want leadership."
I step back. "Is that really what you think?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." Cormac's voice drops. Dangerous quiet. "I just know that every time I make a hard decision, you're there being understanding. Every time I enforce hierarchy, you're there being gentle. Every time I'm Alpha, you're there being everyone's friend. And the pack notices. They compare us. They wonder why the harsh brother got the position when the kind one would've been nicer."
"Cormac, that's not..."
"Get out." Cormac's looking at the papers now, not me. "We're doing a traditional Alpha funeral. No community memorial, no omega speeches, no political statements about equality. Father was Alpha. We're honoring that. Nothing else."
"Brother, please. Can we just talk about this?"
"We are talking. I said no. That's the decision. You want to argue more, challenge me formally. Otherwise, respect my authority and leave."
The words hit like a slap. Challenge me formally. Combat challenge. Brother versus brother for pack leadership.
Cormac's threatening me.
"I'm not challenging you," I say quietly. "I never would. I just wanted to include more pack members in the memorial."
"And I said no. Alpha's decision. Final." Cormac still won't look at me. "Close the door on your way out."
I leave. Close the door. Stand in the hallway trying to process what just happened.
My brother thinks I'm scheming against him. Thinks my kindness is strategy. Thinks helping pack members is campaigning for their support.
He's not seeing reality anymore. He's seeing conspiracy. And nothing I say will convince him otherwise because even my denial sounds like manipulation to paranoid ears.
Sarah finds me in the library twenty minutes later. I'm staring at Father's bookshelves, not really seeing them.
"You okay?" Sarah asks.
"Cormac and I just fought. About the funeral."
"About what specifically?"
"I wanted to include turned wolves and omegas in the memorial. Acknowledge everyone Father helped. Cormac said no. Called it political statement, accused me of trying to undermine him."
Sarah sits beside me. "Did he actually use the word undermine?"
"Yes. He thinks I'm positioning myself as the compassionate alternative to his firm leadership. Thinks every kind thing I do is campaign strategy."
"That's paranoid."
"I know. But he believes it." I look at Sarah. "He threatened me. Said if I want to argue more, I should challenge him formally. Combat challenge. He's threatening his own brother with Alpha combat."
Sarah's quiet for a moment. "He's scared."
"Of what? I've told him a hundred times I don't want to be Alpha."
"He's scared because people like you more. Not as Alpha. As person. You're easier to talk to, more approachable, more naturally kind. That threatens him because his authority is based on being firstborn, not being beloved. If the pack had a choice, they might choose differently."
"But they don't have a choice. That's not how it works."
"He doesn't trust that. He thinks if you're popular enough, the pack will find a way to make you Alpha regardless of birth order." Sarah touches my arm. "You're not doing anything wrong. But from his perspective, your very existence is threat."
"So what do I do? Stop being kind? Stop helping people?"
"No. But maybe be more careful about appearances. Don't be seen undermining his decisions, even accidentally. Support him publicly. Even when you disagree privately."
"I already do that."
"Then do it more obviously. Make sure everyone knows you're backing him." Sarah hesitates. "I'm worried about you, Callum. Cormac's changing. Getting harder. More suspicious. You need to protect yourself."
"From my own brother?"
"From whatever he's becoming."
I want to argue. Want to say Cormac's just stressed, grieving, adjusting to leadership. Want to believe this is temporary.
But I remember his eyes during our fight. Cold. Calculating. Looking at me like I'm an enemy, not family.
Sarah might be right.
I try to talk to Cormac again that evening. Find him in Father's study, on the phone. He sees me, holds up one finger. Wait.
I wait. Listen to half a conversation I don't understand.
"Yes, I understand the risks," Cormac's saying. "But it's necessary... No, I'll take full responsibility... Just make sure it's documented properly... Good. Thank you."
Cormac hangs up. Looks at me. "What?"
"Who was that?"
"Pack business."
"What kind of pack business?"
"The kind I handle as Alpha." Cormac's voice is clipped. "Was there something specific you needed?"
"I wanted to apologize. About earlier. I wasn't trying to undermine you with the funeral suggestion. I genuinely just wanted to honor Father's compassion."
Cormac studies me. Long enough that it gets uncomfortable. His expression's unreadable.
"Okay," Cormac says finally. "Apology accepted."
"And maybe we could compromise? Keep the funeral traditional but add a small community gathering afterward? Informal, not part of the ceremony. Let people share memories if they want."
"Fine. Arrange it yourself. Just keep it separate from the actual funeral."
"Thank you." I move toward the door, then pause. "Cormac, are you okay? You seem different lately. Distant."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're stressed and exhausted and carrying too much. Let me help. That's why there's a Beta. You don't have to do everything alone."
Something flickers across Cormac's face. For a second, I see my brother. The twin I grew up with. Vulnerable, tired, maybe even grateful.
Then it's gone. The mask returns. Cold, controlled Alpha.
"I appreciate the offer," Cormac says. Voice warm now. Almost too warm. "You're right. I have been stressed. Trying to do too much without delegating. I should let you help more."
"Really?"
"Really. You're my brother and my Beta. I should trust you more." Cormac smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "We'll talk tomorrow about how to divide responsibilities. Get me less overwhelmed and you more involved."
"That sounds great."
"Good. Now I need to finish some paperwork. We'll talk tomorrow."
I leave feeling relieved. Maybe the fight was just stress. Maybe Cormac's starting to trust me again. Maybe things will get better.
I want to believe that.
Cormac's POV
I wait until Callum's footsteps fade down the hall. Then I pick up my phone and call Marcus. Not pack elder Marcus. Omega Marcus, the wolf who bit Isla on my father's orders. The one who owes me everything because I didn't execute him for unauthorized turning.
Marcus answers on the second ring. "Alpha."
"I need you to do something," I say quietly. "It will be unpleasant. But necessary."
"What do you need?"
"I need information. On Callum. Who he's talking to privately, what he's saying when I'm not around, if he's building alliances I should know about."
Silence. Then: "You want me to spy on your brother?"
"I want you to help me protect the pack from internal threats. Callum doesn't mean to be a threat, but his presence creates instability. I need to know if that instability is becoming active conspiracy."
"And if it is?"
"Then I'll handle it. But I need proof first. Evidence that he's actually scheming and not just naive." I pause. "Can you do this?"
More silence. I can hear Marcus breathing, considering. He's Omega. He has no choice. But I'm giving him the illusion of choice because that's how you manage people. Make them think they're deciding when really they're obeying.
"I'll do it," Marcus says finally. "But Alpha, if I'm wrong, if your brother's genuinely loyal, this is going to destroy your relationship when he finds out."
"He won't find out. And even if he is loyal, I need to verify that. Too much at stake to trust blindly." I end the call.
I sit in Father's chair, in Father's study, planning to spy on my own brother.
This is what Alpha means. Hard choices. Uncomfortable choices. Choices that protect the pack even when they hurt personally.
Father would understand.
At least, I hope he would.
- Writer
