Chapter Twenty-Five
Confession, Part II
Caleb POV
I didn't hear the forest anymore.
No wind. No insects. No snapping branches settling from Hazel's last shockwave.
Just him.
Magnus stood where Hazel had been thrown back from moments ago—coat unwrinkled, posture loose, shadows still clinging to him like a second skin. Dark residue from where her blade had cut him earlier had already vanished, absorbed into whatever lived beneath his flesh.
Hazel was on her feet again beside me. Her blade shook in her grip, power bleeding off her in sharp, unstable waves. Helene's presence pressed hard against the bond, lethal and restrained only by Hazel's will.
I couldn't look at her.
If I did, I would lose control.
So I kept my eyes on the man who made me.
"You're lying," I said.
The words came out flat. Weak. Reflexive—muscle memory from years of obedience and denial.
Magnus's attention shifted fully to me then, the way a craftsman looks at a weapon he once forged by hand.
"No," he said calmly. "I'm being precise."
The word scraped something raw inside my chest.
"Your parents" he continued, voice level almost instructional, "were idealists, dangerous ones. Your father believed the packs could coexist without a central authority. Your mother believed bloodlines didn't determine worth."
Hazel made a broken sound beside me.
I couldn't breathe.
"They were wrong," Magnus said. "And worse—they were persuasive."
My hands curled into fists. Old scars burned faintly along my ribs and arms, reacting to a truth my body had always known even when my mind refused it.
"You're saying this like it was a disagreement," I growled. "Not an execution."
"It was both," he replied. "I offered them exile. Silence. Loyalty. They refused."
He paused, then added with clinical detachment, "Your mother struck first."
Something snapped.
I lunged.
Hazel moved too—but grief made me faster this time. Adam surged forward with a snarl that tore out of my chest, claws ripping free as I slammed Magnus back into a tree hard enough to split bark and send splinters flying.
The impact thundered through the clearing.
I grabbed him by the collar, lifting him clear off the ground.
"You killed them," I snarled, breath burning between us. "You killed my parents."
Magnus didn't struggle.
Didn't plead.
He looked… curious.
"Yes," he said. "I did."
That was the sound of something breaking permanently inside me.
Adam roared, power flooding my limbs, demanding violence, demanding blood, demanding an ending—but Magnus raised one hand.
Not defensively.
Casually.
The force that hit me wasn't physical.
It was will.
Pressure slammed into my chest, crushing the air from my lungs, tearing me off him, and hurling me backward like I weighed nothing. I hit the ground hard, skidding through dirt and leaves until Hazel caught my arm, dragging me upright before I could collapse again.
My vision swam.
Magnus straightened his coat.
"You see," he continued, as if nothing had happened, "I don't kill out of malice. I kill out of necessity."
Hazel shook with barely leashed power. "You butchered children."
"Yes," Magnus agreed. "Future threats."
The word echoed—cold. Absolute.
Something dark and hollow opened inside my chest.
"My mother," I said slowly, forcing the words out past the ache in my throat. "She was pregnant."
Magnus's eyes flickered.
Just once.
"I know."
The world tilted.
"You knew," I whispered.
"She refused to terminate," he said. "Another potential problem. I solved it."
Hazel screamed.
Power detonated outward—raw, unfiltered fury ripping through the clearing. Branches snapped. Stones lifted from the ground and shattered. I barely stayed on my feet, Adam bracing hard inside me as Helene surged in Hazel, her presence sharp enough to cut.
Magnus stood unmoved at the center of it all.
Unbowed.
Unrepentant.
I staggered forward again, each step heavy, deliberate. My hands shook—not with fear, but with the effort of not tearing him apart where he stood.
"You raised me," I said hoarsely. "You trained me. You watched me bleed and fight and swear loyalty to you."
"Yes."
"You held me while I mourned them."
"Yes."
"You told me the Thorns murdered them."
"Yes."
Each word cut deeper than the last.
I stopped three steps away from him.
My voice dropped. Went deadly quiet.
"Why," I demanded, "would you kill your own son?"
For the first time since he arrived, Magnus's smile faded.
Not into regret.
Into something flatter. More honest.
"Because," he said, "I loved the idea of you more than the reality."
The sentence lodged between my ribs like a blade.
"You were never meant to be my heir," he continued. "You were meant to be my weapon. Sharpened by loss, loyal through pain, controlled through grief."
Adam went feral.
I will rip his throat out.
I didn't stop him.
I couldn't.
But before I could move—
Magnus's eyes burned red.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Literally.
Helena surfaced.
I felt her then—felt her attention snap into place like a hook sinking into flesh. The air thickened, wrongness flooding the clearing in heavy, suffocating waves. This was the presence Hazel had sensed earlier. The thing riding beneath Magnus's voice.
Hazel gasped.
Helene screamed inside her.
Magnus—no, Helena smiled with his mouth.
"There it is," she purred through him. "Now you understand."
My stomach dropped.
"You used him," Hazel whispered, horror dawning. "You used both of us."
Helena's laughter rippled through Magnus's body, silk wrapped in venom.
"Of course I did," she said. "Truth is far more effective when it's delivered by the hands that broke you."
I stepped in front of Hazel without thinking, Adam bristling, power coiling tight and volatile.
"Get out of him," I growled.
Helena tilted Magnus's head, studying me with ancient amusement. "Or what, Golden Alpha? Will you kill your grandfather twice?"
The forest held its breath.
My scars burned white-hot.
And in that moment—blood on my hands, truth carved into my bones—I understood something with terrifying clarity.
Magnus hadn't come here to confess, He'd come here to finish the damage.
And Helena intended to enjoy every second of it.