Cassie's POV
I barely had time to catch my breath before the door flew open with a sharp, furious shove.
Mila stormed into the room like a vengeful storm cloud, her perfectly styled hair disheveled and her usually pristine face twisted with rage.
Her eyes locked onto me, seething, while her voice rose sharp and shrill enough to make my ears ring.
"There you are, you little witch!" she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at me as though she'd caught me with my hands dipped in blood.
I straightened, my stomach tightening, but refused to flinch. "Mila, what the hell are you—"
"You know exactly what this is about!" she spat, advancing a step closer.
"You've always hated my son. From the moment I married your father, you made it your mission to turn this house against us!"
I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off with a dramatic, strangled sob, whirling toward the hallway.
"Everyone, come here! Come and see what she's done now!"
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, a few drowsy guards and startled house staff appearing at the threshold, exchanging confused glances.
"Mila," I hissed, my voice low with warning. "Stop it."
"Oh, I won't stop," she snapped, crocodile tears threatening to spill down her heavily painted cheeks.
"My poor boy — my Kevin— was beaten like a common rogue by this girl's filthy lover!" She flung an accusatory hand toward Asher.
"And all because she's always despised us! She wants to finish what she started!"
I saw a flicker of hesitation in the guards' eyes. The maids exchanged uncertain glances.
The shame of it burned under my skin, not because of her lies, I was used to those, but because of how easily she could still turn a crowd with her theatrics.
How she twisted truths and half-lies until no one knew where reality ended.
I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, but Asher beat me to it.
He stepped forward with a slow, deliberate swagger, one brow raised, the corner of his mouth tilting in a mocking smirk. His silver eyes gleamed with something dark and cold.
"Mila," he drawled, his voice low and edged with steel, "you really should be careful about the stories you tell. If you don't want the entire pack to hear exactly why your precious boy got his face rearranged, you'd best turn your fake tears around and leave. Now."
The room fell into a tense, charged silence.
Mila's face paled, her mouth opening and closing like a fish yanked from water. Her gaze darted toward the onlookers, a flicker of unease tightening her features.
"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, but her voice wavered.
Asher chuckled darkly, folding his arms. "Oh, Mila!" he said, leaning in just a little, his voice like velvet and venom.
"Try me!."
I bit back a smirk, watching Mila's carefully built mask begin to crack.
Her lips curled into a sneer as she spun toward the gathered maids and guards. "Don't just stand there like fools!" she barked.
"You all saw what kind of people they are! This pack's falling to ruin because of them!"
No one moved.
Not a single guard or maid stepped forward.
It was subtle, but the tide was turning and she felt it.
Mila let out a wordless sound of frustration, her face mottling with rage. With a final glare at me, she lifted her chin, gathering the tattered remnants of her dignity.
"This isn't over!" she spat before storming out of the room, her footsteps retreating down the hall.
The moment she was gone, the tension in the room seemed to deflate. The gathered staff exchanged glances before silently dispersing, not wanting to get caught in whatever storm Mila was about to brew next.
I let out a long, shaky breath, sagging against the wall.
"Well," I muttered, "That was exhausting."
Asher smirked, moving to lock the door behind the last lingering maid.
"You should've let me toss her out the window."
I laughed, a soft, unexpected sound and for the first time in what felt like forever, some of the weight on my chest lifted.
He turned back to me, his smirk fading into something gentler, the hardness in his eyes softening.
"You alright?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks… for that."
"Anytime princess," he murmured.
*
*
*
Later That Night..
We should have slept.
The house had gone still again, but neither of us could settle.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself to close my eyes.
The dull ache in my ankle had faded, replaced by a far more distracting kind of ache, the kind that came from being inches away from someone you couldn't seem to stop wanting, no matter how hard you tried.
And then there was Asher's scent.
Earthy. Clean. Wild pine and something darker, something that clung to my senses and refused to let go. It filled my room, wrapped around me like a physical thing, making my heart race even though he hadn't said a word since we turned off the lights.
I turned my head to find him sitting in the chair by the window, moonlight catching the sharp cut of his jaw, the flicker of heat in his silver eyes as he stared at me through the shadows.
Neither of us spoke.
But something shifted in the air.
Slowly, he stood, his movements fluid, predatory, like a wolf closing in on something it couldn't quite resist.
My pulse leapt.
He stopped beside the bed, his gaze locking with mine. "I can't sleep," he said, voice low and rough.
"Me neither," I whispered.
And then he was on me.
His mouth claimed mine in a searing, breathless kiss, stealing the air from my lungs. His hands slid into my hair, his body pressing me down against the mattress, all lean strength and smoldering heat.
I gasped when his tongue brushed against mine, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Every kiss was a demand, every touch a silent battle between restraint and desire.
"Asher…" I moaned against his lips, arching into him as his hand trailed down my side.
He groaned, deep and ragged, his lips tracing a hot path down my neck.
The room spun around me, filled with nothing but the sound of our uneven breaths and the pounding of my heart. His weight above me, the press of his body, his scent — it was too much and not enough all at once.
His hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt, his fingers splaying against my skin.
I wanted him. Gods, I wanted him so badly it hurt.
But just when I thought I'd finally break, he stilled.
I felt his muscles tense.
"Asher?" I whispered, breathless, confused.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged. "If I don't stop now, Cass… I won't be able to."
"Then don't," I murmured, leaning up to kiss him again.
But he groaned and forced himself away, sitting up and dragging a hand down his face. "Go to sleep, princess."
He didn't wait for my reply.
Asher stood, grabbed a towel, and headed straight for the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.
The sound of the shower starting made my chest ache.
I stared at the ceiling, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
God, what the hell was wrong with me?