In a dimly lit basement, where the shadows clung to the walls and silence felt heavier than usual —
Eve and Emmett stood side by side, watching as Asher take his punishment.
Every lash cut through the air with a sharp, merciless crack before landing against his back, making it sting the worst.
The sound alone was enough to make one's skin crawl, let alone the pain it carried.
Each single strike must have burned —deep, searing, unforgiving.
Yet Asher's expression revealed nothing.
On his knees, his back straight despite the punishment, he simply endured —just as he had been instructed to.
No cry.
No protest.
Not even a flicker of weakness.
"It's done," the executor finally said, lowering his arm.
But those words brought no relief to Asher.
Instead, his brows furrowed slightly.
"Two more," he said through gritted teeth. His voice was steady —but the tension in his jaw betrayed the strain beneath.
He flexed his back muscles, bracing himself.
Ready.
