Alpha Ashmere Park:
The doors to her father's study were already open. He sensed her presence from doors away, and asked the guards to leave the door open.
Violet did not knock.
She never did.
The guards stationed outside stepped aside the moment they saw her approaching, their heads bowing slightly—not just out of respect for her title, but for her.
She walked past them without sparing them a glance. The soft click of her heels against the polished floor echoed faintly as she stepped inside.
The study smelled like old wood, ink, and power.
It was a room built for decisions that shaped lives far beyond its walls. Dark shelves lined with ancient texts. Maps spread across a large oak table at the center. Letters—sealed, broken, and resealed—scattered like pieces of quiet wars already fought.
Alpha Ashmere stood behind it all. He didn't look up immediately. He never rushed for anyone, not even his daughter.
