Page 60 of Finn
“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through. He’s not a monster damn it.”
Asher’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.
Instead, he took a step back, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if there was any way to change my mind.
“You’re not giving me much of a choice here,” he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because as much as I hated it, I knew he was right. There was no easy way out of this, no clean break.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FINN
The fight erupted without warning.
Asher lunged, quick and unrelenting, his expression carved from stone.
I stepped back just in time to avoid his first strike, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I knew this was inevitable, but part of me couldn’t quite believe it. I was fighting my big brother.
The one who taught me how to throw my first punch, who patched me up after I’d skinned my knee a dozen times growing up.
Now, he was coming at me with the same precision and force he used to train Guild recruits, and there was no holding back.
“Asher, stop!” I shouted, dodging another blow.
His only response was a grim look, his mouth set in a hard line. Asher didn’t speak, didn’t try to reason with me.
He’d decided what needed to be done, and he was carrying it out with a cold, unflinching resolve.
I ducked as he swung again, his movements sharp and calculated.
For a moment, I thought he was intent on killing me, but then I noticed the glint of something in his fist.
Not a blade or a weapon. At least, not in the conventional sense.
A syringe. The realization hit like a punch to the gut.
He wasn’t trying to kill me; he was trying to incapacitate me and drag me back to the Guild.
“Asher, stop. Let’s talk about this!” I pleaded, ducking another swing and twisting out of reach.
“Enough talking, Finn,” he said grimly.
His words only stoked the fire in my chest.
My own brother thought I was too far gone to be trusted with my own choices. That I needed to be saved.
Anger bubbled up, but I forced myself to focus on the fight.
I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me. Not when Asher was fighting like his life depended on it.
He came at me again, faster this time, his movements smooth and relentless.
I barely managed to block his strikes, my arms already aching from the effort.
Asher was better than me; he always had been. Faster, stronger, more disciplined.
