Page 84 of Asher
As I crossed the edge of town, the first drops of rain splattered against the cobblestones, quickly giving way to a steady drizzle.
The damp chill seeped through my clothes, clinging to my skin like an unwelcome reminder of the night’s chaos.
My arms felt like lead, my muscles burning with every step.
The sharp throb in my side, where a bullet had grazed me earlier, refused to let me forget how close I’d come to losing more than just blood.
The coppery scent still hung in the air, mixing with the rain-soaked pavement and the faint metallic tang of iron from my clothes.
I needed to get back. Back to the inn. Back to Asher. The thought of him lying there, vulnerable and unaware of the danger still stalking us, gnawed at my insides.
The main streets were too exposed, too open. I turned into a narrow alley, a shortcut I’d used before, eager to shave off a few precious minutes.
The dim light from the streetlamps barely reached the damp brick walls, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and stretch with the rain.
But as I stepped deeper into the alley, unease crawled up my spine.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and every instinct in me screamed to turn around, to be ready for something.
I quickened my face, my boots splashing through shallow puddles as I tried to shake the feeling.
Every shadow seemed to move, every sound felt amplified. The soft patter of rain, the distant creak of a door, the faint scrape of something shifting just out of sight.
I froze mid-step, my senses sharpening as I scanned the dark corridor. That’s when I saw them.
Asher.
And Bram.
My stomach dropped as Bram’s massive form loomed over Asher. He had Asher pinned against the wall, his hand wrapped around Asher’s throat.
Asher struggled, his movements uncoordinated and desperate. He’d only just turned; his strength and reflexes hadn’t fully adjusted yet.
Bram spotted me and sneered. “You’ve made a mess of things, Gael. Turning him? Betraying our nest? You’ve grown soft. Weak,” Beric said.
Before I could move, Bram hurled Asher across the alley. His body slammed into the opposite wall with a sickening thud, and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
“No!” I snarled, surging forward.
Bram turned, his expression cold and amused. “There you are. Just in time to watch me fix your mistake.”
I didn’t waste words. My body moved on instinct, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. I lashed out, grabbing the knife in my coat, aiming for his throat.
He caught my wrist mid-swing, his grip like iron.
“Still so predictable,” he taunted before driving his fist into my ribs.
Pain exploded through my chest, but I didn’t relent. I twisted free and landed a kick to his knee, forcing him back a step.
The alley became a battlefield, the rain-soaked ground slick beneath our feet. Bram’s movements were brutal and efficient, every strike aimed to cripple, to kill.
I ducked under a swing that would have taken my head off. I reached for my knife and countered with a slash that left a gash across his arm.
He barely flinched, his confidence maddeningly intact.
“You’re already spent, Gael,” he said, landing a blow to my shoulder that sent me staggering. “The hunters softened you up, and now you’ve got nothing left.”
I gritted my teeth, pushing past the searing pain. “You talk too much.”
