Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

Chapter 240

Chapter 240

“My Queen.”

Tristan, my first in command. The man I considered both a friend and a worthy enemy. A Vampire I had once hated with every fiber of my being, only to now trust him with every beat of my heart.

He was dead.

Cold. Unmoving. Not a spark of light in his eyes.

He pushed me out of the way. He took the blow that was meant for me. He gave his life for me and its broke Freya’s spell.

Tristan loved me.

Holly’s head was bowed, her hair a dark veil that covered her face as she wept. Her hands were stained red with Tristan’s blood, but she didn’t seem to notice. She continued clutching at his shirt, whimpering, and whispering under her breath.

Without warning the blood ruby unleashed a blast of light that left me seeing spots. Holly ripped the blade from Tristan’s unmoving chest, dropping it as though it were poisonous.

Freya’s face had lost its triumphant luster, taking on a more sinister expression. It looked like her skin had been pulled too tightly

over her bones, stretching across her face in a way that emphasized every dip and curve. Her cheeks were just a touch too hollow, her eyes bulged from their sockets ever so slightly. Her teeth pressed at her lips, pushing them outward.

Her eyes flickered from the dagger to where I sat in the grass, the start of some sickening plan or idea taking form in her head.

Before she could react-before any of us could react, Holly stumbled to her feet.

I should’ve noticed something off when she went silent, no longer crying or whispering under her breath.

Long strands of inky hair hung over her face, partially shielding it from view. From where I sat, I managed to catch a single glimpse of her eyes. My stomach plummeted as I took in the haunted light that filled her entire being.

Holly, the sister that betrayed me, the one I craved since I was a little girl, unleashed a wail that made my hair stand on end.

For a split second, I thought she was going to attack me. After all, it was my life Tristan died for. Never could I have anticipated

Holly charging at her own mother, grabbing onto her dress with blood-stained hands as she screamed and snarled like a wild animal.

“You killed him, you killed him, you killed him! Holly wailed, her voice cracking several times over.

Freya’s lips pulled back from her face in a distasteful sneer. “Get off of me, girl. Have some class. We do not cry over men.”

She shoved Holly away, who stumbled backwards but didn’t fall. Her shoulders were hunched as she took in breath after breath.

Bloody handprints littered Freya’s skin from where Holly had made a grab for her.

Digging my fingers into the dirt, I pushed myself off the ground and onto my feet. I inched closer to Breyona, hesitating when I caught the unearthly glow of magic in Holly’s eyes.

Suddenly, the bloody handprints on Freya’s body began to smoke.

Freya noticed the same time as I did. Her bulging eyes went wide, so wide that I could see the network of veins running across them like spider webs. Unlike normal veins, these ones were black-tainted with darkness.

“You... You dare use blood magic on me?”

She scoffed at Holly. “l am your mother.”

Holly didn’t so much as blink at her mother.

Her lips barely moved, forming words that came out as a cold whisper.

“You're nothing but an empty vessel.”

crash of a vase against a hard floor. The crack of

vase or a bone that created that

It was Freya.

as a hairline crack running down her arm, splitting her pale skin in two, began to widen. Like the brittle edges of a chasm, her flesh began to crumble. More and more cracks

Freya's neck, another across her chest and cleavage. A third inched up her neck,

flooding her body, a look of bewilderment on her

magic!? No! No, it’s not possible. You're nothing! You're not powerful enough to kill me!” She half- shouted at Holly, who stood there impassively, a look of detachment marring

you, mother. You killed

words rang in my ears. As I stared down at Tristan’s body, noting how even in death his eyes were trained on my younger sister, I realized she was right. As disturbing as it

with us, dealing one final

jaw opened wider than it should have, more cracks crawling up her face from how taut her skin was

my hands over my ears. Breyona's wolf was several feet away, writhing in pain as

go at Holly with her arms raised and hands

a second time, but this sound

brittle as the rest of her. Her eyes sunk

seconds, there

Witch was

Holly had killed her.

notice, turning so quickly her hair was ripped from her

was empty. His blood staining the grass

only thing that passed between us was panic. That panic

face the source

Tristan, blonde hair blowing

on two feet as he scanned his surroundings, but it wasn't him. The way he moved was off. Many

air that fractured into a sob, one that caught the attention of Tristan and had him turning in our Direction.

They were my father’s.

than Tristan’s stared out at us. With the slickness of oil, they slid to Holly's face, registering the grief that

emerged didn't belong to either Tristan or our father. It was an

as her body

she mouthed the words, but it wasn't until the

thing.” She

let out

tree’s, melting into the night to escape the fury

in his eyes flickered, deep blue fading in and out like an old radio that couldn’t quite settle on one station. The answer drifted through my head,

bound their life forces

I warned her, a hand raised in her

would do no good, not when

head in my direction. A rueful smile crossed

I couldn’t help but marvel

All of the power in the world, and you’re too much of

as he did so. The light in his eyes flickered once again, his voice growing weaker with every breath that rattled

fell to his knees in the

“Such a disappointment.”

then twice, before sputtering out completely. Tristan, his body once more an empty vessel, fell to

his side. Still pale faced and trembling, a broken sob tore itself from her chest as

Goddess...” Breyona whispered

as I spun around, only to find myself steadied by a familiar face. Asher.My mind was so jumbled, my nerves so raw, that I

most of it had dried. It ran down his sculpted cheek, past his rigid jawline and down his neck. A wound like that would’ve killed

him

was, until a certain blonde came

struggling to

months. He held my face in his hands, running his thumbs over my cheeks. in slow circles, a glimmer

dead.” He replied, not an ounce of emotion

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