Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

Chapter 217

Chapter 217

It was all a blur up until the moment my feet. hit the polished tile floors of the towns Hospital.

Breyona steadying me as I screamed, the air melting from between my fingers, replaced with shadow and night, was vacant from my memory.

“Room 232…” A faceless woman in cheery, rainbow scrubs said to Breyona.

I blinked and we were down the hall. The second time and a set of elevator doors were closing, a third and we were in another hall, approaching an open doorway where the scents of my friends and family poured from within.

Every step we took was another chance to get ahold of myself, to control the ragged breaths that slid past my lips.

It wouldn’t have mattered. I wasn’t sure even Asher himself could put together the broken shards of my heart, not when I stepped into the room and saw her.

The woman on the hospital bed, frail and much too thin, couldn’t have been my grandma.

This couldn’t be the same woman that put her entire heart and soul into every pastry she baked to the point where she had the entire town hooked on her desserts. 1

Grandma’s face wasn’t this lumpy, this misshapen or speckled with black and blue splotches like deadly flowers blooming beneath the skin. This wasn’t the woman who would spend all morning baking, dancing to a tune only she could hear while the cottage filled with the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon and baked apples.

This had to be some kind of sick joke.

I told myself this over and over again, but her scent-the scent I’d memorized over the long year I’d lived with her, said otherwise.

The only solace, and the only thing keeping me together, was the steady beep from the heartrate monitor at her bedside.

I scanned the room to find Breyona, but instead spotted Mason, Clara, and Holly.

Clara was rubbing Mason’s back in slow, soothing circles, her grief-stricken eyes on where grandma laid in bed. Even the witch, who had somehow become a part of this pack, cared for grandma. Mason’s hazel eyes were bright with tears, the green specks so much brighter when he cried without abandon. His lips were moving, saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Holly was rigid, carved from stone as her attention darted back and forth between grandma and I, unable to settle on one thing.

Chris appeared in the doorway, charging over to grandma’s bedside, his mouth moving but nothing emerged.

I found Breyona standing off to the side, her hand against her lips to muffle the sobs that wracked her chest.

“Where is my dad?” I asked her.

“He’s downstairs…” She whispered, her voice teetering on the edge of a sob. “… identifying the body.”

Again, I blinked and was elsewhere, standing in a dimly lit hallway on the bottom floor of the Hospital. 2

The Morgue.

As the placards above the doors increased in number, I slowed my pace. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember which room Breyona said to go to, but it didn’t matter in the end.

There were windows along the walls that allowed you to see inside, and that was how I found my dad.

No one noticed when the door creaked open, and I stepped inside. Only Flora and the

Pathologist on duty registered my presence, but not my dad.

his head was bowed, and his shoulders quaked with the weight of his grief as he

Sean. 20

to nothing more than a fleshy

agony that encased me in it’s shroud of darkness was unlike anything

hole through

his pale skin. or at the massive gashes covering his body, but I couldn’t look

in my head screeched, ‘This is your fault. This is your fucking fault. Yours, nobody

might burst, but no one seems to register the sound. It’s then I realize

reached the table did my dad’s head snap up. The sight of him,

even though his prime had long passed, was torn to absolute shreds. There was no strength in his glossy eyes, no ferocity on his tear-stained face. Only age lines, grief, and a longing for vengeance

to speak, tried so hard but it came out as a meek

snarled, ‘He knows it’s your fault. He knows. You’re not even his daughter.

but the words faded as he let out a gut- wrenching sob, slamming his hand on the

music, wrapped her dainty arms around my father and held him-held the man who had slaughtered enemies, won wars, and lived to tell the tale. She held the man five times her size as he broke, doing all she could to piece him back together before watching him break again,

for myself. The truth was right in front of my face, but I

was so cold,

Sean was actually

dad. I’m so so sorry.” I whispered, clenching my fists so hard that my

if I started crying, I’d never

his head snapped up and his

this. Promise me-promise me you will, Lola.” He

darkness-the grim determination mixed with heady magic flooding my body was a response to his plea. It was as though all this

promised him,

on repeat, slashing and carving away

Dad doesn’t know.

that

Asher killed Sean.

There was no plan forming in my head, but one way

I’m-I’m so sorry,

do you mean Sean didn’t

them. I was looking for you, and when I stopped by your house and you weren’t there, I figured I’d check Asher’s parents. Claire and Killian weren’t home, and neither was your dad, but your

open. Sean was already…and your grandma, she was on the floor. Before she lost consciousness she told me who

“Who was it, Breyona?”

“Asher…it was Asher.”

now, after seeing his lifeless body for

I entered the hospital room, nothing had

awake, her eyes open and scanning the room before finding

a great deal of my attention to understand the words

to try a little magic to wake

give it a try. I think I

every word I fought tears, but I hoped she could pick up my

the hospital bed was my grandma. She had the same long, flowing hair tinged with silver streaks and a face full of a lifetime of

and let you talk.” Mason murmured; his eyes downcast. “If you need anything, just let

crashing along the sandy shore of a beach. I breathed him in, all the while steadying myself and

them. There would be time to

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