Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

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.

shoulders quaked with the weight of his grief as he cried over the lifeless

Sean. 20

to

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

this hard, hadn’t tore a hole through my chest

didn’t want to look at him, at his pale skin. or at the

head screeched, ‘This is your fault. This is your fucking fault. Yours,

might burst, but no one seems to register the sound. It’s then I realize the screaming is in my head, but that doesn’t make it stop. If anything, it makes it grow

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

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

tried to speak, tried so hard but it came

your fault. He knows. You’re not even his daughter. You killed his son, his only child. Killed

he let out a gut- wrenching sob, slamming his hand on the surface of the metal

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,

my big brother’s skin and see for myself. The truth was right in front of my face, but I couldn’t accept it-not

cold,

Sean was

dad. I’m so so sorry.” I whispered, clenching my fists so hard that my muscles cramped and spasmed, but it kept the tears

Dad, if I started crying, I’d

head snapped up

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

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

him,

left, the same thought played in my head on repeat, slashing and carving away at

Dad doesn’t know.

doesn’t know that it was

Asher killed Sean.

one last time before hunting down the witch that attacked them. There was no plan forming in my head, but one way or another I would find her and make her pay. The entire walk, Breyona’s words back at the clearing replayed in my

Sean…they were attacked. I’m-I’m so sorry, Lola. Sean

you mean Sean didn’t make

to understand, Lola. I—I was the one that found 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

got there, the front door was wide open. Sean was already…and your grandma, she was on the floor. Before she lost consciousness she told me

“Who was it, Breyona?”

“Asher…it was Asher.”

his lifeless body for myself,

the hospital room, nothing had changed. Well, except for one

the room before finding me hovering in the doorway, pale as

and spoke softly. It took a great deal of my attention to understand

don’t think you heard me before…which is understandable, but I told you I was going to try a little magic to wake

figured I’d give it a

was dry and with every word I fought tears,

She had the same long, flowing hair tinged with silver streaks and a face full of a lifetime of joy. That joy had been dimmed immensely, but this was still the woman I knew

going to step outside and let you talk.” Mason murmured; his eyes downcast. “If you need anything, just let us know,

into his arms. His scent had always been calming, like a gentle wave cresting, crashing along the sandy shore of

now,’ I told them. There would be time to cry, but only after I found the witch