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

reduced to nothing more than

it’s shroud of darkness was unlike anything

hit this hard, hadn’t tore a hole through

pale skin. or at the massive gashes covering his

head screeched, ‘This is your fault. This is

no one seems to register the sound. It’s then I realize the screaming is in my head, but that doesn’t

reached the table did my dad’s head snap up. The sight of him, it made the hole in my chest wider-deeper, than

was torn to absolute shreds.

tried so hard but it came

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

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

the slender woman who preferred flowery sundresses and dancing to whimsical 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

fingers trembled as I reached out, aching to touch my big brother’s skin and see for myself. The truth was right in front of my face,

so cold, his skin

real. Sean

so hard that my muscles cramped

if I started crying,

up and his eyes found

to find the witch that did this. Promise me-promise me

determination mixed with heady magic flooding my body was a response to his

promised him,

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

Dad doesn’t know.

know that it

Asher killed Sean.

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

Sean…they were attacked. I’m-I’m so

you mean Sean didn’t make it? Who-Who attacked

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

was wide open. Sean was already…and your grandma, she was

“Who was it, Breyona?”

“Asher…it was Asher.”

lifeless body for myself, I

the hospital room, nothing had changed. Well,

scanning the room before finding

herself from Mason and spoke softly. It took a great deal of

heard me before…which is understandable, but I told you I was going to try a little magic to wake her up. I-I have some distant relatives that

I figured I’d give it a try. I think I healed her

was dry and with every word I fought tears, but I hoped she could pick

the woman in 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 joy. That joy had been dimmed immensely, but this was still the

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

pulled me into his arms. His scent had always been calming, like a gentle wave cresting, crashing along the sandy shore of a beach. I breathed him in, all the

would be time to cry, but only after I