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.

quaked with the weight of his grief as he cried

Sean. 20

big brother, reduced to nothing more than a

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

death hadn’t hit this hard, hadn’t tore a hole through my chest so large that

or

is your fault. This is your fucking

screaming so loudly I think my ears might burst, but no one seems to register the sound. It’s then I realize the screaming is in my head,

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

to absolute shreds. There was no strength in his glossy eyes, no ferocity on his

I tried to speak, tried so hard but it came out as

it’s your fault. He knows. You’re

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

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 the man five times her size as he broke, doing all she could to piece him back together before

was right

was so cold, his

real. Sean was

so hard that

if I started crying, I’d

up and his eyes found

me-promise me you

justice shattered the last tendrils of restraint keeping me together. The darkness-the grim determination mixed with heady magic flooding my body was a response to his plea. It was as

I promised him, unable

in my head on repeat, slashing and carving away at the bleeding hole in my

Dad doesn’t know.

know that it was

Asher killed Sean.

visit my grandma 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

were attacked. I’m-I’m so sorry,

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

the one that found them. I was looking for you, and when I stopped by your house and you weren’t

I got there, the front door was wide open. Sean was already…and your grandma, she was on the

“Who was it, Breyona?”

“Asher…it was Asher.”

seeing his lifeless body for myself, I wished

I entered the hospital room, nothing had

room before finding me hovering in the doorway,

great deal of my

me before…which is understandable, but I told you I was going to try a little magic to wake her up. I-I

so I figured I’d give it a

My throat was dry and with every word I fought tears, but I hoped she

could see that the woman in the hospital bed was my grandma. She had the same long, flowing hair tinged with silver streaks and a face

to step outside and let you talk.” Mason murmured; his eyes downcast. “If

scent had always been calming, like a gentle wave cresting, crashing along the sandy shore of a beach. I breathed him in, all the while steadying myself and fighting back

told them. There would be time to cry, but only after I