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"Excuse me?" Asher said, sounding as if he had misheard her. He stared at the corroded, blackened smear that used to be Alaric’s sample.

"It was a standard blood file from a previous medical checkup Alaric had with me. I had it on hand, so I used it," Adele explained, her brows drawn together. "Why? Is anything the matter?"

Instead of answering, Asher burst into laughter. He cackled the way a movie villain might after a grand revelation. The sound carried through the lab, and sent a chill along Adele’s spine.

"That is not funny, Asher Nightshade. Now tell me, what’s the issue here?" she demanded, crossing her arms as though to protect herself from his unsettling amusement.

He ceased laughing but the cruel gleam in his eyes remained, his lips curling slightly. "Has anyone told you that Violet Purple is immune to Alaric’s lightning?"

"What?!" Adele nearly dropped the vial in her hand, her jaw falling open. "No, that’s impossible. She can’t be—" Her voice died, eyes going wide as the blood drained from her face. "Goddess help us."

A wave of realization struck her. "Violet Purple isn’t immune to Alaric’s lightning," she breathed, horror lacing every syllable. "She’s killing him."

Adele’s mind was racing, her pulse hammering so loudly in her ears. She began to pace, her lab coat flouncing around her knees. "We have to warn Alaric. He has to stay away from Violet. At least, until we figure out whatever she is."

"Well, both of them have broken up, so I guess there’ll be no seeing each other. Thank the gods," Asher replied nonchalantly, though the satisfaction in his tone was obvious.

Asher didn’t say it because Alaric would be safe, but because there’d be no one standing between him and his purple queen.

Adele spun to face him, expression grim. "Ahh, right. I heard the results of your guys’ pretty game. But do you really think that’s enough to keep Alaric away from her? I’ve seen the way he looks at her. You too..." She trailed off, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.

"You too..." Adele repeated, her words a whisper as she realized something. Then, her eyes hardened with resolve. "You have to take the test too, Asher."

"Why?" Asher asked with arrogant calm. "Violet Purple is not immune to my powers, if you recall."

"Perhaps not yet," Adele retorted, "but maybe whatever death is in her blood, or whatever creature she is, simply hasn’t learned to adapt to your mental powers. Perhaps one day, she’ll turn that power against you and wipe off that smugness right off your face. So are you doing the test, yes or no?"

Asher merely lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Fine. It wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway."

"Good."

Adele pointed Asher toward a high-backed swivel stool in the corner, clearing space on the table next to him.

"Sit," Adele commanded, donning a fresh pair of latex gloves.

Asher complied, rolling up his sleeve as Adele sterilized the area with a swipe of alcohol. The needle punctured his skin with a swift prick and dark crimson filled the syringe. Asher watched the whole process impassively, his face a study in boredom mixed with thinly veiled curiosity.

Adele removed the syringe, pressing a small wad of gauze to his arm, then turned her back to him, heading for the temperature-controlled rack holding what remained of Violet’s blood.

She placed Asher’s sample and Violet’s in two adjacent slides, layering them onto a single petri dish rigged with sensors and connected to a computer display. She stepped aside, allowing Asher a clear view of the screen that would log any interactions.

"The principle," Adele explained as she keyed in a few commands, "is the same as with Alaric’s test. If Violet’s blood is indeed hostile toward werewolf blood, there might be a reaction when they come into contact."

So together, they watched the digital display. A whir sound came to life as the mixing process began, rotating the dish gently.

Seconds passed. There was nothing.

A minute passed and still nothing.

Asher leaned against the table, arms crossed, a smug twist at the corner of his mouth. "How long did it take for Alaric’s sample?"

"In the blink of an eye," Adele admitted, eyes glued to the monitor. "It ate it up so quickly, I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe we need to give this one more time."

Asher let out a dismissive "Mm-hmm," the tone laced with condescension. His posture all but screamed *I told you so*.

Five minutes ticked by, the hum of the machine the only noise in the tense silence. Yet there was no reaction. The readout remained flat, no spikes, no sign of corrosion.

Finally, Adele exhaled, stepping back from the equipment. "Maybe I was wrong," she mumbled, eyes darting between the inert slides and the numbers on the screen.

"Indeed, you are," Asher said, sounding immensely pleased with himself. In fact, confidence was practically oozing from every pore in his body.

There was nothing. He was safe from Violet’s lethal anomaly, while Alaric was not. The Gods had confirmed it. He and Violet were a match made in heaven.

The plan to involve his cardinal brothers in the rebellion against the Alpha king no longer mattered. Violet would be his and his alone. Others could go die as long as he cared — especially that betrayer, Roman.

Adele tapped a button to pause the rotation. She jotted down some final notes, her mind already moving to the next steps.

"We still have to warn Alaric," Adele said, glancing sidelong at Asher. "He has to know in case he plans on still seeing Violet secretly. If he does, who knows what might happen? I need more tests to figure Violet out, but for now, we can’t risk losing the North Pack’s heir to mysterious circumstances. It would be chaos."

Except she forgot a certain Alpha loved chaos.

"I’m afraid that’s not going to happen," Asher said darkly, making goosebumps appear on her arm.

Adele whipped her head around, and what she saw on Asher’s face was enough for dread to coil in her gut.

"No!" she cried, voice trembling with anger. "You’re going to keep this from him? Just to get rid of your competition for the throne?"

Asher’s mouth curved into an unkind smile. "Sorry, but there are no brothers in the jungle."

Realization hit Adele like a punch. She spun on her heel, trying to escape the lab. If she could just warn Alaric, or even inform someone else — but it was too late.

Asher appeared behind her in a blur, strong fingers digging into her shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded, turning her around with ease.

Adele tried to avert her gaze, tried to clamp down her thoughts, but Asher’s mental pull was overwhelming. She felt her mind begin to succumb to his command.

"I want you to forget all about that day with Violet," he said, voice smooth as silk, and filled with the intangible power of compulsion.

"Forget the blood. Forget the test. Her abnormalities are just a fluke, a quirk, and anything else you discover will mean nothing. You won’t remember this conversation or these results. "

Adele shuddered, instinctively raising her mental walls, but they were flimsy against his alpha dominance. Had she been an Alpha herself, she would have put up a fight and perhaps won, but Adele was an ordinary werewolf with just healing powers.

Asher tore down her mental walls like a child dismantling a house of cards and she felt a haze settle over her, like a thick fog creeping across her consciousness.

By the time Asher was done, her eyes were vacant. A beat passed. Adele blinked, then turned away, moving in a dull, mechanical fashion to obey his commands. She began packing up the test equipment, removing the slides from the rig, discarding them according to standard lab protocol.

But then she noticed something.

"What is this?" Adele mumbled, frowning at the petri dish.

Asher stepped forward, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Violet’s sample had begun breaking down his blood. Unlike Alaric’s rapid reaction, this was more insidious. Molecule by molecule, it corroded his cells as if it were adapting, learning his composition. There was no violent reaction, just a slow, inevitable consumption until there was nothing left.

Asher’s jaw clenched, the victory draining from his eyes, replaced by a chilling reality: He was not immune.

If not, all of them.