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Asher knew right at that moment that he had royally and totally fucked up.

He had just compelled Adele to forget everything that happened, right when his own fate suddenly seemed to hang in the balance as well.

It dawned on Asher that he was slipping; the once-perfect finesse he prided himself on was cracking. And that alone was frustrating.

Everything was supposed to fall in line with his plans. After all, he was the puppet master, the one who pulled the strings and watched everyone dance. But now, the threads were tangling, and he was making mistake after mistake, as if he’d lost his touch.

Fuck. Asher cursed under his breath. He could not compel Adele to remember again, not today, at least. The mind was a fragile thing, and compulsion was an invasive force.

The mind wasn’t some unbreakable puzzle box and too much tampering could tear its delicate threads, and damaging Elijah’s prized healer would bring consequences he didn’t need at the moment.

Adele, her mind fogged by compulsion, gazed blankly at the dish, confusion knitting her brow. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked in a slow, dreamlike tone.

Asher’s gaze hardened and without a second thought, he snatched the dish from her and crushed it in his hand, glass shards tinkling to the floor. Both his own blood sample and the remainder of Violet’s were destroyed, leaving no trace of the alarming discovery.

He clenched his teeth, the implications rattling through his mind. So it wasn’t just Alaric’s blood sample that Violet’s blood could devour. She could do the same to him. That reality was as sobering as it was infuriating.

But Asher forced his features into a cold mask.

Whatever was happening, he would figure it out on his own.

His purple queen was meant for him and not even her lethal DNA could stop him.

She would not harm him, he had that much faith.

But if he does die in her pursuit, then this had to be the greatest game he had ever played.

"Dispose of everything properly," he instructed Adele, "and make sure no one sees you do it. Then forget you saw that."

"Yes," Adele replied in that same dazed tone of voice, her eyes glassy and unfocused as the command overrode any conscious doubt.

With one last look at the shattered glass on the floor, Asher turned on his heel and strode from the lab.

Jeremiah was waiting just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as if anticipating his return. The moment Asher stepped through, Jeremiah straightened, concern etched on his face.

"Did you see Adele? What happened? Did she say why she’s been away?"

"Prepare my things. I’m going off campus." Asher said without slowing.

"What?" Jeremiah balked, rushing to keep up with Asher’s brisk pace. "I don’t understand. Where are you going?"

Asher’s lips curved into a humorless smile as he replied without looking back.

"I’m going to have a little chat with my future mother-in-law."

Jeremiah’s eyes widened, confusion spreading across his features as he processed those words.

But Asher offered no further explanation. He walked in the direction of his house, his active mind already calculating and coming up with contingency plans he’d need for his next move.

Back at the West House dormitory, Jeremiah didn’t give up. Even as he stuffed Asher’s belongings into a travel bag, he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

"How many days’ journey?" he asked pointedly. "Should I add more clothes?"

But Asher shook his head. "Less clothes. I can buy more if the situation calls for it. Instead, pack a lot of cash..." He paused, then added coolly, "with two or so weapons."

Jeremiah lifted a brow. "Are you going to meet your mother-in-law or mutilate her? Remember she’s Violet’s mother, it’d help you in the long run. Unless of course you want your story to be an enemy to lovers’ kind. I hear women dig it. "

"As if we aren’t already," Asher said with a careless shrug, tugging on his black jacket. He knew his Beta was practically dying to know more, and Asher, though secretive, decided to drop him a crumb of information.

"District One is one of the worst zones in this country—poverty-stricken, lawless, violent and overrun by gangs. Makes sense my Purple Queen’s got thick hides. Hardly any werewolf is found there, so guess what happens when one suddenly appears?" He left Jeremiah to fill in the blanks.

Jeremiah frowned with concern. "If that’s the case, then let me go with—"

"You’re my Beta," Asher cut in. "You’ll stay and rule in my stead. I told you already, I want my absence under wraps. No one can know where I am or what I’m up to."

He stepped closer, the air tensing with authority. "Besides, didn’t I hear there’s some beef with members of the South House? Go teach those sons of a bitch a lesson, show them why the West House doesn’t entertain traitors."

"Then at least go with a Gamma," Jeremiah pressed, refusing to drop it.

"The tracker is enough. If you don’t hear from me in a week, you know what to do."

Still unsatisfied, Jeremiah snapped, "Is she even worth it? Violet doesn’t know the sacrifices you make for her. All she does is ignore you like some bitch—"

Asher’s warning growl cut him off. His eyes flashed dangerously as he snarled, "You will not speak of her that way again or I’ll cut out that tongue of yours."

Then, in a voice dripping with finality, he declared, "I’m the Alpha. The king. It is my responsibility to go to war for my queen, and she receives me in return when I’m back."

Jeremiah swallowed hard, at a loss for words.

Grabbing the bag, Asher slung it over his shoulder. "Until I’m back, keep an eye on my Violent queen. If anything happens to her before I return..." he gave Jeremiah a long, cold look, "you’d better end your own life before I send you to hell myself."