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The final gunfire echoed and the dance of bullets finally ended.

There was nothing but silence.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of gunpowder, corpses and spent cartridges littering the room.

However, outside the door were muffled screams and sporadic gunshots as Philip and the compelled guards carried out Asher’s earlier instruction to keep the rest of Red Dragon’s members from barging in.

In the room itself, Asher stepped out from the side he’d used for cover, dusting off stray bits of debris as though this deadly scuffle had been nothing more than a minor nuisance.

At the same time Samuel crawled out from under the table, pale and shaken but unscathed. Across from him, Umal and his two remaining guards emerged from the same table, their eyes wide with horror when they saw the aftermath.

All of Samuel’s capos—his highest-ranking men, those who had commanded their own factions, and reported directly to him and Titan— and his guards, all lay dead.

Samuel’s breath hitched, his face torn between disbelief and grief as his eyes raked over the carnage. This was a catastrophic loss for Red Dragon, the kind that could destabilize everything.

Samuel bowed his head, hands balling into fists, his body tight with fury and mourning. He whispered bitterly, "You’re that wolf, the one that can do stuff with his mind."

His dark gaze snapped up to Asher, his expression now steeled with acceptance and resentment.

"What do you want?" His voice was edged with exhaustion and wariness. "Your kind doesn’t travel this far for nothing."

"I’m sorry for your loss." Asher’s tone sounded sympathetic, yet lacked real warmth.

He let his gaze drift over the bodies, then back to Samuel. "But it’s not on me, I did warn them."

Samuel’s jaw tightened. He wanted to avenge his men, but he could not defeat Asher. Not to mention the wolves were involved now. This matter was now beyond him.

Asher continued, stepping forward. "And you’re right, I did come here with purpose. You see—"

He abruptly stopped, his keen senses picking up the faintest click behind him. His slitted eyes snapped to Umal, whose hand subtly rested on the lock of a briefcase.

His eyes narrowed at once. Now that Asher thought about it, something about the man’s demeanor rang alarm bells in his mind. There was something off about the man.

Unlike the Red Dragon members, who were clueless to his powers, Umal had known from the start to avoid eye contact. That singled him out as someone more dangerous or better informed. That wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a coincidence either.

Asher’s eyes pierced through him, analyzing. "What’s in that briefcase?"

The way Umal stiffened confirmed it might be a question with lethal consequences. It was all Asher needed.

Knowing he has been exposed, Umal snatched the briefcase and barked out a command at the tester. "Kill him!" Then he turned, backing away toward the exit.

At once, a feral roar erupted from the side of the room. The tester, who had been lurking during the commotion, slammed his fists against his chest as though to hype himself up. His wild, dilated eyes locked onto Asher.

It was a challenge and Asher lifted an unimpressed brow. All he could see was a severely emaciated man asking for death. So he remained in his spot, his stance lazy, and his muscles relaxed.

And when the tester lunged, Asher caught him by the head in a humiliating hold and a show of his werewolf strength.

The sheer disparity in power should have been enough to end the fight right there except the tester thrust his fist straight into his chest and Asher was sent flying, slamming to the ground meters away.

The air left his lungs in a rush, and he actually coughed blood, eyes wide with shock. How the hell?

He’d scented this guy as human. There was zero reason for him to pack such insane strength. It was impossible.

However, Asher was smart and his gaze rushed back to Umal, who was retreating toward the door— the briefcase. Something about it unsettled him and to think Umal was trying to leave with it.

Not happening.

As if the gods were on his side, one of Umal’s guards flanking him glanced toward him, probably just out of curiosity. But that was enough.

Asher seized his mind. The guard stiffened, then grabbed Umal from behind and hurled him back.

Umal crashed to the floor, the briefcase flying from his grip and bursting open. Some of the small bottles tumbled free, rolling across the blood-streaked floor.

His eyes widened in horror. No, no, no.

Then he bellowed at his other guard who was confused by what was happening, "Quick! Kill him before he ends us!" he pointed at the enthralled one.

While the two men grappled fiercely, Umal lunged forward in desperation, frantically scrambling for the contents of the briefcase. There were ten vials in total, but after the first test, there should have been nine left.

Unfortunately, two shattered upon impact and Umal snatched up what bottles he could, which was only five; two were missing. His face twisted in frustration. Where was it?

But there was no time to dwell. His remaining guard was losing the fight against the one Asher had compelled. If he didn’t leave now, his life would end in this wretched place.

With a snarl of frustration, Umal closed the briefcase and bolted.

Meanwhile, Asher and the drugged tester circled each other. Asher could have compelled the man and ended this quickly.

But he didn’t. Instead, Asher studied him. He wanted to know how a frail junkie could hit him so hard. It was possibly the same substance in those bottles and he intended to find out just how effective it was.

The tester, fueled by mania, lunged again.

He was fast— faster than a human should be.

But Asher was ready.

And this time?

He wasn’t going to hold back.