Page 273

The scene shifted again, and Violet found herself standing in front of a younger Asher surrounded by a handful of children around his age. They were clearly pack kids, judging from how familiar they were around him.

"Why don’t you ever play with us?" one of them asked.

"Only children play," Asher replied with that now-familiar scowl, as if the question itself was offensive.

"But you’re a child too," the child pointed out.

Asher narrowed his eyes at him. "I’m an heir. One day, I’m going to rule over all of you, so I don’t need to waste my time like the rest of you," he said unapologetically.

Violet watched the scene unfold with an aching heart. This was supposed to be the age of wonder, of scraped knees and make-believe, but here was Asher, already robbed of his childhood, being forced to grow up far too soon.

"That’s mean of you," the second child said, frowning.

A third boy chimed in sharply, "I don’t blame you. My mom says you’re miserable, and I don’t want to end up like you."

At once, Asher’s countenance shifted. "What did you just say to me?"

The boy’s confidence wavered for a second, but the presence of his friends emboldened him. He said, "Your father beats you and your mother all the time. My mom says kids raised like that will grow up to be trouble."

"Is that so?" Young Asher gave a chilling smile. "Let’s see who ends up being trouble, then."

His voice carried a dark promise that sent shivers down Violet’s spine. She had known adult Asher, and if his younger self was even half as dangerous, then whatever was about to happen next was going to be trouble.

He stared down the mouthy boy and commanded, "Punch your friend in the face. Don’t stop until I say so."

Immediately, the compelled boy turned to his friend. The first boy’s face drained of color, and before he could even react, the first fist collided.

"No, what are you doing, Daniel?!" the second friend cried, stepping forward to intervene, but Asher stepped in and spoke again with power, "Don’t make a move."

The second boy froze in place, watching helplessly as his friend unleashed a flurry of brutal punches. Daniel didn’t stop, not even when his friend’s face began to swell and bleed. Asher just watched, his arms crossed and his face twisted in cruel satisfaction.

His father was right, people only learn their place through power.

"Asher!"

A woman came running onto the scene, and for the first time, Asher’s expression faltered.

Violet recognized her instantly and it was Maria, Asher’s mother.

She didn’t even need to ask what happened. The second she took in the bloodied boy and the frozen child, she stormed toward her son.

"Let him go right now!" she thundered.

"But he started it!" Asher tried to argue.

"I don’t care!" Maria’s voice cracked like a whip. "Asher Nightingale Nightshade, release him from your compulsion right now!"

With a pout, Asher did as commanded. As soon as Daniel was freed, he looked at his bloody hands, then at his friend, now a crumpled mess on the ground. His cries pierced the air as the horror of what he had done sank in.

Maria, ever the composed Luna, moved quickly. She calmed the crying boy, gave orders to the pack members now drawn by the commotion, and ensured the injured child was cared for.

Once the crowd had cleared, only Maria and Asher remained. She spun on him and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you do that to your friend?"

"They’re not my friends," Asher muttered coldly. "Besides, he started it. I only taught him a lesson. If I’m going to lead this pack, they need to respect me."

Maria’s face fell. "Is that what your father told you? Because if you go down that path, you’ll end up ruling a pack of ghosts."

Her hands gripped his shoulders even tighter as she pulled him closer, forcing him to look at her. "Respect is not demanded, Asher. It’s earned. And is that really the kind of Alpha you want to be? One who’s feared? One who hurts his own pack members? Who his people despise?"

There was a flicker of hesitation in Asher’s eyes. She saw it and pressed on.

"For the sake of the woman who might end up as your mate one day, promise me, Asher. Promise me you’ll never raise your hand to her."

Young Asher didn’t understand the weight of what she was asking, not fully. But for his mother’s sake, he answered anyway.

"I promise you."

Maria exhaled shakily, her shoulders dropping as she pulled him into a hug.

"Good boy," she whispered.

And although it went against everything his father drilled into him, Asher leaned into her warmth. He didn’t want to let go. If he could bottle this feeling—this softness, this safety—he would have. But if Henry found out he was softening, the punishment would be brutal.

So this would be their little secret.

Violet watched with a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. If only Asher had more moments like this. But then, she must have jinxed her luck, because the scene shifted again, and this time, she was back inside the house, except now there was a huge ruckus.

Maria and Henry were fighting.

Asher was in bed, but his sharp ears could still catch his mother’s screams as she was being beaten. He shut his eyes, curled into himself, and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.

He wished with everything in him for a different life. A peaceful family. A father who didn’t hurt his mother. A home without fear.

Violet could barely breathe. Her own childhood wasn’t perfect, but this was soul-crushing.

Asher must’ve drifted into uneasy sleep, because the next thing he knew, his bedroom door burst open. He shot up in fear, expecting his father, and his usual punishment.

Instead, it was Maria.

"Mama?" he blinked, his voice trembling.

Maria stood in the doorway, bruises marring her face, but her eyes burned with determination.

"Come on, Asher," she whispered fiercely. "We’re leaving your father."