Asher knew the moment Elijah’s phone rang that the hornet’s nest had been poked. He didn’t so much as blink, his expression perfectly neutral, and body language betraying nothing as Elijah lifted the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Elijah answered, sounding almost bored.
With his keen hearing, Asher caught the faint words from the other end, "They’re gone."
For the briefest moment, a flicker of annoyance crossed Elijah’s face, and then it was gone. "Is that so?" he said quietly, the edge beneath his tone unmistakable. "Hold onto him. We’ll arrive soon."
Asher knew exactly who him was.
Roman.
And judging by Elijah’s tone, whatever awaited his brother wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Yet Asher didn’t so much as twitch. He sat there with his hands relaxed, his posture casual, and his expression practically carved from ice. He gave Elijah nothing to read.
Elijah ended the call and slowly set the phone aside. Then, deliberately, he turned his head toward Asher.
Asher met his gaze without flinching.
For several long, suffocating heartbeats, they simply stared at one another. The tension was thick and electric, the air between them almost crackling with heat. At that moment, they were two predators circling each other in silence.
Then, without warning, Elijah’s face split into a wide, twisted grin. A chuckle escaped him, building until it became full-blown, raucous laughter. It went on and on until tears streaked his face.
"This..." Elijah gasped between peals of laughter, "this is going to be fun."
He turned back to the front, still laughing as though someone had told the funniest joke in the world, except no one had.
Asher remained still, his face unreadable. But beneath his tough exterior, his hand shook slightly. He thought he had the situation under control. Still, one could never truly predict the moves of a madman.
And so, with that manic laughter still lingering in the air, they continued the tortured journey to the packhouse.
Patricia and Beta Dominic were the first figures they saw as soon as the convoy of cars rolled into the compound.
"Your Majesty," both of them bowed their heads in deep reverence the moment Elijah stepped out.
Behind them, the other cars came to a halt, and the loud thunk-thunk of doors opening and slamming shut reverberated across the space as the rest of the alphas and dignitaries disembarked.
Elijah was still exchanging formal greetings with the high-ranking members of the West Pack when the commotion broke out.
A loud snarl rent the air.
Roman was resisting violently as Christian slammed him face-first against the hood of a car, his arm twisted painfully behind his back. His muscles strained as his body writhed like a coiled serpent, green scales rippling across his skin as his slitted eyes blazed with fury.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Alpha Leon stormed forward. His chest heaved with rage at the sight of his son being handled like a common criminal.
Christian didn’t answer. He kept Roman pinned, his grip iron-tight, his expression cold and unyielding. Roman snarled again, the sound guttural and dangerous.
"King’s orders," he snarled back.
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