Chapter 482

“Oh, you certainly can’t say that,” Micah said with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Asher’s brow arched instantly.
Micah straightened up, though he still made sure his body brushed Adele’s. That was the only thing keeping his sanity right now.
Unlike Roman and Violet, they weren’t going to be dramatic about the Matebond snapping in place between them. But the bond was there, pulsing under his skin like an annoying itch and demanding he claimed her.
Soon, though.
For now, there were more critical issues to deal with than surrendering to the mating frenzy. He would fight it for as long as he could and then, when they were finally alone, he’d devour her to his heart’s content.
Thankfully, Adele also had enough self-control not to tear his clothes off and rut him like an animal.
Not that he’d have minded.
Perfect match made in heaven, aye?
His voice cut through the tension. “There will be no mention of Henry’s contribution to this attack.”
Asher’s head jerked toward him, a dangerous growl rumbling from his chest. That better be a joke. Micah had five seconds to laugh and take it back.
Sensing the shift in the air, Micah said calmly, “The moment Elijah finds out Henry was in league with Patrick, the Nightshade Clan as we know it is finished.”
Alaric’s shoulders went rigid. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, though the dread creeping into his voice said otherwise. “You’re protecting Henry?”
“No,” Micah replied. “I’m protecting Asher.”
“Over my dead body!” Asher snapped, his eyes glowing and his muscles tensed as his wolf rose to the surface.
Adele flinched, but Micah held firm.
“My uncle has been looking for an excuse to tear the West House down ever since the alphas challenged his rule by creating you four,” Micah said. “What do you think he’ll do when he learns your father betrayed him?”
Asher’s chest heaved with his fists clenched.
“Elijah doesn’t forgive betrayal. He’ll use it to erase the Nightshade legacy, accuse you of treason by bloodline. Henry might have been a horrible man but he sure knew how to hold his pack together. But with him out of the way, you’re vulnerable. A scandal like this gives Elijah the perfect excuse to remove you and replace you with someone who answers to him.”
“No. No, no Asher shook his head hard, as if trying to reject the thought completely. “I’m his heir!” he snarled. “He can’t lay a hand on me!”
Micah’s laugh was humorless. “You actually believe that? That Elijah cares about you? He has three other heirs. If one dies, there are three more to choose from. And between us, I think he’d sleep easier without the cleverest one around.”
Asher froze on the spot. At this point, he wasn’t even breathing anymore. He stood so still one would compare him to a statue.
Micah pressed on. “So here’s the story. Eager to find his son who had gone off the radar with his friends, Henry tracked you here, and upon finding you mid-battle joined our side. He died in the explosion the enemy triggered, trying to protect us.”
When no one spoke, Elijah added. This is the version we tell, unless, of course, you’d rather Elijah writes his own ending for us.”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Asher’s lips began to tremble, the emotion boiling just beneath the surface finally breaking through. But instead of lashing out, a tear slid down his cheek. Then a second. And a third.
Alaric froze.
He had never seen Asher cry before. Not once. Not even when his mother died.
“He’s a monster,” Asher said hoarsely.
“I know,” Micah answered softly.
“He hurt my mother.”
“I know,” Micah repeated, calm and steady, in the manneryou’d speak to someone standing at the edge of a cliff.
“He drove her to her death.” More tears welled in Asher’s eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, furiously scrubbing at his face. “He drove me to the edge.” His voice cracked. “And then he tried to hurt Violet too. And you want me to cover up what he did? Are you fucking kidding me?!”
His voice roared through the crater, echoing off the broken earth.
Micah didn’t flinch. “I’m trying to save your life here, Asher. That’s the only reason I’m still talking.”
He took a step closer, his voice lowered. “Throughout history, worse men have buried what they did and crowned themselves in glory. I’m not saying we paint Henry as a saint. But for this accident, don’t poke the hornets’ nest unless you’re ready to burn with it.” Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn.net
Asher’s jaw clenched.
Micah pressed on. “Elijah already knows he fucked up by working with Patrick, and President Roy is breathing down his neck to clean up the mess. You think he’s going to let you off easy? You’re the perfect scapegoat, Asher. Don’t give him the reason.”
For a moment, Asher’s gaze drifted. His eyes looked a thousand miles away, trapped in a memory no one else could see.
Then a warm hand clasped his.
Alaric.
He didn’t speak and just held on, silently supporting him.
“Micah makes a fine point,” Alaric said finally. “None of our parents can know what really happened here. Not when they’d throw you under the bus to eliminate competition. We have to bury it here. Now.”
Asher blinked, slowly turning his head to face him. His expression was tired. Like bone-deep tired. And not even sleep could fix it.
“Elijah is not stupid,” he murmured. “He’ll never believe a word of this.”
“But he doesn’t have evidence,” Micah pointed out. “Suspicion is all he has and that’s not enough. Who would really believe Henry colluded with an outsider against his own kind? Hell, I still have goosebumps. And if there’s anyone Elijah will fixate on next, it’s not us
He looked at them all grimly. “It’s Violet. This incident has exposed her. He’d have his eyes on her and I’m afraid we can’t hide her secret forever.”
Adele, who had been listening in silence, turned her head sharply. “Whatever decision you’re all making, better make it fast. They’re is getting closer.” She tilted her head slightly. “I hear eight, maybe ten people approaching.”
The others tensed.
Alaric looked back at Asher, his voice urgent now. “For Violet’s sake, you can’t die yet.”
That did it.
Asher took a deep breath, the air shaking in his lungs.
“Fine,” he spat, every syllable bitter. “Let’s make my father, Henry Nightshade, the fucking hero of today’s incident.”