3. Asher

Chapter 3

Asher

H er fear is thick and tangible. I almost feel sorry for her, but I keep my sentiments to myself. Neither one of my brothers is in any state of mind to accept my opinion on this woman, whoever she is, and I’m in no position to show weakness. Squaring my shoulders, I clamp my lips together and maintain my silence like always, listening instead of being heard like Malachi.

“Bringing her into Oak Valley is a bad idea,” Malachi says again. “She’s clearly a witch. Bringing her into our domain puts us all at risk.”

Thankfully, Warrick isn’t hearing him. His attraction to her overcomes his concern about what she is, and I’m just as captivated by her as my older brother.

“At risk for what exactly?” Warrick scoffs, no longer concerned by her uncanny ability to steal his form.

She’s afraid now, as she should be, trying to hide away as we gather around the bars of the holding cells at our estate.

A magnetic pull draws me toward the bars of the underground cells, luring me closer to her, where she cowers in the shadows. The glow behind her ear illuminates the darkness of the cells, drawing one of the other prisoners closer toward her. Tavric is captivated by the mark, just as I had been at the full moon party, his eyes widen with an interest that bothers me.

“Give her space,” I command him.

Immediately, the prisoner backs off, skulking away as he sees me watching. He peers at me as I summon the girl closer, my brothers still fighting quietly behind me.

“She’s a witch,” Malachi reiterates to Warrick. “A shapeshifter. Keeping her here is problematic.”

“She’s a shifter—one of us,” Warrick counters. “I don’t think she’s a witch. Witches can’t shift.”

“Sure they can—or at least they can give you the illusion of shifting,” Malachi insists. “Maybe she never really shifted in the first place and just made us believe she did.”

Half-listening to their whispered argument, I lock eyes with the girl, her fear mounting as she licks her lips nervously.

“Come here,” I growl, extending my finger toward her and wait for her to approach, but she keeps her distance.

She eyes the other captives warily as if trying to figure out who they are and why they’re there.

“Closer,” I urge her.

She inhales shakily and shuffles forward, but maintains a healthy space, as if she thinks I’m going to reach through the iron bars and throttle her.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

She wraps the blanket around her makeshift dress tighter, the potato-sack garment standard issue for all the female prisoners, although there haven’t been many in recent years.

Defiantly, she throws her head back and glares at me. “You don’t know?” she asks.

My brow furrows, almost in amusement, but I realize she’s asking me more than offering a challenge.

Tavric circles her again, staring at the glowing mark behind her ear. The crescent moon shape triggers something in the recesses of my mind, and I still can’t place it.

“Leave her,” I order the prisoner again, and he grunts, ambling to the far side of the cell, folding his arms sulkily. Suddenly, I don’t like this arrangement one bit, having her alone with the male captives in the cells.

“Open the door,” I order the guard.

Both my brothers stop speaking, and the other prisoners shuffle forward hopefully, as though they expect I’m freeing them.

“Stand back!” the guard snaps at the male prisoners, baring his fangs.

The woman pulls the thin blanket tighter around her, blue eyes shooting nervously toward me as Warrick and Malachi stalk forward. She’s the only prisoner who steps back as the door clangs open—the noise echoing through the tunnels below our estate.

“What are you doing?” Malachi demands.

“We need to question her separately from here,” I order.

It’s so unlike me to make significant decisions without my brothers’ input that neither of them questions it, though their wide-eyed stares suggest they think I’ve lost my mind, making me second-guess myself yet again.

Still, I stand firm in my decision.

“Take her to the boardroom,” I announce.

There’s a slight hesitation before the guard reaches forward to seize her arm, the other captives rushing forward in unison.

“Don’t be stupid,” Warrick growls at them, stepping forward.

His words are enough to send them back in fear, and a stab of envy courses through me. They don’t fear me as much as they do my brother, apparently.

The woman tries to pull out of the grip of the guard, but she’s no match for the lumbering bear shifter who snarls menacingly at her. “Don’t make this difficult,” he warns her.

“We let you off nicely last time,” Warrick tells her flatly. “Don’t mistake our kindness for weakness.”

Blood drains from her already fair cheeks, rendering her almost opaque. Flanked between the four of us, she allows herself to be half-dragged back up the maze of tunnels.

“They live through you,” Tavric calls out as the door slams.

My head swivels back to look at him curiously, but he’s already faded back into the shadows.

“What’s he yammering on about?” Warrick mutters, but I have no answer.

The woman casts another look over her shoulder as we whisk her up through the underground toward the estate.

“Bringing her into the house is a bad idea,” Malachi grumbles, but in a tone that signifies he knows he’s outnumbered.

It’s just a bad idea keeping her among those too-thirsty prisoners, even if that’s exactly where she belongs.

Dawn breaks over the distant mountains as we herd her through the back doors, leaving the prison guard outside. If we need him, we’ll summon him, but something tells me she’s not about to try to shift again, not when we’re scrutinizing her so carefully, waiting for her to screw up.

She’s still trembling when she sits in the boardroom. The glass-walled room sits at the heart of our shared workspace; its one-way glass providing an unobstructed view from each of our offices. It’s designed this way so each of us can conduct business “privately” while still knowing what the others are up to, without our visitors knowing they are being observed.

Awe floods her face as she takes in the extravagant fixtures, but she’s doing her best not to show how impressed she is by the surroundings. It had already been clear by her casual attire that she wasn’t a girl of means, the simple black jeans and tank top were hardly designer brands.

I wonder if this is some kind of robbery attempt gone wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time a coven or human had tried during a full moon event, the posh cars lining up at the lake in the parking lots easy fodder for less than savory souls.

But that doesn’t feel right either.

“What’s your name?” I ask her again when she sits at the head of the table, her shaking hands splayed open in front of her.

Even in the ugly sack dress, her curves are apparent, the lithe lines of her slender form drawing me closer, but I maintain a healthy distance, perching on the edge of the table, folding my arms across my chest as I try to identify her. I know her… somehow. But I’m sure I’ve never seen her in my life. With that face, I’d remember. Through my peripheral view, I can see my brothers struggling with her, too, although in different ways.

Malachi is livid, steam still pluming from his ears and nose as he paces around her.

Warrick is intrigued. He feels the pull, too, but given what she’s done, the ability she possesses, he’s rightfully wary of her.

“You tell me!” she fires back, maintaining her aggression, but it’s faltering under all three of our steadfast stares.

Malachi has had enough of her sass and advances on her, spreading his wings, half-shifting to release a stream of smoke from his nostrils. Dread floods her face, and I smother a sigh. I want to tell him to calm down, that scaring her isn’t helping anything.

“Poppy,” she squeaks. “My name is Poppy.”

Warrick gestures at Malachi to stand down, and my brother spits out a puff of fire onto the floor, causing Poppy to flinch. She sets her gaze down on the table, and Malachi shifts fully back into his human form, shaking his head while pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you come tonight?” I ask. “To the full moon party?”

The corners of her mouth turn inward, but she doesn’t raise her head.

“Are you a witch?” Malachi demands. “Who the hell are you? Did someone send you?”

His rapid-fire questions make me uneasy. I can only imagine what they’re doing to her.

“She’s a shifter,” Warrick insists. “But you’re not a white wolf. We’re too rare—and you looked too much like me.”

I see her eying me through her peripheral vision as if I’m going to save her in some way.

Sorry, kid. You picked the wrong brother to help you out of this mess, I muse.

All the same, I want to know about her.

“Do you know who we are?” I ask her slowly, inching closer across the boardroom.

She scoffs, and her response surprises me, just like it does my brothers.

“She’s quite disrespectful, isn’t she?” Malachi hisses, slapping his hands over the surface of the table furiously.

Poppy flinches with the gesture.

“Malachi,” I murmur, holding up a hand, my eyes still fixed on her. “Do you? Do you know who we are?”

“The Bloodstone brothers—the Apex Alphas of Tennessee,” she mutters, finally lifting her chin to meet my eyes. “I know who you are.”

“How do you know us? Are you a member of a pack here in Tennessee?” I prompt.

She gnaws nervously on the insides of her cheeks and shakes her head.

“Are you a shifter?” I urge, sensing my brothers’ rising displeasure.

The more evasive she is, the worse this is going to be for her.

“You better start talking, sweetie,” Malachi drawls, circling around her contemptuously. “Or we’re just going to throw you back in the cells with the other prisoners. I bet they’ll enjoy having a pretty thing like you after all these years in solitude.”

I give my younger brother a reproving look, but his threat terrifies Poppy enough to get her speaking some.

“I don’t know what I am!” she blurts out. “I’m not a witch!”

It’s a start, but it doesn’t answer our questions.

“You’re a shifter,” Warrick concludes.

“No… well, yes,” she mumbles, slinking lower in her chair as if she wants to disappear.

“Yes or no?” Malachi hisses, towering over her.

“Malachi,” I sigh again.

“She’s being evasive!” my younger brother explodes. “On purpose!”

Warrick and I exchange a look, and he intercepts Malachi’s forceful approach, leading our baby brother toward a nearby chair as I gently continue the interrogation.

“You’ll have to elaborate on what you mean,” I tell her. “How can you be a shifter and not a shifter? We all saw you shift at the bonfire. And if you’re not performing some kind of dark magic?—”

“It’s not dark magic. I genuinely shifted!” Desperately, she looks around, the desire to escape naked in her eyes, but I silently will her to be calm, to not make any stupid moves. I can’t attest to what Malachi might do if she reacts badly when he’s already on edge.

“What did you shift into on your fifteenth birthday?” Warrick asks, sensing my concerns.

“I didn’t.”

Dumbfounded, we all stare at her, including Malachi, whose disbelief is palpable now. “You didn’t?” he echoes. “And you claim you’re not a witch?”

Miserably, she drops her head. “I didn’t even know I could shift until last year,” she confesses.

Worried, all three of us back up.

“How old are you?” I ask nervously.

“Twenty-two.”

More confusion floods the boardroom as we try to make sense of what she’s saying.

“I don’t understand,” Warrick growls in annoyance. “Then you’re a witch.”

“I thought I was a witch… or human, maybe?”

This conversation is making me more uncomfortable by the second.

“How the hell is that possible?” Now Warrick is just as suspicious as Malachi, and I’m not sure I blame either of them. None of what she says makes sense. She should have shifted on her fifteenth birthday if she's a shifter.

“All I know is that last year, I touched a shifter and became his animal form upon contact.”

Warrick’s jaw slacked, and he stepped back, as Malachi and I recoiled in unison. “Are you saying you absorb others’ powers?” I breathe, awed and slightly unnerved.

Poppy crosses her arms over her chest, the blanket falling from her shoulders, and I see she’s still shaking. A part of me wants to put my arms around her and stop her from trembling, but of course, I don’t dare.

“We need to put her back in the underground cells,” Malachi mutters, putting space between himself and her now, a steely eye firmly on her. “She’s dangerous.”

“No,” I counter slowly.

“What the hell do you mean, no?”

“We can’t let her out of our sight,” I reply, my own gaze fixed on her for a reaction.

She’s so pale, I’m sure she’s going to faint.

“We’ll have a guard watch her day and night,” Warrick agrees. “But until we figure out what she is, we can’t let her go.”

“I’m right here!” Poppy barks out. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

I’m vaguely amused by her fire, but Malachi isn’t. “Mind your tone,” he spits. “You forget whose company you’re in.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she mutters, her eyes narrowing. “I know exactly what kind of company I’m in.”

Curious by her animosity, I turn back to her, sliding back onto the table to peer at her. “Did you come to confront us?” I ask, trying to put the pieces of her arrival together. “You appear to have a problem with us.”

She snorts again, but tears of panic fill her eyes. “You could say that,” she growls.

“Well, sweetie, here’s your big opportunity,” Malachi laughs sardonically. “Why don’t you get out all your grievances before we decide what we’re going to do with you, hm?”

Warrick says nothing, but we wait with bated breath for Poppy to speak.

“Well?!” Malachi thunders, flying toward her again. “Are you going to spit it out or?—”

“You murdered my father!”

Startled, we look at one another, the revelation not earth-shattering in itself. Poppy would not be the first shifter to come seeking revenge for some perceived slight. Unfortunately, none of us have any idea who her father is.

“And who might that be?” Warrick asks, letting out an annoyed sigh as he drops into a chair. His expression carries a hint of disappointment, as though he’d expected Poppy to deliver a far more shocking revelation.

“I…” she draws in a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

This time, the silence between us is longer until Malachi releases a laugh of contempt.

“She’s fucking crazy,” he determines, throwing up his hands and pivoting away. “Throw her back in the cells until we can figure out what to do with her.”

“It’s true!” Poppy yells, standing shakily. “You killed him! I’ve seen it in my dreams!”

My brow furrows as I watch her impassioned face. “I was twelve, and he was in the mountain woods!”

I stare at her, the certainty bothering me.

She believes everything she’s saying—even if it does sound crazy.

“But you don’t know his name?” Malachi interjects. “Your own father.”

Her chin quivers as she looks desperately between Warrick and me. “I didn’t remember for a decade. I was found roaming in the woods without any memories of my life before…”

“And then you woke up one day, able to shift into random animals. And you just so happened to remember suddenly that the Bloodstone Alphas murdered the father whose name you don’t know. Sounds legit,” Malachi concludes. “Well, this has been fun. I’m taking her back now. She totally ruined the full moon party.”

He reaches for her, but I stop him.

“Put her in a guest suite,” I tell him.

Malachi halts in his tracks, shaking his head vehemently. “No fucking way! Didn’t you hear her? She’s out of her mind.”

“I did. She needs proper attention and care,” Warrick intercedes before I can respond. “Take her to the guest suite in the west wing, and be careful not to touch her.”

Glowering, Malachi shoots Warrick and me death gazes, but he’s again outnumbered by our votes. Glowering at us both, our youngest brother spins around to gather Poppy.

“Let’s go, Lost One,” he jeers sarcastically. “It looks like your little tale won over my brothers.”

“It’s not a tale,” Poppy mumbles. She shoots me a grateful look before shuffling after him.

“Wait a second,” I call out to her before Malachi can show her to the third floor.

Hesitantly, she looks back at me.

“You said you were found wandering in the woods all those years ago?”

She nods, visibly swallowing.

“Who found you?”

Her eyes pop, and her mouth becomes a fine line.

My eyebrow arches as I wait for an answer. “Well?”

“What difference does that make?”

My eyes narrow slightly. “We need answers, Poppy, if you expect us to let you live.”

She inhales deeply, my words affecting her. “A witch. She adopted me and took me in as her own kid, but she knew I wasn’t a witch.”

“What’s her name?” Warrick demands.

“Why?”

“She should be able to verify your story, shouldn’t she?”

She clamps her mouth firmly and shakes her head. “She’s not a part of this,” she whispers. “You don’t have to believe me, but I’m not telling you her name.”

Malachi smirks. “Yeah, this all sounds really legit. I’m glad you two are buying all of it.”

He glares at me and Warrick.

“Take her upstairs,” Warrick grunts.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Malachi growls.

Warrick and I watch them leave, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as Malachi mutters furiously under his breath. He’s more annoyed than I’ve seen him in a long time.

“Should I go with them?” I offer.

“No. Malachi might intimidate her into saying something else—and she won’t touch him if she’s smart. He’s too pissed off to realize he’s attracted to her beneath all his anger right now.”

I give my brother a sidelong look, impressed by his astuteness.

He returns my look. “It’s better for both of us if Malachi takes her. But you’re right—she needs to stay in the estate. The underground cells are no place for her. Tavric took a really special interest in her, didn’t he? What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” I answer honestly, sinking back onto one of the chairs. “Do you know who her father is, Warrick?”

“No idea,” he answers, and I believe him. “Where were we ten years ago, though? We’d just taken over the pack. There was so much happening with the rebels.”

I still shudder at the memory of the prisoners in the underground cells during those early days. Chaos erupted after our parents died, leaving us to pick up the shattered pieces. At sixteen, I was just a kid grieving the loss of my mother and all three of my fathers, while the immense weight of the Apex Alphas' responsibilities came crashing down on me and my brothers.

“You’re assuming she really is telling the truth,” Warrick adds. “For all we know, this could be about something else entirely.”

“She’s telling the truth,” I tell him.

He eyes me speculatively. “She thinks she’s telling the truth,” Warrick corrects me. “She admitted that she doesn’t know the reality. Did you hear what she said about dreaming it? We need to find out where she’s been these past ten years and figure it out from there.”

Sitting forward, I tip my head to the side. “Did you see the birthmark behind her ear?”

He shakes his head. “Is that why you stopped me from going after her at the bonfire? Is that what you were looking at?”

I nod. “I swear I’ve seen it before.”

Warrick rubs his verdant eyes, his thumb resting over the prominent scar over his left eyebrow. A flash of regret shoots through me as he touches it, but I remind myself that we had narrowly avoided disaster with that, too.

“It’s been a long night,” he grumbles. “Let’s forget about this for now and get some rest.”

“Fine,” I agree, but I know I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, and I doubt he will either, despite what he just said. Not while Poppy’s energy keeps calling out to me from under the same roof.