He strolled down the hallway with a casual swagger, whistling that gleeful tune and moving in such a way he was almost dancing to it. It was the wee hours of the morning when everyone was fast asleep and spirits roamed the realm, and yet he walked with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Which he technically did.
There was nothing more satisfying than manipulating his victims. This was his game, his world, and everyone danced to the strings he pulled and bent to his will. But this time, the thrill was sharper, more exhilarating because Violet was no ordinary pawn. She was the queen he had chosen for himself. For them.
He loved sex for sure. And Sex with his queen would be explosive. But the euphoric feeling of his victory was heaven at the moment. Asher thrived in his element, relishing the sweet satisfaction of triumph. This was what pleased him most-being in absolute control, just as his father had instilled in him, just as he was trained to be.
He was the king here and no one could replace him even if they wanted to. No one spun the web better than he did. He was the best of the best. The puppet Master.
“Alpha Asher, ” Benjamin Holden, the house prefect, greeted him with reverence.
Each dormitory was traditionally overseen by a non-academic staff member, tasked with supervising the students and reporting directly to Principal Jameson. But ever since the Cardinal Alphas rose to power, that system had become more of a formality.
Since each had their own prefect, the other Cardinal Alphas also managed their houses in their own unique ways. As for him, he had already secured absolute control over Benjamin.
The man was completely a devoted servant, feeding him every scrap of information about the West House without hesitation. Betrayal wasn’t an option for Benjamin, not when he knew all too well the consequences of crossing the Alpha of the West.
“Benjamin,” Asher acknowledged, his presence.
“Do you need assistance with anything, sire?” Benjamin asked his eagerness to serve him evident in his voice.
“No,” Asher replied with a faint smirk. “Carry on with your duties. I’ve already caught the little ladybug who thought she could escape earlier.”
“What?” Benjamin asked, confused,
but he didn’t elaborate. Asher had already turned away, whistling his light tune as if the matter were of no consequence.
Had Asher relied solely on Benjamin, Violet would have long escaped the school. The girl was clever, no doubt about that, but her brilliance was always paired with a reckless streak that teetered on the edge of self-destruction.
What made her think Lunaris Academy, a fortress in its own right, relied on mere humans for security?
The school had its share of enemies lurking beyond its walls-the rogues, the anti-werewolf factions, and countless others who would leap at the opportunity to breach its defenses and capture valuable resources and students for their nefarious purposes.
Lunaris was no stranger to such attacks. Hence it thrived on constant vigilance, its security system meticulous and strong.
Each house provided werewolves to patrol the grounds on strict routines. While they couldn’t cover every inch of the sprawling campus, especially the dense woodlands, they were thorough enough to ensure safety. The students, staff, and even visitors depended on them for protection, placing their faith in the power of the Cardinal Alphas.
This unshakable faith elevated them and solidified their rule. No matter what they did, no one dared to challenge the Cardinal Alphas. Their authority was absolute, their influence unshakable. Here, they weren’t just leaders, they were gods.
The cool air clung to Asher as he stepped out of the dormitory. His sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the four werewolves prowling near the perimeter. These were the same wolves who had chased Violet back to the dormitory earlier, doing exactly what they were ordered to do.
As his presence became apparent, the wolves stopped in their tracks, their attention snapping to him. Without hesitation, they padded closer silently.
Each of them was a striking shade of brown, with unique patches on their coats that set them apart. The largest of the group, unmistakably their leader, stepped forward. His blue eyes gleamed with recognition and respect as he faced Asher.
There was no need for words. With a silent cue, the wolves began to transform. The sound of bones cracking and reshaping pierced the otherwise quiet night, skin stretching and fur receding. Yet Asher barely flinched at what looked like a painful process, already familiar with it.
In seconds, where the largest wolf had stood was replaced by a striking man with a muscular, powerful build. His curly mop of brown hair clung damply to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell with his breaths.
The man stood confidently, unbothered by his nakedness, not when it was second nature to them. Modesty had no place among werewolves.
“Well done, Jeremiah.” He complimented his beta and second in authority after him.
“It was nothing, Alpha,” Jeremiah said politely.
“Of course, it was nothing,” Asher replied, his carrying an unsettling cryptic tone. “Which is precisely why I need to make it something now.”
Jeremiah’s brows knitted together, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean by that, Alpha?”
“I want eyes on Violet,” Asher stated plainly. “There’s no guarantee she won’t attempt another escape. Select men to handle it…” He paused, his sharp gaze scanning Jeremiah with deliberate intent before adding, “Or perhaps you’d prefer to do the job yourself.”
Jeremiah stiffened, his expression hardening. “But Asher, I have far more important matters to deal with than babysitting some human-“
“It’s Alpha Asher to you,” Asher interrupted sharply. “And you will follow my orders without question.”
A low, menacing growl rumbled from deep within Jeremiah’s chest, the sound primal and filled with defiance. His body tensed, his wolf stirring just beneath the surface, ready to rise to the challenge.
Asher didn’t flinch. Instead, an even deeper, more dangerous growl emanated from him.
Werewolves were naturally aggressive and hot-blooded creatures, so clashes over power, dominance, and pride were frequent. Challenges to the Alpha’s authority, even within a tightly controlled pack, were not uncommon. These contests of will, particularly among those coveting leadership, were as expected as they were brutal.
Unlike Griffin, Roman, and Alaric, who maintained friendships or close relationships within their packs, Asher treated his members merely as soldiers-subordinates who followed orders while he provided the necessary resources for their survival and prosperity.
He believed in his father’s admonition that friends were often the first to betray you. Thus, he ruled them without seeking personal bonds, keeping them firmly in their place under his command.
In that charged moment, Asher’s Alpha presence filled the space, his authority emanating like an unstoppable force. The tension between him and his beta, Jeremiah, was palpable, their standoff teetering on the edge of violence.
The rest of the werewolves exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with the unfolding drama. They knew such confrontations rarely ended without injury, and it seemed inevitable that Jeremiah would be the one to suffer.
Asher stood tensely, every muscle coiled and ready as he addressed his challenger. “Do you really want to do this now, Jeremiah? Do you truly think you can take me on?” His voice dripped with a taunting confidence, an unspoken reminder of his unbeatable prowess.
Jeremiah’s defiance flickered in his blue eyes but quickly extinguished under Asher’s oppressive certainty. Knowing the futility of rebellion, he dropped his gaze, submitting with a bowed head.
“Thought as much,” Asher remarked smugly.
He approached Jeremiah deliberately, each step measured and imposing, until he stood directly before him. Gripping Jeremiah’s chin, Asher forced their eyes to meet, his golden gaze burning into Jeremiah’s now-subdued blue.
“When I give an order, you follow it,” Asher spoke with chilling control. “Next time you think of challenging me, be ready to see it through to the end. I don’t tolerate cowards.” His words were a mockingly gentle caress, belied by the steely undertone.
Jeremiah clenched his jaw, his initial resolve dissolving under the weight of Asher’s stare. The defiance drained from him, replaced by acquiescence. “It will never happen again, Alpha,” he murmured submissively.
“Good. For your sake,” Asher replied emotionlessly, his warning clear and ominous. “You may leave now.”
As Jeremiah and the other werewolves hastily retreated, a collective sigh of relief swept through the group. The encounter had been so fraught with tension that many had feared for Jeremiah’s life, convinced he would not survive a direct confrontation with Asher.
After his pack members had dispersed, Asher lingered outside, his posture rigid against the evening air. Minutes ticked by in silence until he broke it with a calculated coolness. “Aren’t you tired of hiding, Roman?”
From the shadowed corner of the West House, Roman emerged, a sheepish expression etched on his face as he stepped into the open.
As Roman approached, he challenged Asher’s leadership style. “You do know that’s not the way you rule your pack members?”
Asher faced him with a hardened expression, a clear indication that he knew where this conversation was headed. They had traversed this ground before, and it invariably spiraled into an argument.
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