Asher
The room stank of smoke and old wood polish. Elias had chosen the back office of an abandoned chapel for tonight’s meeting, a place that always reeked of something unholy no matter how many candles were lit. Shadows stretched long across the cracked walls, and though the stained glass was shattered, the moonlight streaming through painted jagged shards of color over the floor.
Elias sat at the head of the oak table like a king enthroned, his posture as unyielding as stone. His cane leaned against the table, untouched, as if mocking the idea that he needed it. His eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—fixed on me the moment I stepped inside.
“Asher Cain,” Elias greeted, voice smooth as venom. “My loyal shadow returns.”
I hated the way he said that. Like I belonged to him. Like I’d cho
