A Gift for the Three Alpha's

Chapter Five - Mercy

Asher wiped his blade across the dead guard's tunic, cleaning away the blood with methodical precision. He did not look at the body. He was done with it.

"Come on," he said, extending his hand to Lyra. "Let us get you out of here."

Lyra stared at his outstretched hand, then at the toothbrush still lying on the wet tile floor. "I have to finish. Elena will –"

"Elena will do nothing." His voice was quiet but held the weight of absolute command. "You are not finishing this."

He did not wait for her to take his hand. Instead, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her toward the door. She could feel the warmth of him, the solid strength of his body, and every instinct screamed at her not to trust it.

The walk to her room was silent. When they arrived, Asher closed the door and locked it behind them.

"Why?" Lyra asked, her voice shaking. "Why do you keep saving me? Why do you keep standing up for your own brothers?"

Asher moved toward her, but she flinched away, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I am trying to help you," he said, his blue eyes filled with something that looked like pain.

"I do not understand your kindness. No one is kind here without wanting something in return." She backed away from him, her body tense. "Are you trying to manipulate me? Make me trust you so I will be compliant?"

"No." He moved slowly, like he was approaching a frightened animal. "I am nothing like my brothers, Lyra. I know you have no reason to believe that, but it is the truth."

He reached for her sleeve, and she winced at the movement. His expression hardened immediately.

"Let me see your back."

"It is fine –"

"Let. Me. See."

The authority in his voice left no room for argument. Slowly, Lyra turned around and pulled down the thin fabric of her dress. She heard Asher's sharp intake of breath.

The wound from Darius's lash had split open again, and blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. The skin around it was angry and swollen, infection setting in around the edges.

"How long has it been like this?" Asher demanded.

"Since this morning. Elena said I needed the training."

His entire body went rigid with fury. "She sent you to scrub toilets with an open wound? While you were bleeding?"

"I had no choice."

Asher's hands clenched into fists. He paced away from her, running his hand through his golden hair like he was trying to control himself.

"I voted against this," he said quietly. "When Darius and Kael wanted to accept you as a peace offering, I voted against it. I told them it was wrong, that no woman should be treated this way. They outvoted me."

He turned back to face her, and his expression was fierce with conviction.

"I hate these dresses they make you wear. I hate the way the commanders looked at you. I would have killed that council member for what he said if he was not important to our mission. But that does not matter anymore because I cannot watch you suffer like this."

Lyra's mind reeled. A mission? What mission did the princes have? She needed to focus on the danger they represented, on what she had overheard about the tunnels. But looking at Asher now, seeing the genuine fury and concern in his eyes, was making it hard to remember why she was here.

She moved away from him, creating distance.

"I cannot soften toward you," she whispered. "I cannot trust any of this."

He did not push her. Instead, he moved to the transparent dress hanging on the chair—the one Elena had brought her days ago. Without hesitation, he tore it to shreds, using the fabric to gently clean the wound on her back.

His touch was careful, almost reverent. He cleaned away the dried blood and pus with surprising gentleness, then wound the clean fabric around her ribs, binding the wound tight enough to protect it but not so tight that she could not breathe.

"There," he said softly. "That should help."

Before Lyra could respond, they both heard it. Elena's voice, harsh and angry, echoing through the stone corridors.

"Where is that worthless girl? I know she came this way!"

Asher's jaw clenched. He positioned himself between Lyra and the door just as Elena appeared, her face twisted with rage. But the moment she saw him standing there, her expression changed.

Her eyes went to his sword, still dark with blood. Then to Lyra, standing behind him with her dress torn open at the back. Understanding crashed over her face like a wave.

Elena dropped to her knees.

"Your Highness," she gasped, her entire body trembling. "Forgive me. I did not know – I would never have –"

Asher walked toward her slowly, and even Lyra could feel the danger radiating off him. His blue eyes had gone cold, colder than she had ever seen them.

"You sent her to that restroom knowing what would happen," he said quietly. His voice was more terrifying than any shout could have been. "You wanted her to be assaulted. You wanted her broken so badly that she would stop resisting."

"No, Your Highness, I swear –"

"You are a coward hiding behind your orders." He stopped in front of her, and Elena pressed her forehead to the ground in absolute terror. "And you failed. She is still here. She is still whole."

Elena was sobbing now, her entire body shaking with fear.

Asher looked at her for a long moment, and Lyra could see him wrestling with himself. His hand moved to his sword, and Elena flinched, clearly expecting death.

But he did not kill her. Instead, he pointed toward the door.

"You are going back to the guards' restroom," he said coldly. "You are going to finish every inch of cleaning that Lyra started. You will start from the top with your own hands and your own toothbrush. And if I find out you have harmed her again, in any way, I will make sure your death is slow and painful."

Elena scrambled to her feet and ran from the room without another word.

Asher closed the door and locked it again, then turned back to Lyra. His expression was still fierce, but when he looked at her, some of that anger faded.

"I need you to trust me," he said. "Not because I deserve it. But because I am the only one in this palace who will not hurt you."

Lyra did not respond. She could not. Because despite everything she knew about who he was, despite the plans his brothers were making, some treacherous part of her wanted to believe him.