Chapter 15: Only the Living Hate
831 Words
Dahlia's POV
I woke up with a sharp gasp, my fingers curled tight around the thin blanket on my bed. My head throbbed from the blow earlier, but the ache in my chest was worse.
It was deeper, and rawer. Asher’s words still echoed through me, every syllable reminding me where I stood in the world.
Weak. Wolfless. Worthless.
I didn’t know whether it was his cruelty or the truth in his voice that wounded me the most.
I pushed myself upright and dragged in a breath. The room he had given me wasn’t luxurious. It was just clean, warm, and mercifully quiet, but that only made things even more confusing.
Asher didn’t care about me. He made that clear in front of everyone. So why bother offering me a room better than the dingy corner I used to curl up in back home?
A knot twisted in my throat.
Before I could untangle my thoughts, my door clicked.
I froze at the sight before me.
Asher stepped inside without knocking.
He filled the doorway effortlessly calm, perfectly controlled, like nothing in the world could touch him. His presence pressed against my chest like a weighted hand. I scrambled to stand but my legs wobbled.
He raised a hand nonchalantly.
“Don’t bother. Sit.”
His voice wasn’t harsh… but it wasn’t gentle either. Just emotionless. Like I meant nothing more than a nuisance he had to check on.
I swallowed hard and sat back down.
Asher shut the door behind him and crossed the room. Not slowly. Not aggressively. Just… with that same quiet confidence that made every movement feel deliberate.
His eyes flicked over me. Scanning my bruised temple, the exhaustion clinging to my skin, but he said nothing about it.
He only spoke when he reached the end of my bed.
“So.” His arms folded across his chest. “You hate me.”
My stomach dropped.
My breath stuttered.
I stared at my hands. “I… I don’t—”
“Save it.” His voice cut clean through my excuse.
Heat burst across my cheeks. Shame. Anger. Embarrassment. All tangled so tightly that I couldn’t pull them apart.
“I don’t care if you do,” he added, his tone flat, almost bored. “I’m only here to confirm it.”
That stung more than it should have.
I lifted my gaze despite the tremor in my chest. “Why would you even care to confirm anything?”
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth, mocking, detached.
“Because,” he said, “I like to know when someone thinks they are brave enough to hate me.”
My heartbeat tripped. I felt small again, but I didn’t shrink. I refused to. Not this time.
“You said awful things,” I whispered. “Things you meant.”
“And?” Asher shrugged. “You wanted to be free, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t ask you for anything,” I shot back, surprising even myself with how steady my voice sounded.
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Not guilt. Not softness. Something colder, deeper, an understanding he refused to admit out loud.
He leaned in just slightly, his shadow falling over me.
“Then hear this,” he murmured. “Everything I said, everything I did… was necessary.”
Necessary.
Not kind.
Not justified.
But necessary.
My chest tightened painfully. Because he was right— I was weak. I didn’t have a wolf. And everyone at the pack used those truths as weapons against me.
The worst part was not his cruelty.
It was that he only said aloud what I had believed my whole life.
Asher straightened again, expression unreadable. “You hate me. Fine. It changes nothing.”
His gaze slid to the side, as if he was studying something far beyond me.
“But,” he added, “I’m glad you said it.”
‘I never said so,’ I argued silently.
‘Wait… did he just say he was glad?’ I thought to myself
My breath caught. “Glad?”
“It means you’re not completely hopeless.” He turned away. “Only the living hate. The broken stay silent.”
My heart stumbled at his backhanded, almost accidental compliment.
He reached the door, paused, and glanced over his shoulder. His voice dropped, softer but still chillingly calm.
“Rest. You will need your strength.”
“For what?” I asked, my pulse rising.
Asher didn’t answer.
He opened the door.
But right before he stepped out, he said something low, just loud enough for me to hear, just soft enough to haunt:
“Tomorrow will be… interesting.”
The door shut behind him.
My chest heaved as I stared at the blank wood, dread curling like smoke around my ribs.
Something was coming. I felt it in my bones.
But I didn’t know if it would break me…
…or finally push me to fight back.
- Writer
