~ Asher ~
District One was the slums. The lowest rung of human society. The place was a cesspool of crime, and filth, left to rot in the aftermath of the human-werewolf war.
It was the district forgotten by both the government and the werewolves, a place abandoned to the rule of gangs, corrupt enforcers, and hopeless civilians barely surviving day by day.
This was Violet’s home district.
It explained everything about her harsh upbringing, her survival instincts, the way she distrusted authority, and the fire in her eyes that made her different from the others at Lunaris Academy.
The cityscape was a mess of cracked roads, flickering streetlights, and buildings that looked like they were one storm away from collapsing. The smell of sweat, and a foul smell lingered in the air, mixing with the distant scent of smoke from burning trash.
Yet, nothing about District One scared Asher Nightshade as he strode through the streets.
Asher blended in as best as he could, his black jacket, shirt, and pants making him just another shadow among the desperate souls of this place. But his presence was still felt. People unconsciously moved out of his way, and from the way their eyes flickered toward him, only to quickly avert it, it was clear that even without knowing what he was, they could somehow sense it.
He was danger. A predator.
He had no business being here. But he came anyway.
The night business was thriving, and the streets were lined with women wearing scraps of fabric that barely passed as clothing. They leaned against crumbling brick walls, their painted lips forming smiles meant to lure men into their arms for the night.
Asher’s sharp hearing picked up the telltale sounds of grunts and moans from the dark alleyways where some had already sealed their transactions. His lip curled in disgust.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Asher knew his Purple Queen was untouched, he would have been devastated to think that any of these men could have been the one to have her.
Some of the women took notice of him, their keen eyes trailing over his tall frame, the sharp angles of his face, and his dressing. They sensed he had money on him and like vultures on a carcass, a few approached, their voices honeyed with seduction.
But all it took was one cold look to send them back to their business. Asher didn’t give them a second glance. His body belonged to one person alone. His purple queen.
And she was the reason he was here.
The next street he entered was far livelier. Merchants lined the sidewalks, shouting over each other to sell their spices, meats, questionable trinkets — and stolen items from richer districts. The air was thick with the scent of cooking food, burning incense, and sweat.
But it didn’t take long for something else to catch his attention. There was a commotion and Asher’s gaze landed on a group of thugs surrounding a small stall, their aggressive voices cutting through the market noise.
A middle-aged merchant pleaded with them, his hands shaking as he clutched a few Cede bills. "I—I swear, I haven’t made enough tonight! Just give me more time—"
One of the thugs grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him over his own table, sending a pile of dried herbs and spices crashing onto the ground.
"You think we care?" the leader sneered before slamming his fist into the man’s gut, making him wheeze in pain.
Another thug laughed as he began destroying the stall, kicking over baskets, shattering jars, and whatever little the man had.
The merchant coughed, his face twisted in agony as he gasped, "Please—!"
Asher’s hands instinctively curled into fists. He wasn’t a busybody and definitely didn’t want to involve himself in things that weren’t his problem. But as an Alpha, there were few things he despised more than watching the strong prey on the weak.
For a moment, he debated interfering. But then, this was District One. Getting involved in gang business wasn’t just dangerous. It was simply reckless. And right now, Asher had a purpose for being here. So he hardened his heart and walked away.
It wasn’t long before Asher found Rustwood Park, the sprawling patch of land that housed hundreds of trailers. It was barely livable, with cracked pavement and streetlamps casting eerie shadows. Most of the trailers were rusted, their paint peeling, and their windows covered with makeshift curtains.
Asher asked around for Violet’s trailer, but the looks he got in response told him everything. They thought he was here for Nancy’s services.
His teeth clenched.
Ignoring the judgment, he followed the directions given and soon found himself standing before a weathered white trailer.
It was pathetic. To think that his purple Queen had been forced to live here made his stomach coil with both anger and disgust.
Asher decided right at that moment Violet wouldn’t be returning here for the holidays. No. He would make sure of it.
Asher knocked but there was silence. So he used his wolf senses and was able to find out that there was no heartbeat inside. Nor movement.
Nancy wasn’t here.
Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he grabbed the door handle and forced it open, making a mental note to leave money behind for the damage.
Inside, the stench of cheap alcohol, cigarette smoke, and rotting food assaulted his nose. He scowled at the mess of empty beer cans, ash-filled trays, half-eaten meals left to rot.
What kind of fucking mother was Nancy? It was just weeks since Violet left and she couldn’t make the place livable? Who knew what had been their living condition before his little human left?
Asher walked further in, his nose picking up scents. Nancy hadn’t been here for days.
Disgust curled in his chest, but he pushed past it and stepped into the small room Violet and Nancy had clearly shared. The bed was lumpy, the blankets barely more than rags. How could someone live here?
Then, on a small nightstand, his eyes landed on a photo. It was the picture of a younger Violet sitting on a swing and scowling right at the camera as if the world provoked her.
It was cute nonetheless and without hesitation, Asher took it and slipped it into his pocket. This was going to be compensation for this little trip.
But then, a sudden sound made him freeze. He waited, listening as the door creaked open and someone came in.
Good, she was back.
Asher went after her immediately, except his eyes locked with a stranger. The man was thin, scruffy, reeking of cheap booze and sweat. His eyes widened the moment he saw Asher, his mouth opening slightly in realization.
Then he bolted.
And Asher chased after him.