Irina’s POV
I froze. The sudden, calm voice cutting through the suffocating, heavy tension was so unexpected that for a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. My heart, which had been hamring against my ribs like a trapped bird, skipped a rhythm.
I turned my head, my neck stiff and aching, and saw him standing at the edge of the stone pathway.
Asher.
He stood there under the flickering light of a distant garden lamp, his face etched with confusion and sudden, sharp concern. He looked entirely out of place in this cold, dark corner of the estate, dressed in his plain, crumpled work clothes. He didn’t belong in this world of mafia kings and suffocating alpha auras.
He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even look at Nicholas—the man who could snap his neck without a second thought. Asher sprinted across the gap, his boots thudding rapidly against the pavent. He reached us in seconds, his eyes darting frantically between my pale, tear-streaked face and the hulking, shadow-shrouded figure towering over .
"Irina?" Asher’s voice was breathless.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He moved with a protective instinct that made my chest ache. He stepped directly between and Nicholas, his body tense. He reached out, his hands firm and gentle, and pulled away from the crushing gravity of the Mad King’s presence.
I stumbled, my legs failing , and Asher caught , steadying against his side. The contact was jarring. It was human. It was safe. It wasn’t the volatile, electric fire of the mate bond, and for that, I was eternally grateful.
"I was walking ho," Asher explained, his gaze locked on my face, his voice low and steady. "I heard shouting. I thought soone was in trouble, so I ca to check. I didn’t know it was you."
He turned his head then, finally confronting the monster. He straightened his shoulders, trying to look taller than he was, though I could see the subtle tremble in his hands.
"Hey," Asher said, his voice sharpening as he looked at Nicholas. "What are you doing to her? Back off. She’s my friend."
My breath hitched. My entire body went cold.
*Friend.* The word felt like a death sentence hanging in the freezing autumn air.
Nicholas didn’t react with words. He didn’t even blink. He simply stood there, a towering wall of darkness, his pitch-black eyes fixed on Asher with a predatory detachnt that made my stomach churn. The silence that followed was absolute, heavy, and lethal. The air in the courtyard began to vibrate with the sheer, crushing weight of Nicholas’s unhinged fury.
Then, it happened in a blur.
Nicholas didn’t roar. He didn’t draw a weapon. He simply stepped forward. It was a fluid, predatory movent—too fast for a human eye to track. He reached out one hand, his fingers curling into the fabric of Asher’s work shirt, and shoved.
It wasn’t a punch. It was just a push.
But coming from a werewolf alpha, it was like being hit by a freight train.
Asher flew backward. He hit the stone pavent with a sickening, jarring thud, his feet sliding across the wet concrete until he ca to a stop in a heap, gasping for air. He looked completely dazed, his face pale and contorted in pain as he struggled to push himself up, his limbs shaky and uncoordinated.
"Asher!" I scread, the sound tearing from my throat.
I tried to lunge toward him, but Nicholas’s hand shot out, grabbing my upper arm and yanking back against his rock-hard chest. His grip was absolute, an anchor of burning heat that pinned in place.
Nicholas lood over the fallen human. His head was tilted slightly, his eyes glowing with that terrifying, unnatural void that ant he was fully lost to his wolf. He looked down at Asher like he was a bug he could crush into the dirt without a single thought.
"A friend?" Nicholas’s voice was a low, guttural growl that vibrated deep in my chest.
He took another step toward Asher. I could see the muscles in his thighs coil, ready to spring, ready to end a human life as easily as breathing. The cruelty radiating off him was thick, suffocating, and absolute.
"Nicholas, no!" I sobbed, clawing at his arm.
I knew what he was. I knew what a werewolf alpha did to humans who dared to stand in their way. He would kill him. He would snap Asher’s neck just for the insult of touching , and the world wouldn’t even blink. The blood would stain these stones, and it would be my fault. My stupidity. My hope.
Asher was coughing, pushing himself up on one elbow, his eyes wide and terrified, but still filled with a stubborn, reckless spark of defiance. He was trying to stand up again. He was going to get himself killed.
"Asher, stop!" I shrieked, my voice cracking under the weight of the terror.
Nicholas looked down, his lips curling into a dark, jagged snarl. He raised his heavy boot, his gaze cold and utterly detached from any human morality. He was going to stomp him. He was going to destroy him.
My vision blurred with hot, blinding tears. My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I couldn’t hear anything but the rhythmic, terrifying thumping in my ears. I looked at Asher, frail and human, and then at Nicholas, a monster carved out of pure, unbridled destruction.
I couldn’t let him die. I couldn’t let another person be erased from the world because of .
The weight of the choice crushed , but the decision was already made in the deepest part of my soul. I reached out, my trembling hands flying to my mouth, and I unleashed everything I had left in .
"Stop!" I scread, the sound echoing off the high stone walls of the manor, cutting through the freezing wind. "I’ll go with you! I’ll go back with you!"
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