Defy The Alpha(s) Chapter 447: Ashers’ Exhibit - 2

Novel: Defy The Alpha(s) Author: Glimmy Updated: Jun 08, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 447: Ashers’ Exhibit - 2 from Defy The Alpha(s), a Fantasy novel by Glimmy.

Griffin Hale towering at well over six feet, muscles bulging under frilly fabric, was dressed in the most tragically accurate French maid outfit any of them had ever seen.

Black satin and white lace clung to his broad fra, the puffed sleeves pitifully trying to contain his biceps. A tiny apron was then tied around his waist, while a frilly headband was clipped onto his buzz cut.

If that wasn’t enough, he had on thigh-high stockings that stretched over his thick calves like they were holding on for dear life, and on his feet, he wore glossy black Mary Jane shoes. How in the world did the store even have that size?

"I think I’m going to die." Alaric was practically choking on his own breath, bent over in laughter.

Roman slid off the couch in tears. "Why are your legs shinier than Violet’s? Griffin, what the hell is this?!"

Griffin stood there, his arms at his sides, and his face blank.

"I will kill you one day," he said darkly. "I swear it."

"You can’t threaten people while wearing that outfit," Roman cackled. "It cancels out the intimidation. You look like you’re about to vacuum my soul instead."

Griffin was speechless. What could he say anyway when his mate did this on purpose?

"Too late," Alaric said, using his phone to zoom in on the stockings. "You’re officially the house favorite."

"Yo, are those lace ruffles on your apron?" Roman howled, absolutely no remorse in sight.

Griffin looked down slowly, and sighed in defeat. "I hate all of you."

"Don’t say that," Alaric replied solemnly. "You clean up so well."

Asher recovered enough to add, "If I ever see a feather duster in your hand, I’m resigning from this harem."

Roman was already composing a caption in his head for his future post. "’Griffin Hale: Beloved Alpha, Dostic Goddess.’"

Violet laughed out loud this ti.

Griffin turned to her with a groan of resignation. "I’m taking this off."

"Sure, sure, go on," Violet said, then rewarded him with a brief kiss on the lips. Griffin brightened at once.

"Told you I’m the best," Roman said, relishing the fact that he was still rocking his disco outfit.

"So who’s next?" Violet turned with an evil smile.

Alaric and Asher turned to each other at once, mutual dread flashing in their eyes.

"You go first," Asher said flatly, folding his arms.

Alaric blinked. "Excuse you? No, you go."

"I’m the oldest here," Asher declared.

Alaric scoffed. "By what exactly? We were born at the sa ti or have you forgotten in that thick-skulled, conniving mind of yours?"

"Oh, I rember. I just happen to be the better cardinal alpha."

"In your dreams, Professor grumpy-ass ."

While they were still bickering like kids, Violet signaled Roman with her eyes and he caught it imdiately.

As Asher was giving a pompous speech about how he was always first at academics, training, social hierarchy, that was the mont Roman struck.

He grabbed Asher by the waist with both arms, and without warning, hoisted him clean over his shoulder like a sack of grumpy potatoes.

"What the—Roman!" Asher barked, his legs flailing behind him. "Put down, you glorified snake!"

"No can do, Your Majesty," Roman said with a grin. "Orders from our queen."

He winked at Violet, already heading for the dressing area with a very offended Alpha over his shoulder.

Roman had chosen Asher on purpose knowing Alaric would zap his ass if he has tried. Asher had been a safer choice — even though he’d have his revenge later.

Violet waved sweetly. "See you soon, Alaric."

Just like the rest of the chaotic fashion parade so far, Asher eventually erged from the dressing room, face stone-cold like he was walking into a war zone.

And honestly, he kind of looked like he was.

Because striding stiffly into the boutique, Asher Nightingale Nightshade —heir to the West pack, the most terrifying mind manipulator, puppet master of their ti—was wearing a full-blown "Superman" costu. A popular hero from the old world movies.

The skin-tight blue bodysuit cleaved to every inch of Asher’s tall fra, complete with the iconic red-and-yellow "S" emblazoned across his broad chest. A crimson cape fluttered behind him, dramatic as hell. And yes, the infamous red pants were right there, and worn proudly on the outside like the old-world hero had done.

There was a long second of stunned silence before Griffin, Roman and Alaric

whipped out their phones in unison and captured the mont without sha.

Asher didn’t even blink. "Delete it," he said flatly, already done with them.

"Not happening, brother. You had your fun, now’s our turn." Griffin declared, relishing every mont of his misery.

Alaric laughed hard. "I swear, I’m not going to survive this vacation."

But Roman was the one who truly lost it because he was on the ground. Yeah. Dramatic, much?

"Why in the moon’s hairy ass," he gasped between laughter, "did the old-world hero wear his pants on the outside? Was modesty so kind of optional setting back then?"

Asher rolled his eyes. "It was symbolic from what I watched."

"Symbolic of what?" Roman fired back. "Extre constipation?"

Alaric snorted in laughter. "I can’t breathe."

"I hate all of you," Asher muttered darkly.

"You look great!" Violet called from behind, far too gleeful for his liking. "You’re a hero."

But Asher replied darkly. "We both know I’m not. I’m the Villain, Violet."

A silence ensued.

Roman whistled. "That turned dark quite quickly."

Asher reached for the cape. "As fun as this was, I’m getting out of it."

Roman declared. "And I’m still standing. Goodbye Captain Briefs."

Asher gave him the middle finger.

Violet turned slowly, expectantly, to the last remaining "victim".