Chapter 34: Done!

Conrad did not flinch. He remained seated in the heavy wooden chair, golden eyes steady and unimpressed, the long scar that ran from his temple to the corner of his mouth pulling slightly as he regarded Marcel. If anything, he looked faintly amused that Marcel had expected fear.

"You may be a Vampire Lord, Marcel," Conrad said, his voice calm and even, "but this is my territory. You do not simply walk into a wolf stronghold, threaten its Alpha in front of his own pack, and take whatever you decide belongs to you." His gaze dropped deliberately to Asher’s left hand, where the dark claim ring sat against pale skin. "And how exactly is he your mate with that ring on his finger? Last I checked, royal claim rings from the human kingdom are not decorative. Someone already marked him. So explain to me how you stand there claiming him when another man’s claim is still locked around his hand."

Marcel’s expression did not change, but his rage and annoyance was felt in the air around. Adrian, still standing near the far wall and rubbing the raw skin of his throat, glanced between the two of them with the wary attention of someone who had seen this kind of silence end in blood before.

Conrad leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The wood creaked under the weight. "I’m not interested in fighting you. Wars between our kinds are expensive, messy, and bad for everyone who has to live with the aftermath. I want the fortune teller. If you’re willing to be reasonable for once in your long life, I’m willing to offer something of equal value in exchange. Territory along the eastern border. Information on the rival packs that have been testing both our lands. Name a price that isn’t simply ’give me the boy and watch me walk out of here.’"

The offer hung in the air, practical and insulting in equal measure.

Before Marcel could answer, Asher’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade of its own.

"Could everyone stop talking about me like I’m a fucking chair or some item at the auction?"

The words landed hard and raw, loud enough to make one of the wolf escorts near the door shift uncomfortably.

Both Vampire Lord and Alpha turned to look at him.

Asher was still standing where the escorts had placed him, back almost touching the stone wall, clothes still stained from the road and the cell. His eyes, however, were bright with a mixture of exhaustion, fury, and the kind of stubborn, lower-district defiance that had kept him alive long before any of these powerful men had decided he was useful.

For a moment the crushing tension in the room cracked.

Conrad’s mouth curved into a genuine, almost appreciative smile. He let out a low chuckle that rolled through his chest.

"I like him," the Alpha said, glancing at Marcel with open amusement. "He’s feisty. I can see why you’re so attached. Most humans in his position would already be on their knees."

Marcel’s black eyes narrowed into something sharp enough to cut. "Keep your weird fantasies to yourself, Conrad. Asher will be leaving with us. If you want your fortune read, you will request the service politely, and you will pay for it like any other client. You do not get to kidnap people off the road because you decided they would be convenient for your war."

Conrad’s amusement faded once more. He sat back in his chair again, golden eyes moving from Marcel to Asher and back again as he considered his next move.

"A better idea, then," he said after a moment. "I’ll make him my war advisor, an official position within the pack structure. If it’s money you’re concerned about, he’ll be paid for his work — fairly, and in whatever currency or resources he prefers. He stays under my protection for the duration of the current conflicts, reads the outcomes I need when I need them, and when the wars are settled he can go wherever he likes with a full purse and no further obligations. Everyone walks away with something they want."

Marcel turned his head slowly toward Asher.

The look he gave him was not a request.

"We’re leaving," Marcel said. The words were final, and carried the absolute expectation of obedience that centuries of command had etched into his voice.

Asher stared at him.

For a second the only sound in the chamber was the distant noise of the victory gathering still continuing in the main hall. Then Asher laughed — short, incredulous, and edged with something that was half hysteria and half pure, exhausted rage.

"No."

The single word was sharper than the earlier outburst.

"I’m not leaving with anyone," Asher said, and this time his voice rose enough to fill the small room. "Not with you. Not with him. Not with the next powerful bastard who decides my gift makes me property to be claimed or traded or paid for. I’m going home. Back to the human districtst."

He took a step forward, away from the wall, away from the escorts, ignoring the way both Conrad and Marcel tensed.

"And if any of you think you’re going to keep using me, then you’re going to have to kill me first. Because I am done. I am so fucking done being the thing everyone fights over while never once asking if I want to be fought over at all."

Silence filled the chamber like water poured into a sealed container.

Adrian stopped rubbing his throat and simply stared. The two wolf escorts near the door exchanged a brief, uneasy glance. Conrad’s golden eyes studied Asher with renewed, sharpened interest, as if the human had just become more valuable rather than less by refusing every offer on the table. Marcel did not move. His gaze remained fixed on Asher, and for the first time since he had walked into the stronghold something complicated and almost uncertain flickered behind the usual cold, absolute control.

Asher stood in the center of that silence, bruised face set, breathing hard, but his will set like stone. He was done playing these games, and he didn’t care anymore. Anyone who wanted his gift would ask him first! And if anyone thought they could control him, then they were in for a rude awakening.