Defy The Alpha(s)

Chapter 515: WelcHome, Asher.

The blades slowed, dust settling as Asher stepped out of the helicopter. Jeremiah moved forward immediately, bowing his head. "Alpha Asher, welcback." Asher's cold gaze swept across the compound, his steps halting when two men wheeled out a polished urn draped in the West Pack's colors. Jeremiah's words caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on it. He knew what it meant.

Asher didn't flinch. He didn't even spare it a second glance. "Status report. Now." Jeremiah blinked, his voice tight with loss. That grief sat heavy on his shoulders, and Asher hated it. Henry did not deserve honor, not even in death. But what choice did he have? This was the show they had to play. Besides, those ashes weren't Henry's. Not a single bone had been left to recover. For once, Asher was proud of his girl because Violet had burned it all to the ground, leaving nothing behind.

Jeremiah seemed to shake himself out of it. "All minor Alphas under the West Pack have gathered at the pack house, awaiting you." "And Ezra King?" Asher demanded, his tone sharp and unyielding.

His father was dead now, and the sharks were circling. Henry might have been strong but he had been a failure of a leader, and Asher wasn't deluded enough to think enemies weren't already lining up, eager to sink their claws into him.

"Ezra has arrived with his mate, Nancy. They're waiting at the house," Jeremiah confirmed.

"Good." Asher's voice gave nothing away as he strode toward the waiting jeep. He climbed inside, while the second vehicle carried the urn, a siren blaring to announce to the pack that their Alpha's body had returned home.

"Tell them to shut it," Asher growled through clenched teeth. "He doesn't deserve it." Jeremiah froze. "What?" But he caught himself quickly, studying Asher's face. Years at his Alpha's side told him this wasn't a whim. Something was off.

So without a word, Jeremiah stepped out and signaled the other driver. Moments later, the siren cut off, the silence almost deafening.

Asher let out a slow breath, his chest easing for the first tsince stepping foot in the West Pack, the place of his demons. Jeremiah returned to his side, saying nothing and his fists unclenched as the jeep drove off.

However, this wasn't the tfor emotions. He was stepping onto a battlefield and his only goal was survival. He had his girl to live for now, and Henry's mistakes would not drag him down.

"I take it you have the list of Alphas documented," Asher said. "I want to see it." "Of course, I do," Jeremiah replied, reaching for his tablet and handing it over.

Asher scanned it without hesitation. He was thorough in everything, and Jeremiah was prepared to serve him with the sprecision.

Asher glanced at the list briefly before handing it back. "Draw out the names of Alphas loyal to Beta Dominic," he instructed. His voice was steady, but his eyes held that cold edge Jeremiah knew well. In Asher's opinion, it was always closest and trusted ones, that drove the knife in deepest.

"Yes, Alpha," Jeremiah replied immediately.

"Who is in charge of the staff at home?" Asher asked next.

"That would be Luna Patricia," Jeremiah said.

"Change them all," Asher ordered. "From today, you'll be the one in charge of my food and drink. Everything gets tested. Every bite, and every cup I would take until Henry's burial is over and I take full control of the West Pack." Jeremiah gave a firm nod, already putting the note down.

"Also," Asher continued, "look into the fathers of the West Pack members who were loyal toat Lunaris Academy. Check them out carefully and list anyone you feel can be trusted." "As you wish, Alpha Asher." Only then did Asher lean back into his seat, his gaze drifting to the window as the car rolled on. The streets were heavy with mourning. Shops were shuttered, schools closed, and every institution dark in respect for the dead Alpha.

Everywhere he looked, Henry's face stared back at him on banners, on drawings pinned to walls, on flags waving from the homes of pack members. Even in death, his father's shadow smothered the West Pack.

The car had not gone far before people began stepping out of their houses. It was customary to mourn an Alpha, and so the procession was forced to slow as the crowd grew. Women in black wept openly, wiping their tears with black handkerchiefs, the West house's chosen color. Men lifted Henry's portraits high and chanted his name, their voices heavy with reverence, while black flags rippled from windows. Asher's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He let the car crawl forward through the streets of mourning, the silence between him and Jeremiah heavier than the chants outside.

To the people lining the streets, Alpha Henry had been a hero. For all his cruelty, he had given them stability. He had ensured the pack wanted for nothing. In discipline and order, none rivaled the West Pack, because Henry had built it that way. On the outside, he had been the perfect Alpha, adored and respected.

But those who had been closest knew better. They had seen the devil that lived inside him, suffered his wrath, and bent beneath the weight of his control. He was a master manipulator, pulling strings and keeping everyone in their place. Now he was gone, and all he had left were enemies with smiles on their faces. And they would cfor his son. If not for power, then for satisfaction—vengeance against Henry, even if it meant carving it out of Asher. They would want him to bleed, to suffer, so Henry could watch from hell.

But Asher was ready. His father had scarred him, but he had also trained him. And now those demons Henry left behind were wide awake, and they were ready to play.

When the theatrics were over-as Asher called them—the car moved again. Soon, they entered the courtyard of the pack house. The vehicle slowed to a stop at the steps, and Asher stepped out with an unreadable expression.

"Welcback, Asher." Luna Patricia stood waiting, Beta Dominic at her side, flanked by pack members gathered to receive him. Their faces were solemn and their voices formal as they welcomed him properly.