The blades slowed, dust settling as Asher stepped out of the helicopter. Jeremiah moved forward immediately, bowing his head. "Alpha Asher, welcome back."
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.
