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Chapter Seven

Asher’s Pov

The question hit me like a slap to the chest.

“Asher… if I told you I was hiding something that could get me expelled, would you hate me?”

For a second, I couldn't breathe. Everything inside my head went completely still. I looked at Rowan sitting there in the dark, her hands shaking, and I waited for the anger to kick in. I was an Alpha. I was the captain. People didn’t lie to me. People didn’t bring secrets into my space.

Except the anger didn't come.

Instead, a heavy, tight knot pulled together right behind my ribs. My wolf scratched frantically at the back of my mind, demanding I fix whatever was making her look so terrified.

I didn't move away. I shifted closer, my knees nearly touching hers on the edge of the sofa.

"I can't promise I'll agree with whatever you're hiding," I said, my voice dropping lower than I intended. "And I can't promise it won't be a mess. But I won't hate you. And I'll listen before I judge."

Rowan stared at me, her eyes wide and glassy in the moonlight. For a second, I thought she was going to say it. I thought she was finally going to tell me whatever was tearing her apart inside. Her lips parted, and she drew in a sharp breath.

Then she pulled back. The fragile moment shattered into a million pieces.

She forced a tight, brittle laugh and wiped her hand quickly across her face, pretending she wasn't crying. "Listen to me. Being dramatic over nothing. I'm just stressed, Asher. That's all. The academy, the hockey team, the practices... It's just a lot."

I frowned, a cold wave of frustration hitting me. "Rowan—"

"I'm fine," she interrupted too quickly, standing up from the couch so fast she nearly tripped over the blanket. "Really. I'm just tired. I'm going to bed."

She didn't wait for me to answer. She hurried down the hallway and slipped into her room, clicking the door shut with a soft, final click.

I sat alone in the dark living room, staring at the space where she had just been. I knew she was lying. I knew it in my gut. But I couldn't force her to talk. If she wasn't ready, pushing her would only make her build those walls higher.

The next day, the contrast was impossible to ignore.

During morning practice, I watched Rowan like a hawk. Around the rest of the team, she was an entirely different person. She kept her shoulders squared and her head down, avoiding physical contact with anyone. When Mason clapped her on the back after a good drill, she flinched just a fraction of an inch before forcing a casual smile. She was guarded, tense, and constantly looking over her shoulder.

It made my chest ache in a way I hated. She was treating the whole academy like a minefield.

But when we were locked inside Suite 301 away from everyone else, the armor melted right off her.

That evening proved it beyond any doubt. I walked into the kitchen to find a cloud of smoke pouring out of the toaster oven and Rowan coughing furiously, waving a dish towel in front of her face.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.

She spun around, a smudge of black soot smeared across her left cheek. "I was trying to make dinner."

"You're trying to burn the building down."

"It was an accident! The oven has a personal vendetta against me."

She looked so genuinely offended that I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped past my lips. She heard it and froze, her eyes widening as if she couldn't believe I was actually amused.

"Give me that," I muttered, pushing past her to rescue the blackened pan of lasagna she had attempted to bake.

"Hey, I saved half of it!" she protested, stepping right into my space.

"You ruined the whole thing, Hayes."

"Fine. You're the great future Alpha. Cook us something edible then."

She leaned against the counter, watching me with a teasing, playful light in her eyes that I had never seen her show anyone else. It was soft, warm, and entirely effortless. I found myself staring at her longer than I should have, completely caught off guard by how fast my heart beat when she looked at me like that.

We ended up making a mess of the kitchen together, tossing flour around like a couple of idiots while we argued over whether pasta needed garlic or not. At one point, she laughed—a real, bright sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles—and a speck of white flour landed right on the tip of her nose.

I reached out before my brain could stop my hand, using my thumb to brush it away.

Her laughter stopped instantly.

The kitchen went dead silent. My thumb lingered against her skin for a second too long, feeling how impossibly soft she was. Her breath hitched, and she looked up at me through her eyelashes, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, electric intensity that made my wolf roar inside my chest.

Before I could do something stupid like pull her closer, my phone buzzed violently on the counter.

I jumped back as if I’d been burned, pulling my hand away and grabbing the device.

The screen flashed with a name I didn't want to see.

Father.

I stared at it for a second, feeling the warm bubble of the kitchen pop and vanish into cold air. I swiped to answer, walking toward the balcony so Rowan wouldn't hear every word.

"Asher," my father's deep, commanding voice came through the speaker. "I trust your training is going well."

"It's fine, Father."

"Good. The Nightfall Pack expects a certain standard from you. You are the future Alpha. Every move you make at Silvercrest reflects on our family."

I tightened my grip on the phone. "I know."

"Make sure you remember it. And keep your circle focused. Speaking of which, Bianca Wolfe's father mentioned you two crossed paths at the welcome gala. She is a fine young woman from a strong bloodline. An alliance with the Wolfes would serve our pack well as future Luna."

My stomach turned over. "Bianca and I are just students at the same academy, Father."

"For now," he replied smoothly. "Think about it, Asher. Duty comes before personal distractions."

The call clicked dead. I stood out on the balcony in the cold night air, fuming. My father didn't care about what I wanted, who I was, or what made sense. Everything was just a chess piece for the pack.

When I finally went back inside, the kitchen was clean, and Rowan had already retreated to her bedroom.

Hours later, the digital clock on the microwave glowed 3:14 AM.

I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing between my father's demands and the way Rowan had looked at me over the kitchen counter. I got up for a glass of water, walking quietly through the dark living room.

That was when I saw her.

Rowan had fallen asleep curled up on the couch again, her college hockey notebooks scattered across the floor beside her. A heavy stack of papers had slipped off the edge and landed near the coffee table.

Sighing quietly, I walked over to pick them up. I knelt beside the couch and gathered the papers, noticing her careful, meticulous handwriting covering every page.

As I reached to place them back on the table, a sudden breeze drifted from the cracked window, and a familiar fragrance hit my senses.

Fresh snow. Wildflowers. Vanilla after rain.

It was the same sweet, intoxicating scent I had noticed nights before. But this time, it was stronger, radiating directly from the blanket she was wrapped in.

My wolf didn't just wake up—it took complete control.

Every instinct in my body surged forward with terrifying clarity. My breathing hitched. My pulse hammered in my ears. The scent wasn't just comforting; it was a beacon, screaming a truth my mind had refused to accept until this exact second.

Betas didn't smell like this. Betas didn't affect an Alpha's core like this.

I stared down at Rowan's sleeping face, the pieces finally snapping together with brutal, undeniable force.

She wasn't a Beta.

Rowan Hayes was an Omega.