Chapter Six

Forced celibacy, a hand of nurses, two infuriating group physio sessions, and seven days later, Asher finally got the green light to leave WestCare hospital. The doctors deemed him healed and strong enough to be discharged. Not that Asher was celebrating.

The only good thing about all of this was that he was out of that disgusting, scratchy hospital gown, now changed into a bespoke black shirt and three-quarter pants. 

Why did the area around his stitches itch so much? 

He was literally tempted to claw at them to bring that immediate relief that’d be tempered by agony soon after. Because there was no way in the world he would allow anyone to restitch him again, especially after that day. Okay, he refused to rehash his humiliation with that bastard. The point still stood that Asher had to tough through the itchy sensation around his stitches, so he didn’t mess with them and risk a restitch.

He should have left by now, but the beta nurse with the chipper voice and too much eyeliner told him ‘Someone would be coming soon’ to help him out. That had been nearly forty-five minutes ago, which Asher spent its better part, glaring at the ugly blue walls like they’d personally offended him.

Fuck, he was sick of this place. He couldn’t imagine being stuck in one place for almost three weeks, seeing the same faces and barely getting sex, too. Ugh! It had his temper at an all-time high, snapping at whoever lingered too much by his side. 

But if Asher was being honest, those weren’t the only real reasons he was simmering with anger currently. He glanced at his phone for the thousandth time since he had signed his discharge papers by himself. No missed calls or messages from the driver, who is supposed to be waiting for him outside in a Mustang with the engine running. That could only mean one thing. He’s finally managed to piss off his family enough to not give a shit about him. As long as he hadn’t grown into the person his family liked, they couldn’t be bothered to give him even a bit of love. He even doubted that it was Robert’s idea for Zane to take care of him. Perhaps, compared to himself, Robert now preferred that exceptional bastard.

Well, whatever.

Asher blew air out of his mouth and leaned back, ignoring the twinge in his ribs. He would manage without his family’s help so they all could go fuck themselves. But he’d barely sat back before the door clicked open, and in came Liam.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, Alpha Asher.” he rushed out the apology, eyes wide with apprehension. Then he glanced over his shoulder and leaned down, pulling a tiny sachet from his pocket. Inside it was a single white pill. “I was trying to get this.”

Asher’s annoyance at being kept waiting instantly took a nosedive as he grabbed the sachet from Liam. When he’d instructed the Omega to bring the ‘mystical drug’ to him, he actually didn’t think Liam could pull it off. “Good job, Liam.”

Liam preened from the compliment, but he soon pouted. “I honestly don’t know why you don’t want us to report this to the board at least?”

“Use your head.” Asher cut into his words with annoyance. “Taking this to the public might bring down the entire WestCare Group. The following backlash and scandal will wreck our investors.”

Liam had the grace to look embarrassed, and he squawked. “Oh, I didn't think about it that way. Anyway… what do you plan to do with the drug?”

“I’ll handle it,” Asher replied curtly and pocketed the sachet. Then he turned to Liam with a cold look. “I’m ready to leave now. You can grab my stuff.”

The Omega nurse blinked and then hurriedly grabbed the bag containing Asher’s personal effects. Asher was already out the door, and Liam quickly tailed behind him. Together with Asher’s longer stride that was heavily supported with crutches, they moved through the hospital corridors, taking the elevator until they got to the lobby downstairs.

Asher was on his phone throughout, trying to book a ride since no one was here to pick him up. Once they exited the building, Liam rushed to stand in front of Asher, waving to get his attention. “You’re really not gonna call your family? How are you getting home?”

Asher slowly looked up from his phone with an irritable expression. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I just…” Liam started to say only to be cut clean.

“Seriously, you’re not my boyfriend.” Asher gritted, roughly pushing back his blonde curls from his face. “Stop fussing over me.

Silence passed between them as a hurt look appeared over Liam’s face, but Asher couldn’t give less fucks about it. “Just go,” He muttered, already sharing his location with his ride.

Hours later, Asher was in an exclusive club buzzing with heat and noise, neon lights dancing off sweating skin and empty shot glasses. There were tons of people on the dancing floor, gyrating against each other as they all bopped to the bass spilling from the speakers, and the scent of omega slick was thick in the air. Honestly, it was the typical Friday night chaos, but even in the middle of it, Asher felt detached, and not because of his healing injuries.

Everyone knew him to be the life of every party, but he barely spent seconds on the dance floor before retiring to the VIP lounge he’d entirely booked out for the next five hours. Right now, he was on a leather couch, crutches leaning against the glass table where he elevated his leg, while his glass was half full with whiskey he wasn’t even tasting. Around him, his crew of highborn degenerates were throwing back shots like it was a religious ritual, yelling over the music as they shouted toasts in his honor.

“To the new boss of LexiPharm under Westcare!” His friend, Eli, hollered, slamming his glass onto the marble table in front of him.

“You’re a fucking legend, Ash!” Another chimed in, leaning in to clink his drink.

Asher lifted his tumbler slowly, forcing a smirk on his face as he pretended to be flattered. But the smile didn’t even reach his eyes. He took a sip of his drink then, and the burn down his throat did nothing to thaw the chill still clawing at his insides.

Earlier that day, right after the bellboy at Asher’s apartment complex had helped him into his penthouse and left with an enthusiastic goodbye, Asher had limped in to find his grandfather standing in the center of the living room with pure irritation on his wrinkled face. “Do you enjoy humiliating this family, Asher?”

The rest of his words had been a blur of venomous scolding. How could Asher go underground racing like a criminal from a low-born family? Paparazzi threats. Shame. “You’re a West. Not some low-class thrill seeker.” Grandfather Robert had seethed at him, wagging a finger in his face. “Why can’t you be more like your brother, Zane?” 

That name. That bastard’s name. Asher’s teeth had ground so hard his molars actually hurt, and he pierced himself. 

“You have no sense of Legacy.” Robert snapped, pacing in front of the fireplace like some washed-up politician. “It’s so disappointing you can’t be like Zane. He’s a gifted surgeon and would never be caught dead living recklessly like you.”

The words had hurt Asher, and not because they were cruel but because he had expected them. To Grandfather Robert, no matter what he did, he was always going to be his useless grandson with no potential.

Shaking the memory off like a filthy coat, Asher downed the rest of the drink and ordered fresh rounds. But as he roughly set down his tumbler, he noticed something peeking out of his jeans. With a frown, he fished it out, only to see the pill Liam had handed him at the hospital. The so-called miracle his prick of a brother had stumbled into.

As music thumped through the speakers, Asher’s lip twitched, and he decided it was time to set the wheels of his plan in motion.

Fishing out his phone, Asher scrolled in search of Zane’s number and came up short. Desperate, he texted Liam for it, and the omega sent it almost immediately. 

Downing a few more shots, Asher dialed Zane’s number, and each unanswered ring stoked the fire in his gut until it finally clicked on the last possible beat.

“Dr. Zane West on the line,” came the smooth, cultured voice, and Asher almost snorted. “Who am I speaking with?”

Silence dragged between them for a minute until Asher let out a low snicker. “Your beloved brother, dickhead.” 

Without Zane even saying a word, Asher could practically feel his frost through the phone, that superior air he always had about him. It sent a shiver down Asher’s spine, but he shook it off fast, forcing a grin on his face.

Finally, Zane replied in a voice as dry as bone. “What does my beloved brother want from me?

“Come down to the Avi Club.” Asher drawled, swirling the fresh whiskey in his glass. “The guys and I are celebrating, and they think you should join the fun.”