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The Culprit

(Asher’s P.O.V)

Fuck.

Tonight was one clusterfuck of disaster after disaster and out of all the things that had gone wrong—being drugged, the only suspect to the incident slipping away, and then postponing a crucial business deal because of said incident.

I couldn’t get the sight of that blonde-haired—if you think the silver and red strands don’t count—waitress, sorry manager, out of my mind. Clad in leather pants that hugged her perfect figure with a top that flashed those ample cleavages, manager girl was a smokeshow. But some whimsical attraction or the drugs in my system wasn’t the reason for my distress.

Seeing her was like stumbling into a burst of light after being trapped in a dark tunnel for years…startling, jarring. The most puzzling thing was my wolf’s reaction to her presence. As soon as I heard her voice and turned to see her, it felt like something that I didn’t even know was lost inside me, clicked back into place, and Omar—my wolf—fucking growled, reaching forward t
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