Asher’s POV

The pack house felt like it was suffocating me. Every room, every hallway, every corner smelled faintly of her lavender shampoo, that vanilla lotion she liked, the faint sweetness that used to linger on the pillow after she slept. Now it was all empty. I hadn’t slept in days. I just lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling fan going round and round, replaying every moment I could’ve chosen differently—every time I looked at her and lied, every time I let Gianna into the room, every time I told myself “just once” and then did it again anyway.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

In the morning, I...