~ Asher ~
His little queen's anguish expression as she realized she had fallen into another of his carefully webbed traps was the last image Asher carried with him as he left.
He strolled down the hallway with a casual swagger, whistling that gleeful tune and moving in such a way he was almost dancing to it. It was the wee hours of the morning when everyone was fast asleep and spirits roamed the realm, and yet he walked with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Which he technically did.
There was nothing more satisfying than manipulating his victims. This was his game, his world, and everyone danced to the strings he pulled and bent to his will. But this time, the thrill was sharper, more exhilarating because Violet was no ordinary pawn. She was the queen he had chosen for himself. For them.
