Asher's Core
He held his head low as he tried to picture what just happened. Thoughts roamed through his mind, and all he wanted to do was follow her, but his legs just made a triumphant glue to the ground.
"I am a Carter," he said, eyes filled with hurt and bitterness. A question suddenly linked to his mind, a transparency so clear you could hint it from his glare.
He never thought of getting close to his father's rival—not a rival, an enemy.
His father has always had thick layers for building connections. Dangerous, rough connections, and that made his family name feared.
But the moment he met this girl—Emerald—his world wasn't so dark anymore. It wasn't about killings, winnings, and betrayal. She made a circle and piled it up with roses, making his villain name sound less melancholy.
And now? She wants to leave even before he could get to properly love her.
"Arrange the guard room," Asher said on his call. He drove with speed and a desire to let his emotions out—but the way he always does, through guns and force.
Reaching his villa, he made haste to the room.
"Master, would you like to take off your coat?" Nelly, his housekeeper, a woman in her sixties, asked. He didn't answer.
"Tell Steve to bring my gun," he ordered, as his voice was thick with rage and power.
"But master—" Nelly tried to tell him a thing.
"Now," his tone sharp as December's wind.
In a dark room, he held his gun in his hand. The room had a deadly, nude riot's aura, like it was used for his torturing of souls. Along the other side were mannequins.
"One shot." He fired, and the bullet hit straight for the head.
Another shot, and it fired to the heart, scaring the birds outside and probably his maids. Just as he was about to load again, he suspected another presence.
"Who's there?" he asked on his stance—but no one. Then a hand placed itself on his shoulder and, stimulated, Asher pointed his gun to the figure's head.
"I never thought your idea of physical touch was murder." A smirk formed on the party's face.
"Do you want to die?" Asher asked, with a relief he didn't pull the trigger.
"You're incapable of that, Asher," Jonah, Asher's best friend since his marine days, laughed a brief sigh.
"Is all this for the tech girl?" Jonah asked, trying to understand why his best friend was sent war zone—like when he lost his teammate Rowan on a mission.
"She thinks of me as though I am a villain," Asher responded, and then memories of the first time he saw her came settling in:
Glasses melted in sync, the air filled with riches, wealth, honor, and fame. Everyone looked the same—fake smiles, evidence of gnashing teeth held behind their stares. But in an attempt to escape from his reality of being one of them…
Time stopped when he saw her. He didn't know her name, but the moment she looked at him—even just for a minute—he could sense the ache hidden in her eyes. She wore a black silk dress and had straight black hair. Her curves were wonder, but so were her dark brown eyes.
He paced towards her—a connection—given an excuse to get a drink. But the lie made him see her clearly. How she covered her smile. How her head tilts nervously. How she tries to be confident in the midst of crowds, but she's carrying something in her.
With each glance he took, he was amazed. But the epiphany sank in:
"She was the daughter of the man my father loathed. The one who wished my father dead. The girl whose mother was gone because of mine."
Yet knowing this, I still yearned to get closer—like an attraction I couldn't deny. Something about her made me weary.
Asher snapped out from his daydream, Jonah looking at him with hearted eyes.
"Love… I could never relate." He smirked but continued.
"But my friend, if you truly want this woman, you must prepare—because marital week has begun and I'm sure her father is searching for a groom," Jonah told his friend.
"I never should have met her," Asher sighed.
"But you did, so it's up to you. Because by the end of this week, I'm very sure she will be engaged," Jonah said.
"Then so be it," Asher replied.
"Being stubborn will only make the heartbreak severe. But then again, I'm more worried about those mannequins."