**IVY POV**
Asher gently scooped me up and carried me back to the packhouse, his grip firm yet tender as he navigated through the bustling interior. The usual chatter and laughter faded into the background as he took me upstairs, leading me to our sanctuary.
Entering the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection—a stark reminder of the chaos I had just endured. My clothes were torn and tattered, remnants of the struggle, while mud caked my skin, transforming me into a picture of disarray. I felt utterly filthy, both inside and out.
“May I?” Asher asked softly, his voice a low rumble as he grasped the hem of my shirt, eyes searching mine for permission.
I merely nodded, and with a careful, deliberate motion, he lifted my shirt off and over my head, the cool air sending a shiver acro
