As soon as Asher stepped into the room, a palpable tension enveloped us like a thick fog. It was almost stifling. His eyes sparked with frustration, darting around as he paced back and forth—each step laden with urgency, yet he seemed caught in a whirlwind of his own thoughts, unable to find the right words.
I felt just as lost, rooted to my seat as an unwilling spectator in this unfolding drama. I had never witnessed Asher so enraged before; his usually composed demeanor had been replaced by a boiling intensity that made my pulse race. For the first time, I was thankful that his fury wasn’t directed at me.
“First of all, I want to know why you were already at the packhouse when we found out about this,” Asher demanded, his voice firm and unyielding, reverberating off the walls like a wa
