Chapter 48 Undercurrent

Asher paced the dimly lit office, the weight of the night's events heavy on his shoulders. The door swung open with a creak, and Captain Bolard stormed in, his expression thunderous.

"Captain," Asher greeted, sensing the palpable tension in the air.

Bolard's jaw was tight, his fists clenched. "You have no idea what I'm dealing with, Asher. Winchester Solutions is a goddamn fortress. The church refuses to act without proof. Every time I try to push forward, they pull back harder. Political influence, financial power—it's all stacked against us."

Asher furrowed his brow, noting the captain's rare display of frustration. "What happened?"

"They're playing their games, threatening everyone who uses their products It's disgusting," Bolard replied, pacing the room like a caged lion. "The higher-ups are scared, and I can't blame them. We're in a tight spot."

Asher remained silent, allowing Bolard to vent. He felt the tension mounting in the room, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

After a moment, Bolard paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to relieve some of the stress. "Look, we can't let them intimidate us. But…" He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the floor. "Maybe you should consider taking a step back for a bit. Get some rest. Spend some time away from the firm."

Asher narrowed his eyes, sensing the implication. "What do you mean?"

Bolard met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes revealing a hidden truth. "Take care of loose ends. You know what I'm getting at."

The captain's words hung in the air, laden with unspoken permission. Asher's heart raced at the thought, a mix of dread and excitement coursing through him. It was as if Bolard were handing him the keys to a darker path, one that could lead to more bloodshed but also justice.

"Sir, I can't just—"

"Stop right there. I don't want to know about what you do or don't do on your day off," Bolard interrupted, raising a hand.

Asher felt the gravity of Bolard's words sink in, understanding the captain's desperation. This was a chance to strike back at the forces that had plagued them for too long. The lines between right and wrong blurred, and he felt the pull of duty calling him into the shadows.

"Just remember, Asher," Bolard added, his voice steadying. "Whatever you do, make sure it counts."

With that, Bolard turned and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The silence that followed felt deafening, and Asher stood alone, his thoughts racing. The world outside was dark and dangerous, but he was more than ready to dive headfirst into that abyss.

Reflecting on his last encounter, memories of the former emissary Torrell flashed through his mind—the pain, the terror, the inhuman face that had almost consumed him. Just the thought tightened his heart, reminding him of how close he had come to losing everything.

He could feel the weight of the past pressing against him, reminding him of the horrors he had faced. But now, he had a chance to fight back, to reclaim some semblance of control. Perhaps it was time to embrace the darkness within him, to let it fuel his resolve.

Asher squared his shoulders, determination hardening his expression. The loose ends were calling, and he was ready to tie them up—no matter the cost.

---

Asher stepped through his front door, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on his mind. He had expected to find solitude, but to his surprise, the door swung open easily.

The inviting aroma of roasted meat and vegetables wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within him. He stepped inside, feeling the familiar warmth of his home.

"Renee?" he called, curiosity mingling with confusion.

From the kitchen, he heard her cheerful voice. "In here! I thought you'd never get back! Did you get lost in your own brooding again?"

Asher rounded the corner to find her stirring a bubbling pot, a bright apron tied around her waist that read Kiss the Cook. "How did you get in here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? I never left," she replied, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk. "I've been waiting here, wondering how long it would take for you to notice I'm basically your live-in chef now."

Asher couldn't help but chuckle. "You mean to tell me you've been here all along?"

"Of course! I thought I'd surprise you with dinner," she said, dramatically stirring the pot as if it were a cauldron brewing magic. "You look like you could use a good meal—maybe even a nap. Or at least a change of clothes. Did you wrestle a tiger on your way home?"

The aroma enveloped him, momentarily distracting him from the weight of the evening. "I appreciate it, but I wasn't expecting company."

Renee turned to face him, her expression softening, yet mischief danced in her eyes. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to walk in looking like you just lost a fight. What's going on? Did you get caught up in another mystery? Or is it just the usual Asher Broodfest?"

He laughed, the warmth of her presence a balm to his troubled mind. "I'm... managing," he said, hesitating as he weighed his emotions.

"Managing, huh?" She placed the ladle down and crossed her arms, feigning a serious look. "You don't have to pretend with me. You can let the cape down—what's really going on? Did the voices start talking back?"

Asher sighed, torn between sharing his struggles and wanting to shield her from the darkness closing in. The evening's events replayed in his mind, the conflict of duty and morality colliding with his desire to protect her.

"Things have been... complicated lately," he admitted, his voice quieter. "But it's nothing to worry about right now."

Renee stepped closer, her expression unwavering, though her eyes sparkled with concern. "Asher, you don't have to face it alone. You know I'm here for you, right? Even if it means hearing about your existential crises over dinner. I promise not to roll my eyes... much."

Asher looked into her eyes, searching for solace in the depths of her sincerity. In that moment, he felt the tension ease ever so slightly. "I know," he replied, a smile creeping onto his face. "You make it hard to brood in peace."

"Good! Now sit down and let me take care of you for a change. And maybe next time, I'll bring popcorn for the Asher and Renee Theater of Gloom." She gestured to the small dining table, a playful smile breaking through his internal storm.

With a reluctant nod, Asher sank into a chair, grateful for the comfort of home, even if just for a moment.