In a dimly lit basement, where the shadows clung to the walls and silence felt heavier than usual —

Eve and Emmett stood side by side, watching as Asher take his punishment.

Every lash cut through the air with a sharp, merciless crack before landing against his back, making it sting the worst.

The sound alone was enough to make one’s skin crawl, let alone the pain it carried.

Each single strike must have burned —deep, searing, unforgiving.

Yet Asher’s expression revealed nothing.

On his knees, his back straight despite the punishment, he simply endured —just as he had been instructed to.

No cry.

No protest.

Not even a flicker of weakness.

"It’s done," the executor finally said, lowering his arm.

But those words brought no relief to Asher.

Instead, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Two more," he said through gritted teeth. His voice was steady —but the tension in his jaw betrayed the strain beneath.

He flexed his back muscles, bracing himself.

Ready.

The executor did not question him.

With the same cold efficiency, he raised the whip again—

And delivered the final two lashes that he missed in counting.

The sound echoed through the basement once more.

This time, Asher’s body swayed. Just for a second —barely noticeable. But it was there.

He staggered as the punishment ended, his balance slipping—

And before he could fall, Emmett stepped forward and caught him.

"You sure know how to act," Emmett sneered, though there was an unmistakable edge in his voice. "Next time, don’t try to look this tough. It’s not believable at all."

His grip, however, tightened just a little —firm, supportive.

Before Asher could respond, Eve spoke up.

"Emm, bring him over first," she said, her tone composed but firm. "We can argue later."

Emmett didn’t reply. But he didn’t refuse either. Supporting Asher by his side, he helped him over to a nearby seat.

Eve was already prepared.

The moment Asher sat down, she stepped closer and began applying ointment to his back —her movements careful, practiced.

The wounds were severe.

Angry red welts stretched across his skin, some already swelling, others beginning to break.

"How did you get this?" Asher asked, eyeing the bottle of ointment in her hand before glancing at her with a sharp, knowing look.

Eve avoided his gaze.

Her expression flickered —just for a second.

"I had some left," she replied casually. "You don’t need to know every detail, do you?"

She finished applying the ointment and was about to pull her hand away—

When Asher grabbed her wrist.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked.

His grip wasn’t tight —but it was firm enough to stop her.

Eve’s brows knit in discomfort. Breaking free from him wasn’t difficult.

"Fine," she said, pulling her hand away. "Don’t believe it then. I’m not explaining it to you either."

"Eve—"

"That’s enough," Emmett cut in, clearly irritated. "Even if she did go there again, hasn’t she come back just fine?"

He shot Asher a look.

"We look up to you as our older brother. Don’t start sounding like some nagging old grandmother we never had."

"You—" Asher began, his tone sharpening—

But Emmett pouted, cutting him off again.

"You just got punished for something the three of us did together," he said. "Do you always have to act like the bigger person? We’re not weak. We could’ve shared the punishment with you."

Asher looked at him.

And then, simply—

"You couldn’t have."

That answer made Emmett frown immediately.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Why couldn’t we?"

Asher didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he let out a quiet breath before saying,

"Because what I was punished for ... wasn’t what we did together."

Silence fell.

For a second, Emmett didn’t understand.

But Eve—

Eve remained calm.

As if she had already realized it.

"Not what we did together?" Emmett repeated slowly.

Then suddenly—

It clicked.

His eyes widened as he looked between Eve and Asher.

"... It’s because you disrespected her?"

Neither of them answered.

But their silence said everything.

"No way—" Emmett scoffed, pointing vaguely toward the door as if indicating someone far beyond it. "After everything she did? She nearly destroyed Boss before —left him to die —and yet he still favors her like this? How is that even possible?"

"You’re crossing the line again. Disrespecting the lady ..." Eve said sharply, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Do you want to take those lashes too?"

Emmett pointed at her in disbelief.

"You’re seriously going to call her ’Lady’?"

Eve shrugged lightly.

"I never stopped," she said. "You two did. I always knew her position never changed—whether she was here or not."

"You—"

"Enough."

Asher’s voice cut through the tension.

Both of them fell silent.

"Her position isn’t something we get to question," he said, his tone firm despite the exhaustion evident in it. "I took the blame today. But next time ..."

His gaze shifted to Emmett.

"... I won’t."

Emmett froze.

For a moment, he couldn’t even respond.

He pointed at himself, his mouth opening slightly —but no words came out.

They had all witnessed the past.

They had all seen what had happened.

Yet now—

He was the only one still holding onto it.

Why?

Why should he be the only one?

His expression tightened.

No.

He wouldn’t be.

If they could accept it ... then so could he.

After all—

He had once been the most obedient one.

He could become that again.

She was still the same woman.

Nothing had changed.

He just had to ... accept that.

That was all.

————————————————

Meanwhile—

After leaving the study, Dylan did not return to his own room.

Instead, he walked toward Adelyn’s room.

Quietly, he pushed the door open.

A soft glow illuminated the space. It wasn’t bright —but enough. Enough for him to see her.

Adelyn lay on the bed, fast asleep.

Peaceful. Still. Unaware.

Dylan stepped inside. His movements were silent —so controlled that not even the air seemed disturbed by his presence.

He walked over to her bedside. And stopped. For a moment —he simply stood there.

Watching her.

Time passed. Seconds stretched into minutes. And yet he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t look away.

Until finally—

He reached out.

Slowly, he pulled the covers aside just enough to slip in beside her.

His movements remained careful.

Measured.

Not wanting to wake her.

Once settled beside her, he turned slightly toward her. Close enough to feel her warmth. Close enough to hear her soft breathing.

Then, leaning in—

He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips.

Soft.

Lingering.

Restrained.

As though holding back everything he truly wanted to do.

His fingers moved to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Then, in a low murmur —barely louder than a breath—

"Good night, love."