I don’t trust this.
I don’t trust him.
Asher strides ahead of me, unhurried, and casual, like he hasn’t been keeping me captive. Like he didn’t just ruin what should’ve been a dramatic and successful escape.
His man doesn’t try to restrain me—probably because the last time I ran, it ended with me slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
“This, Violet,” Asher says, voice dripping with amusement, “is where the magic happens.”
“Oh, great,” I deadpan, hugging my arms around myself. “Should I expect doves and a top hat? Or is this more of a chainsaw-someone-in-half situation?”
He smirks but doesn’t bite. Instead, he gestures to the room’s occupants—scientists, techs, and white coats. They all look far too comfortable around him.
One of them—a wiry man with oversized glasses—looks up and grins. “Asher. You didn’t tell us we’d be getting her today.”
Her?
Before I can respond, my attention snaps to the workstation behind him.
Beakers. Data sheets. Chemical compounds.
My stomach drops.
I know thatformula.
It’s mine.
My feet move before I can stop them, fingers skimming over handwritten notes scattered across the table. Molecular structures. Ratios. Failed tests. The handwriting isn’t mine—but the work is unmistakable.
I knew I was here to perfect Zephyra. That much was clear the moment Asher decided I was more useful alive than locked away. But this?
This is different.
They’ve been trying to replicate it without me. Running trials. Brute-forcing a formula that was never meant to be theirs.
The realization cuts deeper than I expect.
This isn’t just control.
It’s theft.
A bitter laugh escapes me as I grab one of the sheets and hold it up. “Wow. So close. Just a tiny chirality flip away from actually making the real thing.” I flick the paper at Asher’s chest, watching him catch it effortlessly. “But hey—what’s an enantiomeric disaster among friends?”
Silence.
Glasses Guy clears his throat. “What do you mean?”
I exhale through my nose, deeply offended. “This.” I point at the structure on the whiteboard. “You flipped the wrong enantiomer. You turned the S version into the R version.”
Blank stares.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s what differentiates MDMA from Zephyra. You didn’t make a weaker version. You made a useless one.”
A pause.
“She’s wrong,” Glasses Guy sputters, turning to Asher.
Asher raises a brow. “You sure about that?”
