Asher knew that leaving the Pack house was a bad idea, but Caspian being upset with him was debilitating in a way he never wanted to experience again.
Caspian had looked genuinely hurt when he had asked that, and as the dumb ass he was, he doubled down.
Now, instead of going after his mate for a proper confrontation like a sane person, he was driving off after crushing his phone under his tires.
He was following his impulses again, and they rarely ever led him to anything good.
So, he wasn’t entirely surprised when his impromptu journey led him to a nearby bar.
He was completely chock full of bad ideas tonight, wasn’t he?
But this just wasn’t about upsetting his mate, although that had been the trigger to tip him over.
He still had a lot he needed to work through and was too scared to address it, much more try and fix it.
Asher told himself that he would get himself a single drink, and then come back to the car.
Going on a night drive was a far better option than a bar, but if he really wanted to go on a drive, he wouldn’t have stopped at a bar.
So, half an hour later, he was still in there, knocking back shots.
Fortunately, the bar was mostly empty. Maybe it was because it was a weekday in a small homely town, or maybe he had managed to find a nook in the corner establishment.
Either way, it was just him and the bartender at the small dim bar, the tatted-up bartender smoking a cigarette as he served up shots.
"You look like you had a rough night," The bartender broke their tense silence a while into Asher drinking.
The bartender had recognized him instantly and wisely said little, wary of crossing the wrong person.
But when the Mafia King who had swept into his sleepy bar like a force of nature kept putting away shots of neat whiskey, he felt inclined to strike up a conversation.
The worst that would happen was that he would get ignored, or the crime mogul would walk right out.
But none of that happened, instead, Mafia King Asher shot him a look, his eyes dim.
"What gave it away?" He asked dryly, emptying another shot glass.
The bartender shrugged with his cigarette between his lips, deftly serving up another shot of whiskey.
The bottle he poured from had gone past half now, and the Mafia King didn’t look close to tapping out.
"I took a wild guess," He drawled, a ring cloud of smoke dissipating in front of his tatted face.
"Do you stay at the Pack house?" Asher asked instead, not trusting his alcohol-loosened lips not to betray him.
The bartender chuckled at that, the sound dry and mirthless. "You think they’d accept my kind in there?"
As he spoke, he cleaned up cups, wiping down the counter with a clean rag. "I’m too much of a deviant for the perfect little families that makes up the Pack house."
Asher didn’t know that, he thought that Pack house were crazy for not accepting Caspian completely just because his dad wasn’t a part of the Pack.
But learning that they ostracized even the people with history in the town was mind-boggling.
"So you grew up there?" He asked curiously.
"Yeah," The bartender humored him. He didn’t expect a Mafia King to have this much interest in his mundane life.
He didn’t live in the Pack house but he knew everything about what went on in there.
And he could guess that Mafia King Asher was being nosy because of that.
He handed the Mafia King another shot of whiskey without him needing to ask.
"You’re curious about your mate, aren’t you?" He said unprompted.
Asher had been spacing out at that point, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol - no surprise, he had been in here for a while now.
"What do you know?" He demanded, curious but coming off confrontational because he didn’t appreciate someone else knowing more about Caspian than he did.
"What everyone knows," The bartender shrugged, going through sticks of cigarettes as quickly as Asher emptied whiskey bottles.
"They think he’s just like his mom," A puff of smoke... "Too pretty for his own good and too stubborn."
"They wanted Luna Paris, bless her soul, to mate Warren, just like they’re pushing for her son to stay mated to Noah."
A vein ticked on Asher’s head at that, it was exactly the way Tammy Reeves had thought.
She disapproved of Caspian’s existence for several reasons but she still felt justified in forcing him to mate Noah - to cleanse his outsider blood.
"They’re not wrong," The bartender gave him a quick smile, one that showed his sliver-plated teeth.
"About?" Asher snapped into focus, finding it harder and harder to stay in the room with the bartender without drifting off.
"He’s exactly like his mom, they’re not going to be able to make him do what he doesn’t want to..."
The bartender moved the bottle out of reach when Asher tried to grab it as he poured out another shot for the Alpha.
"I’ve got no clue why you’re getting shit-faced in my bar, but if Caspian is anything like his mom, he means everything he does and says."
After that shot, the bartender closed up the bottle and tucked it into the shelf behind him.
"And I should know, Paris and I grew up together," Another one of those unsettling gleaming smiles.
"The bartender waited until Asher drained his last shot to conclude. "That was the last drink. I’m closing up for the night."
"I’ll buy a bottle then," Asher shot to his feet, stoic for someone whose vision had to be doubling.
"No can do, Mafia King Asher." The bartender said tautly. "And you don’t need to worry about the tab, it’s on the house."
The bartender wiped the counter one last time, took off his apron, and came around.
Asher could probably push harder to get more drinks but he didn’t, guilt mixing with the bitter aftertaste of the alcohol.