MasukDiana’s POV
“What’s the problem, Diana?” the teacher asked, pausing at the doorway when she noticed the frozen look on my face.
I had just seen him, the boy who’d poured water on me. But... that wasn’t possible.
Maybe it was just one of my wild daydreams again. He couldn’t be here. Not here.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just nervous. I’ve never really had friends, but... I hope that changes soon.”
She smiled kindly. “Ashmoor students are well-trained. I’m sure you’ll get a warm welcome.”
I forced a smile. “If you say so.”
Just then she opened the door to the classroom. It felt even colder inside the class. The class fell silent immediately we entered.
“Good morning, Miss Victoria!” The class chimed in unison.
“Good morning, class. We have a new student.” She turned to me. “Go ahead and introduce yourself.”
I scanned the room. Neatly pressed uniforms. Perfect hair. Polished shoes, they all look rich and privileged.
But there was something superior about them. Like they knew a secret, I didn’t.
I've done this type of introduction at least fifteen times in different schools. It wasn’t that hard anymore.
I adjusted to the stiff blazer they gave me and cleared my throat, swallowed hard, forcing a smile as I introduced myself.
“Hi, I’m Diana Johnson. I just transferred here, and I hope we get alon…”
A ripple of murmurs cut me off, followed by scattered snickering.
One girl, lounging at the back of the class, whispered something to her friend loud enough for everyone to hear,
“She’s human. Can you believe they let a human in?”
Human?
My smile faltered. I blinked, trying to understand what she just said.
Everyone’s human… right?
“She smells like shampoo and fear,” the girl added with a curled lip.
The class giggled. My skin burned. I stood paralyzed at the front of the room, every second stretching like glue.
This was supposed to be a fresh start…but maybe I was cursed after all.
“Enough, Abigail!” Miss Victoria snapped. “Now, someone should help her find a seat.”
Then she left. Just like that. Abandoning me in a room full of silent judgment.
No one moved or offered me a seat.
They whispered behind their hands. A boy exaggerated a sniff of the air and said,
“No scent. Must be true.”
I blinked back tears. Was this a prank?
Then a voice spoke up, softer but clear:
“There’s an empty seat here.”
I turned toward a petite girl with deep brown skin and bright silver glasses. Guess she is a nerd like me.
Her expression was kind and cautious. I hurried over and sat down beside her, grateful for the lifeline.
“Don't mind them, they’re just territorial jerks. I’m Eva.”
“Diana,” I whispered, grateful beyond words. “Thanks.”
She grinned. “Figured. You’re the talk of the school. ‘The human transfer’...like we’re in some sci-fi movie.”
I laughed. “Isn’t everyone here human?”
Eva blinked. “You don’t… oh. Wow.”
“What?”
She hesitated. “Never mind. It’s not really my place. Let’s just say Ashmoor is…special.”
One by one, the teachers lectured, their eyes lingering on me before asking for an introduction, with a curious or suspicious gaze. The repetition was draining, each question feeling like an interrogation.
Between classes, I leaned toward Eva and whispered,
“Why do they all look at me like that? Am I… not supposed to be here?”
Eva hesitated, fiddling with her pen. “Not exactly.”
I raised an eyebrow, but before I could ask more, the bell rang. Lunchtime.
Students shot out of their seats like lightning, with loud noise and motion.
The hallway became a river of perfect, polished bodies.
I entered the cafeteria, only to be met with dagger stares. I grabbed my tray and walked out.
My appetite is gone.
I wandered along the stone path, my bag slung over one shoulder, my food in one hand.
It wasn’t just the name-calling that unsettled me, it was the looks. The way their eyes followed me. I tried to ignore the sideways looks and occasional pointed laughter.
I finally found a quiet spot under a rusted stone arch across from the football field.
The sun painted everything gold as it began to set. I picked at my cold fries, sipping juice.
“What is wrong with these people?” I muttered aloud.
“Don’t mind them,” a voice answered.
I looked up. My eyes met Eva’s.
“Thank God you’re here,” I said, relieved. She is the only one here who doesn’t want to bite my head off.
The only one who seemed to have answers.
I opened my mouth to ask, but she suddenly stiffened.
“Don’t look now,” she whispered. “He’s here.”
“Who?” I asked.
Her hand gripped mine. “the Devil's grandson. The crowned alpha. No one crosses him.”
I turned before I could stop myself.
Across the courtyard, on the edge of the field, stood a boy.
Tall…impossibly tall, maybe seven and a half feet.
Messy brown hair. Deep, piercing blue eyes. And lips that were almost too perfect, heart-shaped and striking.
No. It couldn’t be.
I blinked, hoping my mind was playing tricks both in the hallway and now,
But he was real. I wasn't mistaken.
My chest tightened. Breath caught in my throat.
The arrogant jerk from the convoy. The one who’d poured water on me and called me a freak.
The one who’d made my chest ache with confusion and fury and something else I couldn’t name.
For a second, I thought I was dreaming. But his gaze pinned me like a blade, sharp and real.
Eva stood up, suddenly pale. “I have to go. You should too, Diana.”
“Wait, what…?”
But she was gone before I could speak.
I turned back.
He just looked directly into my eyes. The weight of his stare bore into me like a silent threat or a warning.
He didn't move.
Neither did I.
He was the last person I wa
nted to see.
I told myself to look away, yet… part of me couldn’t.
Just then, what I was so afraid of happened.
He started walking.
Straight towards me.
Each step, deliberate. Like he meant it.
Like he’d already decided how this moment would end.
I wanted to run.
But I was frozen.
Damn stuck.
Sovereign’s POVThe morning opened on a knife-edge. A cold unease slid beneath my ribs before the sun had fully climbed the sky.I yanked open the shutters and let the pale light spill across shelves bowed with books, jars of crushed herbs, and relics filched from older ages. Dust motes swarmed in the beam like mocking spirits. My fingertips brushed familiar spines; leather warm with years, until they hit empty air.The leather-bound volume with its cracked spine should have been there. Instead the space gaped at me like a missing tooth.“No.” The word left me in pieces as I flipped volumes aside, pages whispering under my hands. My skin prickled; the air tasted faintly of iron and old paper. Panic was a bitter thing on my tongue, but I swallowed it. That book was not mere parchment and ink, it was the tether between mortality and the endlessness I craved. My late wife had given it to me before she died; without it, longevity was smoke, and the revenge I’d sworn for her would be stole
Diana’s POVEva flopped belly-first onto my bed; her hair fanned around her like a messy halo. I sat cross-legged at the mattress edge, fingertips warm from the blanket. For the first time in what felt like ages, laughter rolled through my room, shaking the air, shoving away the heaviness that had clung to us for weeks.“Oh, Goddess,” I wheezed between giggles, pressing my palm to my stomach until the laughter settled into a shaky smile. “You should’ve seen your face when you shoved Lucien, I thought he’d swallow his own tongue.”Eva slapped the blanket, nearly cackling. “You’re one to talk! Diana, you deserve an award for acting. Your eyes, your voice… you had Lucien so convinced he didn’t even glance at me twice. He was too busy drinking you in.”I bit my lip, grinning despite myself. The image of Lucien’s bewildered stare in the school garden flashed through my mind. “You think so? I felt like my hands were shaking the whole time.”“No, babe. You were flawless… the way you held you
Lucien’s POVThe corridors of Ashmoor Academy tasted of chalk dust and quickened breaths. The sharp tang of pencil shavings undercut by a steady hum of nerves. Sneakers squeaked against waxed linoleum, and the murmur of frantic memorization slithered through the air. Exams. Students scurried like ants toward the examination halls, clutching their notes as though their lives depended on them.Mine? My life depended on none of this.I wasn’t here to pass biology or calculus. I was here for one reason only: Diana.The so-called fragile girl with secrets stitched beneath her skin. The girl the Sovereign whispered about. The girl I had orders to shadow.Yet fate, ever the mocking jester, had pulled its cruelest trick. Because instead of a ruthless assassin for a mate, the kind of woman who would slit throats at my side and laugh with blood on her hands, the Moon Goddess had tied me to Eva.Eva.She painted her lips crimson every morning, giggled too loudly, and burned with obsession for Di
Kael’s POVA razor of antiseptic hit me the moment I pushed through the hospital’s glass doors, it was a clean, clinical air that tasted like bleach and fear. It clung to my jacket, bitter and metallic, nicking at every breath until my throat felt raw.I hated hospitals. Always had. They reeked of endings, of weakness, of time’s theft from even the strongest men.But I forced myself forward, boots striking the polished tile with sharp, deliberate echoes. Nurses glanced up, then leaned toward each other in hushed murmurs; their gossip prickled against my back, but I kept my face carved from stone. They knew who I was. Of course they did… the rich heir of the Draven family.At the corridor’s end, my father’s door stood half-open, a pale rectangle of light pouring from inside like a stage lamp. I froze, palm inches from the handle, chest tightening with grief braided with anger. Then I shoved it open.The sight hollowed me out.Draven, the mountain of a man whose voice once made enemies
Diana’s POV The earth swallowed my father in silence. The last shovel of dirt fell heavy over his coffin, muffling the sound of my heart cracking open all over again. The cold morning air pressed against my skin like shards of glass, sharp enough to remind me I was still alive when all I wanted was to sink down into that grave with him.“Stay,” my mother said, but she was already moving through the crowd, hands trembling as she smoothed her black skirt, as if anything could smooth what had been torn out of us. People murmured in low, useless tones; everything smelled faintly of lilies and damp coats, and the soldiers stood in formation to pay their last respects, their salutes cold as iron.The funeral had ended days ago, but grief clung to me like smoke after a fire. I could still hear my mother’s quiet sobs, muffled into her scarf. I could still see the pitying glances from guests who whispered about Ashmoor Academy even as they dropped flowers on my father’s coffin.I slipped away
Sergeant Johnson's POVThe call came as I finished the day’s paperwork; the thin scrape of a pen, the paper's faint starch smell still in the air.The barracks smelled of oil and gunmetal, a comfort I had known for decades: leather boots sweating, canvas and machine-oil under the fluorescents. My men’s laughter drifted from the training yard like a half-remembered radio tune, but my heart stilled when I saw the name flashing across my old phone.Sovereign.When I picked up, he asked to see me immediately, not at his house, not in his office. He wanted me on the Ashmoor rooftop.My throat went dry. That rooftop carried ghosts, whispers of blood oaths, secrets, and executions that soaked into the gravel. I wondered why Ashmoor was still called the best school in all of San Francisco, given how much blood its history held.That wasn’t my problem. My problem was this: if he’d summoned me there, he already knew.Knew I’d told Diana the truth.I rose. My knees creaked but my shoulders staye







