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Chapter 45
Last Updated:
2025-09-01 23:46:21
Latest chapter
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 46
Aria's Point of View Cole leans back in his chair, tapping his pencil lightly against the desk as the rest of the students shuffle into place. He angles his body towards me just a little, his grin is easy, unforced. “So,” he says, keeping his voice low so it does not carry in the rising chatter of the hall, “how is the morning treating you so far? Ready for a day of staring at old maps and listening to stories about wars?” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I do not mind history. At least it is not math.” That earns a chuckle from him. “Fair enough. I will admit, I usually end up tuning out halfway through. But since you were my partner for training yesterday, maybe I will actually stay awake. I cannot have you outdoing me in everything.” I raise an eyebrow, amused. “Outdoing you? I already did yesterday.” His grin widens. “That is debatable. I was going easy on you.” I roll my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips betrays me. “Sure you were.” The sound of the
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 45
Aria's Point of View The sunlight spills in between the blinds, warm against my face as I blink awake. A new day. My chest feels lighter this morning, the kind of calm I have not had in a long time. No Griffen lurking around every corner, no reminders yesterday of what I am trying to forget. Just classes and the steady rhythm of something normal. I stretch beneath the covers before throwing them back and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Training is not until this afternoon, so I do not need to wrestle with tights and sports bras just yet. Instead, I pull open the drawer where I tucked away the few “nicer” clothes I packed. My fingers settle on a soft, flowy skirt, floor length and light enough to move in. I pair it with a fitted shirt that makes me feel a little more put together, like someone who belongs here. I fold the outfit over my arm and glance at Maren’s still empty bed. She must have already gone ahead. The dorm is quiet, the faint hum of voices floating from
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 44
Griffen's Point of View My opponent lunges forward, a fist aimed at my ribs. I block on instinct, but my timing is sloppy. The strike glances off my side harder than it should, a dull ache spreading across my skin. I grit my teeth and reset my stance, but my eyes betray me. Across the mats, Aria is sparring with some guy... Cole, I think his name is. She is light on her feet, sharp, every movement precise. I catch the way her braid swings behind her, the focus etched on her face, the flash of pride when the instructor corrects her and she nails the block perfectly. “Focus, Griffen,” Nick, my partner snaps, irritation in his voice. He throws another jab, and this time I barely dodge it, stumbling back a step. “Yeah,” I mutter, forcing myself to square up again. But it is useless. My gaze slides back to her almost immediately, like there is some invisible tether I cannot cut. She laughs at something Cole says, the sound carrying across the training floor, and my chest tightens
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 43
Aria's Point of ViewI wake with a small smile, sunlight spilling in through the blinds and I hear the faint hum of students already moving about outside. My heart thumps with a restless kind of energy. Today is the first day of classes and training. The first step into this new chapter that I have been craving. For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the excitement settle in my chest. This is exactly what I need, a clean slate.Throwing back the covers, I grab my training clothes from the dresser and slip into the adjoining bathroom. The tiles are cool beneath my bare feet, the mirror fogged slightly from Maren’s earlier shower. I change quickly, pulling on a pair of dark tights and a sports bra, tying my hair back into a tight ponytail. My reflection looks sharper somehow, more determined than yesterday, though the faint ache in my chest reminds me of everything that I have left behind.When I step back into the room, Maren is already dressed, her chestnut
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 42
Griffen's Point of ViewThe second I catch sight of her just outside the cafeteria, my chest tightens like a vice. Aria. Standing there with Alaric, her hair catching the light in that way that used to make me forget how to breathe.I had not expected to see her here. Not now. Not like this.For a heartbeat, I freeze, my legs rooted to the ground while every part of me screams at me to go to her. To close the distance, to beg her to listen, to tell her I did not mean any of the things that I said. That I only pushed her away because I had no other choice. That all I wanted was to protect her.But then reality slams into me. Maddox’s voice echoes in my head, sharp and cold, reminding me of what is at stake if anyone, if he, ever learns the truth. If he finds out she is mine, she is as good as dead.So I force myself to move, to turn away from her like she means nothing to me. Each step feels heavier than the last, my shoulders stiff with the effort it takes not to look back. I tell mys
The Lycan King's Werewolf Daughter Chapter 41
Aria's Point of View By the time the last sweater is folded into the dresser and my toiletries are lined neatly on the bathroom shelf, the room looks transformed. My side no longer feels bare and foreign, it looks lived in, like it belongs to me. Maren flops back onto her bed with a satisfied sigh, her chestnut hair now loose and fanning across the pillow. I follow her lead, stretching out on my own bed, the mattress still firm but already more welcoming than I expected. We talk easily, our voices filling the quiet space. She tells me about some of her instructors, about how one of them is so strict you cannot even blink wrong without being called out. I laugh, and in turn I share a little about growing up with Leo always trying to play the protective big brother. It feels nice, simple, like the weight pressing on my chest has lifted, if only a little. The knock on the door breaks through the calm, steady rhythm of our conversation. Before I can sit up, the door swings open and
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