Semua Bab Ashwyck Academy for the Damned: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Silas:Lucien always had a way of ruining a good moment.Twisting it. Poisoning it with that silk-stitched cruelty of his. All teeth and charm and swaggering ego. A storm in leather boots. He’d been that way for centuries—always tearing through places, through people, like beauty was something meant to be broken open and bled dry.And he almost got to her.Almost.But not this time.Not with her.Not with Isadora.I felt it the second his hunger bloomed—wild and hot and laced with that wicked edge he barely bothered to hide. The graveyard shivered. The wind turned. The trees whispered my name like a warning, or maybe an invocation. Death stirs when something ancient threatens to take what's mine.And I am death.I came before the carved gates of this school, before Lucien wore his first tailored suit, before kingdoms fell. Time may have softened the edges of others, dulled their instincts, but not me. I remember the old language of shadows. I speak the tongue of silence. Of endings.A

Rhett:I lay at the edge of her bed—if you could call it a bed—more like a narrow slab of wood with a mattress that groaned under every breath. I'd built a makeshift nest from a tangle of borrowed blanket and pillow, all of it carrying faint scents that wrapped around me like ghosts: lavender, old ink, and something else—something sharp and soft and unmistakably her.The dorm room was quiet now. Dim. The corners swallowed in shadow. The only sound was the low hum of wind slinking through her cracked window, brushing the old panes like fingers on glass. A full moon hovered outside, pouring silver light across the worn floorboards and casting soft shadows that danced when the curtains stirred.Nights like this used to wreck me.When the moon was full and bright like this, it hurt. It pulled. It whispered in my veins and lit every nerve with wildfire, whispering things no human ear should ever hear. Run. Shift. Hunt. Destroy. It clawed at the inside of my skin like it wanted out.I used

Isadora:I woke to warmth.Not the lazy kind that settles from thick blankets or the sluggish creep of morning sun—but the kind that hums low beneath your skin. That kind of heat that sinks into your bones and clings. That pulls you from sleep like a lover’s whisper, coaxing rather than demanding.I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was.Rhett.His arms wrapped around me like they were made for it—firm, grounded, protective. One hand rested over my stomach, palm splayed like he was trying to memorize me by touch alone. His breath came steady, slow, like a lullaby pressed against the back of my neck.And my body—traitor that it was—relaxed into him.Not out of fear. Not out of survival.But something else.Something quieter. More terrifying.I didn’t flinch at the sensation of being held. Didn’t brace for the tension, for the cold snap of withdrawal that always came after affection. I didn’t tense, didn’t anticipate pain or detachment or some hidden agenda beneath the contact.

Kai:The castle never truly sleeps.Even in the dead of night, or maybe morning now, judging by the pale hint of light straining against the horizon, Ashwyck breathes. The stones sigh. The shadows twitch. Secrets coil like smoke in every hallway, and if you know where to listen, you’ll catch them whispering back.I’ve always been good at listening. Finding everyone's deepest, darkest secrets is my specialty.That’s why I was here, tucked behind a cracked column in the stairwell outside her room, leaning in the shadows like some lovesick idiot. Not that I’d ever admit to it. If anyone asked, I’d say I was just lurking for fun, waiting to jump out and scare her when she went down to breakfast. Classic Kai. Always the trickster, always the light-hearted bastard who never takes anything seriously.That was the mask I wore.But this morning, dreadful mourning, I couldn’t hold it.I didn’t even notice when my fist clenched around the edge of the stone. All I heard was the sound.The sound t

Kai:Lucian’s retreating footsteps echoed like a slow metronome in the stone corridor—steady, self-satisfied, each one a small victory he didn’t bother to hide. He never looked back. He didn’t need to. The smug set of his shoulders said everything: I won.Then I saw her.Isadora.She was a single splash of moonlight against the dark wall, head bowed, shoulders drawn in as if the weight of the entire academy rested there. Her lashes were damp, black streaks of shadow against her cheeks, and a tear caught the torchlight before it slid down her pale skin.Something sharp lodged beneath my ribs. Rage. Worry. Something darker I refused to name.“Isadora,” I said softly.She flinched like a startled bird, her eyes, those bottomless, night-drenched eyes, snapping up to mine. The hallway was quiet enough to hear the crack in her breath.I didn’t ask what Lucian had said. I didn’t need to. The taste of his malice still lingered in the air. I would deal with him later. Right now I just had to t