All Chapters of Ashmoor Unseen Wolf : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Diana’s POVWhen I pushed open the front door, my mother’s cooking ghosted through the hallway; rosemary and warm broth. But the smell didn’t stand a chance against my father’s voice.“Diana, come sit. Good news. You don’t have to worry about chasing after some admissions committee like every other senior.” He stood in the doorway, oddly buoyant, as if delivering a rehearsed line. “This morning you got a call from the best university in the state. Harvard. They want you, Diana.”For a second I thought I’d misheard. Harvard. The syllables landed like a fist on my chest. The schoolbag slid from my shoulder and thudded to the floor, a small, ordinary sound. I’d never applied. We didn’t even have the money to consider it… Harvard was a word for only the rich.“What Harvard are you talking about, Dad?” My voice came out small, brittle. The polished floor under my sneakers felt slick, like ice.He repeated it, slower now, watching me with a guarded expression. “The only Harvard you know. The

Draven’s POVThe nursery was overflowing.Silk curtains barely fluttered, while shelves were drowned in stuffed toys, polished cribs, and boxes stacked like towers of ivory and gold. Maids grunted as they tried squeezing another chest into the corner, but there was no room left; the gifts had conquered every inch of floor.I watched with my arms folded; my heart swelled at the sight. A ridiculous amount. Yes… but a grandfather’s joy had no ceiling. Soon, after Kael’s wedding, Abegail would give birth, and my grandchild would arrive in a room so rich with treasures it could shame a palace.I caught the glint of a rattle made of real silver, still wrapped in velvet. I could already imagine the tiny fingers curling around it. My chest tightened with pride, with hope. For a few precious minutes, I allowed myself the dream that Kael’s line would continue bright and strong.“Bring in the rocking horse,” I barked, grinning despite myself.The maids exchanged desperate looks; there was nowher

Diana’s POVThe drive home felt endless. Headlights smeared into white streaks, slicing the night into sharp, indifferent pieces. Eva leaned against me in the backseat, her trembling fingers wrapped so tightly around mine I thought my bones might splinter.Up front, Di sat rigid beside the driver, her face strobing pale and dark under passing streetlamps, like the world couldn’t decide whether to reveal her or hide her.None of us spoke. Silence pressed down like a cloak, heavy with the unsaid, stitched with all the words we weren’t ready to let out.When the cab rolled to a stop before Eva’s house, I felt her tense against me. The engine cut, and before the driver could even thank us, the front door flew open.“Eva!”Her parents burst out like a storm. Her mother’s nightgown streamed behind her like a torn banner, her father’s face etched so deep with worry it seemed carved into him forever. They collided with their daughter in a tangle of arms, sobs, and desperate questions. Her mot

Diana’s POV Steam curled from the bathwater, soft tendrils clinging to my skin like warm breath, but my mind hummed with unease. My muscles ached with a restless tension; my chest tightened as if something dreadful prowled just beyond the walls.I had just slipped under the surface when my phone rang; sharp and urgent against the hush of the bathroom.The screen pulsed: Di.My heart stuttered in my throat.I answered, water dripping down my arm as I pressed the phone to my ear.“Run,” she whispered, voice raw and ragged, nothing like the calm, violin-playing sister I’d only just found days ago. “Diana, please. You have to run. Father knows. He knows we’ve been meeting. He’s been hitting me since morning… he’ll come for you too. Don’t let him, please. Don’t suffer what I am suffering.”Her sob shattered through the speaker like glass, high and brittle.For a moment I couldn’t breathe. Then rage surged through me, hotter than the bathwater, sharper than the steam. He separated us for y

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