All Chapters of Ashmoor Unseen Wolf : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Draven’s POVThe council chamber was suffocating.Heat clung to my skin like a fever. The torches lining the cold stone walls spat out low, flickering flames, their glow casting shadows that danced like ghosts across the faded banners of the hall. The sharp scent of burning cedar curled through the air, mingling with the mustiness of old parchment and the staleness of too many bodies in one closed space.But it wasn’t the scent or the heat that clawed at me, it was the voices. Raspy. Arrogant. Centuries-old wolves, witches, and vampires locked in a chorus of bickering and blame. Their words were knives, scraping against my nerves, but I didn’t let them pierce me.I wasn’t listening.Not really.My eyes were on Kael.He sat at the head table, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw set like stone. His chin tilted just enough to declare defiance, the same expression he wore as a boy when I tried to discipline him. But he wasn’t that boy anymore.He was taller now. Broader. Shadows carve

Diana’s POVThe morning sun hadn’t yet pierced the mist when I stepped outside. The fog clung to the air like breath on cold glass, curling softly around my arms and making the world feel hushed, dreamlike.The chill kissed my skin, cool, crisp, exactly how I liked it. My backpack sagged lazily off one shoulder, and I tapped my phone, pretending I wasn’t waiting.But I was.I wasn’t supposed to be here, standing on this quiet street corner like some girl in a teen drama, waiting for a boy who wasn’t even mine.But I couldn’t help it.Not today. Not after what Abegail said.I’d tried to ignore the dream, the dream of her jagged teeth and her eyes, burning like twin flames in the dark. But it haunted me. She wasn’t just jealous, she was dangerous. And if what she said was true… then I was in danger too.Still, I told myself I wouldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.Not again.If telling Kelvin what she said meant shattering whatever fragile thing we had, then so be it. My safety

Sergeant Johnson’s POVThursday. My sacred day off.No barking recruits. No gunmetal sunrises slicing through a fog of sweat and discipline. No drills echoing through my bones like the ghost of war.Just me, in shorts, slippers, and sweet domestic silence.I was sprawled out on the living room floor, the tiles warm from the afternoon sun. My wife lay beside me, her head propped against a throw pillow, flipping through an old photo album with fingers that lingered like they were touching memories.I was feeding her my worst dad jokes, the kind she always pretended to hate but laughed at anyway. I pointed at a cracked, yellowed photo of me during boot camp, grinning like I hadn’t yet seen what war could do to a man.“And here,” I said, puffing out my chest, “is proof that I had hair. Not a lot, but enough to pass as a civilian.”She laughed, that warm, belly-deep kind that shook her shoulders and nearly made her spill her tea.God, I loved that sound. It made the horrors of the battlef

Kelvin’s POVI stood nose to nose with George, the air between us thick and electric. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms, the tension vibrating in my bones like a warning drumbeat.“I’ll say it once,” I said, my voice low, but sharp enough to cut steel. “Leave. Now. Or I’ll turn you into the biggest joke this bookstore has ever seen. Or have you forgotten exactly how powerful a Lycan I am?”George didn’t blink. A slow, venomous smile crept across his face like frost over glass.“I haven’t forgotten, little prince,” he murmured, each word steeped in mockery. “But when orders come from my Alpha…” He leaned in, his breath sour with smoke and coppery blood, “…I forget everything. Especially your little ego trip.”My heartbeat thumped against my ribs, cold and hard.“You don’t think I came alone, do you?” George added. “There are others outside. Pure-blooded Lycans. Warriors. One wrong move, and they’ll be in here faster than you can sniff danger.”He stepped closer

Kael’s POVThe tires crackled over the gravel like bones beneath our wheels as we rolled into the estate… my estate. Abegail’s supposed new home. If you could call this cold monument of stone and silence a home.The sprawling manor loomed ahead, its windows catching the dying light like distant, watching eyes. The wind whistled through the trees like a warning.I didn’t spare Abegail a glance. I didn’t need to. She sat beside me, fingers clamped tight around her handbag like it held something precious, hope, maybe. Foolish girl. There was no hope here. Not for her.“George,” I said coolly, stepping out of the car, my shoes sinking slightly into the gravel, the wind tugging at my coat. "I straightened the cuffs of my jacket with precise distaste. “Take her to the visitors’ apartment. Far wing.”Abegail’s head snapped toward me, her expression folding into confusion, the kind that coats your skin like a badly matched foundation. “Far wing? Does that mean it’s halfway across the estate?”