All Chapters of BludHeaven Academy : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Chapter 90: Morning After Morning arrived slowly, carrying pale light through the curtains and across the room like something hesitant to intrude. Nico woke first. For a moment, he didn’t move. Elara was still tucked against him, one arm resting lightly across his chest, her breathing soft and even. The quiet in the room felt different from the quiet of the rest of the house. Outside, the estate was already stirring. Somewhere far below, doors opened and closed. Footsteps crossed marble. The day had begun. But in here, time still belonged to them. He turned his head slightly and looked at her. Even asleep, she carried herself like she was aware of everything around her. Her hair was loose across the pillow, dark against the white linen. Her face had softened in sleep in a way he didn’t often get to see when she was awake and guarded and sharp. He thought, not for the first time, that she was devastatingly beautiful. Then she stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, gold and f

Chapter 93: WestboundThe road out of Houston stretched long and hot beneath a hard Texas sky.Nico sat in the passenger seat of Elara’s big Chevy Silverado 2500 XRT Custom, watching the city fall away behind them while the truck ate up miles with calm, unstoppable power. The cab smelled faintly of leather, sunlight, and the soft trace of Elara’s perfume. Everything about the vehicle felt like her—strong, controlled, a little intimidating, and built to carry more weight than it let on.Elara drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed but alert. The other rested near the console, close enough that Nico could reach for it whenever he wanted. The road opened ahead in pale ribbons of asphalt and heat shimmer.He leaned back and exhaled slowly. “You really do own the kind of truck that makes people move out of your way.”Elara didn’t glance at him. “Good.”He smiled. “That wasn’t a denial.”“It wasn’t meant to be.”The bond between them hummed low and steady, stronger now in travel than it

Chapter 95: Silas Slade Silas Slade made an entrance the way some men entered a room and others entered a legend. He came in from the side office behind the garage, wiping his hands on a rag, the desert light catching the sharp lines of his face as if it had been waiting for him there. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and built with the kind of quiet strength that came from years of holding a world together without needing applause for it. Nico saw the resemblance to Ravenna immediately. The same black hair, glossy even in the fading light. The same eyes. Not just the color, but the look in them—watchful, alert, harder than they appeared at first glance. And the same unmistakable sense that if you mattered to him, he would protect you with the full weight of his life. Ravenna’s father. The leader of the Iron Fang Motorcycle Club. Silas Slade. Nico straightened without meaning to. Ravenna noticed and smirked. “Relax,” she murmured. “He’s only a little terrifying.

Chapter 128: Desert NightNight settled over the Iron Fang clubhouse in layers.The heat of the day had drained out of the lot slowly, leaving behind warm pavement, cooling engines, and the dry New Mexico air that seemed to carry every sound farther than it should. Somewhere inside the main hall, men laughed over old stories. Somewhere else, a bike was being tuned in a way that sounded almost tender. The whole place felt awake even after dark, like it had a pulse of its own.Nico stood outside with Elara and Ravenna, looking out toward the desert beyond the club lights.For once, nobody was asking him to prove anything.That alone felt strange.Ravenna leaned against one of the support posts, arms folded, dark hair catching the yellow spill of the overhead lights. “You’re doing that quiet thing again.”Nico glanced at her. “It’s been a long day.”“That’s not an answer.”“It’s the only one you get.”Elara’s mouth curved faintly beside him. She looked more relaxed here than she had in

Chapter 99: Roads Back Together The morning after felt like a promise. Not the kind written in ink or ceremony—the kind landed in small, ordinary things: Ravenna making coffee strong enough to be legal evidence, Silas grunting approval at Elara’s sensible choice of boots, Rebecca slipping Nico a plate of bacon and a look that meant she’d judge him later if he didn’t finish it. Elara woke slow in the back of the Silverado, curled against the seat while the truck idled outside the clubhouse. Nico checked his phone—no new fires, no urgent threads—and let himself breathe. For once, everything pressing at the edges of his life had been reduced to road plans and the small, glorious prospect of being with the people who mattered. When they finally rolled out of Iron Fang, the desert seemed to cheer them on. The land unspooled behind them like a ribbon—familiar and honest—and every mile felt like a small reconnection: to friends, to a life that had once been held in a single place, to the