The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 111: Just Because

Chapter 111: Chapter 111: Just Because

Lorraine’s POV

I stared, stunned.

Alistair Ashthorne?

Of all the people I expected to step between me and a pack of bloodthirsty elites, his name wasn’t even a whisper in the back of my mind.

But it was him.

It was definitely him.

I would recognize that face anywhere, sharp-jawed, cold-eyed, effortlessly arrogant. His presence used to command entire rooms. Once, the elite bowed when he passed, and every word him and his sister spoke felt like a decree.

But that was before everything shattered.

Before him and his father tried to kill Kieran.

Before he kidnapped me and used me as bait in his desperate attempt to flee the academy

Before he drove a blade through his own father’s heart to save himself from the Alpha King’s wrath.

No one had truly seen or spoken to him since then.

It was like he’d disappeared into the shadows.

Until now.

But the shadows hadn’t left him. They clung to him, his eyes darker, his movements heavier as he strode closer. The gold in his gaze was dimmer somehow, but there was still fire there, burning low, waiting for something to fan it into an inferno.

The elites laughed as he stepped forward.

"You must be joking," one of them snorted. "Ashthorne, really?"

"The fallen prince returns," another mocked, smirking.

"The elites have no kings anymore," the tallest sneered. "And we sure as hell don’t kneel to someone who murdered his own father just to save his worthless skin."

I saw it, the flicker of something in Alistair’s jaw. A silent tension. But he didn’t rise to the insult.

He kept walking.

Still, the laughter didn’t stop.

"You think you scare us? You’re nothing now," one spat. "You were once elite royalty, now you’re barely a rumor. A man who couldn’t even lead. You let your sister fall. You let your house collapse. You have no honor left."

And yet.... he stopped right in front of them, just between me and the snarling mouths that wanted to tear me apart.

His golden eyes scanned each of their faces. Not with rage. Not with fear.

But with pity.

Like he’d already written their eulogies.

"I didn’t come here to prove anything to you," Alistair said quietly, voice cutting through their mockery like ice through smoke. "I came here for her."

His eyes flicked briefly toward me

He turned back to them. "And if any of you so much as lays a hand on her... you’ll be picking your teeth out of the dirt before the sun rises."

The elites stilled

Then theyy laughed.

Mocking. Arrogant. Unbothered.

Seven elites, confident in their superiority, claws gleaming beneath the moonlight.

"Alistair Ashthorne," one of them chuckled, stepping forward, "You think we’ll ever fear a traitor like you?"

"I say we just kill them both," another chimed in. "Bury them together like the pathetic rats they are."

Their claws extended, their eyes glinting gold, all circling in. I could feel the tension crackle like lightning in my spine.

I stepped forward, slowly. My own claws extended, and I looked at Alistair.

"I’ll go left," I said calmly, voice hard as steel. "You take right."

He nodded. Then we moved.

The courtyard erupted in chaos.

I met my first opponent head-on, ducking beneath his swing. He was fast... too fast. His claws slashed through Astrid’s jacket and tore into my upper arm. I winced, but didn’t scream. Blood bloomed warm and wet down my skin, but pain was nothing now. I had lived through worse.

Astrid’s voice echoed in my head:

Play dirty. Bend the game to your rules. Stay alive.

I let that pain fuel me.

When the second elite came at me, I dropped low, kicked him hard in his nuts. He grunted and doubled over, grabbing his crotch... easy target. My claws went for his throat and it sliced through it the blood sprayed all over me as he slumped to the ground. One down.

Another grabbed me from behind. I slammed my head back, catching him on the nose with a crunch, then rammed my elbow into his ribs. He staggered. I pivoted, grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it into his eyes. While he coughed and blinked, I lunged, my claws slicing through his stomach and he looked at me horrified as his insides fell out and he slumped.

Two down.

They got angrier.

A third came at me in a blur. I rolled under his attack, swiped his legs out, then climbed onto him before he could recover. My claws struck again, swift and sure. I didn’t give myself time to think. Only survive.

Three.

Another elite tried to flank me while I was breathless, knees skidding across the stones. Alistair intervened, slamming into him from the side and ripping out his throat.

The fourth elite tried to pounce. I sidestepped, then shoved a broken stone into his throat, using momentum to slam his back against a tree. I finished it quickly.

Four.

All around me, the air reeked of blood and sweat and death. Alistair was on his third, fighting with a silent fury that reminded me why the Ashthornes had once been feared. He moved like a blade, precise, deadly, focused.

And then....

It was over.

Seven bodies littered the ground.

Alistair and I stood, panting, blood trickling from open cuts, soaking our clothes and hands. The courtyard was silent again, except for the sound of our breathing, heavy, ragged, alive.

We were alive.

I looked at Alistair.

"You good?" I asked

He looked back. "Of course, that was exhilarating."

Alistair stepped over one of the motionless bodies, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

"You fight well now," he said, voice low and rough with exhaustion. "Even with a lifetime of training, no feral has ever fought like that. You’re.... different."

I stared at him, breathing hard, my arms trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to crash out of my system. Blood clung to my skin like second flesh, but his words cut through the haze like lightning.

Different.

He turned, as if that was the end of it, as if the blood on his hands and the bodies around us didn’t demand more of a conversation. He began to walk away, silent and cold again.

But I couldn’t let him go. Not without asking.

"Alistair," I called.

He stopped.

"Why did you come to help me?" I asked, taking a step forward. "You fought your own kind, your own mates, you killed elites, for me. Why?"

He didn’t turn around. For a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Just because," he shrugged

And then he walked away, into the shadows of the courtyard, like he hadn’t just saved my life. Like he hadn’t just walked through fire with me.

Just because.

I stood there, alone now, surrounded by the dead, my heart still racing in my chest.

What did that even mean?

Kieran’s POV

I was caged.

Not in body, but in something worse. My own mind.

The abyss stretched endlessly around me, a void soaked in silence and shadows. Cold iron chains bound my limbs. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was trapped in here.... while he was out there.

My wolf.

I saw everything through the tiny flicker of a window carved into this prison. I saw him take control. I saw my own hands grip Lorraine’s throat. I saw my mouth form words I didn’t believe. I saw her fall, terrified. And I could do nothing.

I had screamed. Thrashed. Torn my voice raw trying to break through the bars.

And then....

The moment her cllaws sprang from her hands, the moment her wolf rose to the surface, something cracked. My wolf.... froze. Just stood there, stunned. I felt it. Something shifted deep within. And then, he said something.... we said something, in a tongue I didn’t even recognize. A guttural, ancient growl that rattled the walls of this abyss.

That was when the chains pulsed. A tremor ran through them.

Now I lay flat on my back, staring at nothing, everything.

No. Not everything. Him.

My wolf form, larger, sharper, more monstrous than I ever imagined, lay collapsed not far from me. As if he too had been struck down. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and I knew... if I wanted to take back control, this was my moment.

I gritted my teeth and pulled.

The chains bit into my skin, each movement felt like I was slicing through my own skin, but I pulled. My muscles screamed, bones cracking beneath the strain. My blood ran down my arms, but I didn’t stop. I had to get back.

To her.

To Lorraine.

With a final roar, I snapped the chains. The cage splintered open like shattered glass, and I stumbled out into the void, breathless and shaking.

There, at the edge of the abyss, was a door. A simple wooden door, glowing faintly with white light. Freedom. Back to my body.

But I didn’t walk toward it.

I turned back.

To him.

He was sitting up now. My wolf. My other half. His eyes glowed red, but there was something... tired in them.

"What happened to you?" I asked, breathless. "What the hell just happened out there?"

He looked at me, through me. "I finally recognized her"

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

He didn’t rise. He didn’t snarl. He simply said, "We cannot mark her."

"What?"

"If you want me to merge with you, if you want your ascension, your full power, you must vow it now. Never mark Lorraine as our mate."