The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 125: The Girl Without a Name

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: The Girl Without a Name

Lorraine’s POV

I began pacing.

My shoes barely made a sound against the polished stone floor of Astrid Voss’s office, but my heart was beating loud enough to drown everything else out. I gripped the file tighter, fingers trembling slightly from the mix of nerves and something else I couldn’t name.

On the desk in front of me was a single sheet of paper and a passport-sized photograph clipped to the top corner.

There was no name.

No date of birth.

No dormitory allocation.

No pack affiliation.

Nothing.

Just a photograph. A haunting, grainy image of a girl.

Her face was almost entirely obscured by tangled strands of pale blonde hair, so long it looked like it hadn’t been brushed in years. Only one eye peeked through, an eerie, pale gray-blue iris staring directly into the lens. It didn’t feel like I was looking at her.... it felt like she was looking at me. Even through the photo.

I’ve never seen her before. I was sure of it.

But something about her sent a chill racing down my spine.

I dropped my gaze to the note scribbled beneath the file heading. The handwriting wasn’t Astrid’s—this one was sharp, clean, too neat to be real.

"Do not assign dorm.

No training assessments.

Subject is in holding under special project.

Clearance: Director-level only."

Subject.

Not student. Not patient. Not wolf.

Subject.

My stomach tightened. What kind of student is held under a "special project"? And why is her location not even mentioned here?

I tapped my finger nervously against the desk.

Holding.

Held where?

There were plenty of off-limit places in Lunar Crest Academy. The East Wing’s underground vaults. The old archives beneath the war history building. The unused barracks left from the time of the first Lycans. But none of those would require Director-level only clearance.

They were hiding her somewhere deep. Somewhere no one even talks about.

Why?

I stared at the photo again. That one visible eye, it looked too hollow to belong to someone fully sane. Like she had seen things most people wouldn’t survive.

Who the hell are you? And why is your existence a secret?

My hands clenched tighter around the file.

The Ghosthound.

Could it be her?

No. She didn’t look like a threat. She looked... broken. But maybe that was the point. Maybe that’s why she was being hidden. Not because she’s harmless, but because she’s dangerous beyond comprehension.

I had more questions than answers now. And I was beginning to realize that this academy was playing host to secrets darker than any of us could imagine.

The thought of confronting Astrid Voss about everything slipped in. But I shook my head before it could take root.

No.

Astrid Voss would never give me the truth. She hoarded secrets like treasures and guarded them with claws sharper than any wolf’s. Even if I burst through her door and demanded answers, she’d hand me a perfectly constructed lie, laced with just enough truth to keep me questioning.

She was a master of silence. A predator that let people trap themselves in half-truths.

So what now?

I sighed and lowered myself to the floor, legs folding underneath me as I sat against the edge of her cold, immaculate desk. I stared at the mysterious file still lying open in front of me. The photo of the faceless girl. The note about "special projects." The absence of everything that should have been there. The gaps screamed louder than words.

First it was the Crimson Hunt.

Now this.

Were the two connected? Was the Ghosthound just another weapon forged by the Crimson Hunt? Or were they enemies? Allies? Was she a prisoner, or the puppet master?

I buried my face in my hands.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Adrian had been dragged off to be locked up and interrogated for what he knows nothing about. Felix was back at the hospital, probably tearing himself apart. And Elise..... Elise was barely clinging to life.

And me?

I was stuck here.... waiting. Thinking. Spinning in circles.

No. I couldn’t do that anymore. I had to act.

I leaned my head back against the desk and closed my eyes.

It’s been a while, I whispered silently, reaching inward, down past bone and blood to the thing sleeping inside me..... my wolf

I hope you don’t still think I’m unworthy of you... because I really, really need your help right now.

Silence.

Not even the faintest stir.

Typical.

My wolf had always been distant. Cold. A presence that felt more like a curse than a gift. She never came when I begged, only when I bled.

Please....

Still nothing.

Until suddenly....

The air changed.

A pressure formed in my chest, sharp and heavy like I’d been yanked underwater. My pulse slowed. My thoughts dulled. And then....

Everything went black. _{free\we,bnovel.c o(m)}

I wasn’t in the office anymore.

I wasn’t anywhere I recognized.

The world had turned gray and heavy, like the sky was pressing down on me. My feet stood on cracked stone and my breath fogged in the air. I looked around, dark, endless corridors carved deep into the earth. The walls were old, older than anything in the academy. Carved with sigils.

Underground.

So far beneath the academy it felt like the bones of the world.

I moved, though my body didn’t feel like mine. Like I was watching through a veil, seeing through someone else’s eyes. Maybe hers. My wolf.

Then I saw it.

A door. Thick. Iron-banded. Locked with chains and marked with warnings in every ancient dialect. It reeked of power. Of fear. Of something not meant to ever be let out.

Behind that door.... was her.

The Ghosthound.

I couldn’t see her clearly, only flashes.

A body. Shackled. Head bowed. Hair matted. Blonde.

And an energy so violent it made the walls hum with dread.

She wasn’t just powerful. She was unnatural.

The kind of force that could tear kingdoms in half if she wanted.

She’s not asleep, my wolf whispered inside me.

She’s waiting.

And then, just as suddenly as it began....

I gasped and snapped back into myself, breath catching like I’d been drowning. I was back in Astrid’s office, slumped on the floor, heart racing.

My palms were trembling.

The Ghosthound... was real.

And now I knew where she was.

Buried. Shackled. Forgotten.

But not for long.