The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 143: He Doesn’t Matter

Chapter 143: Chapter 143: He Doesn’t Matter

Lorraine’s POV

The wind had settled around us, and the only sound now was the rustling of leaves whispering across the moonlit clearing.

Kieran stood tall and terrifying in his ascended form, the silver streaks still threading through his dark hair, his crimson eyes dimmed slightly but still unnatura. And even though he was calm now, I could feel the fire burning beneath his skin.

But we had found each other. I had stopped him. He was awake and sane and whole.

That had to mean something, right?

"So...." I broke the silence, my voice unsure, "what do we do now? Should we head back to the underground hideout? Astrid said we needed to come up with a proper plan if we’re going to...."

"No."

I blinked.

He didn’t even let me finish. "There’s no we in this, Lorraine."

My heart stilled. "What?"

I took a step forward, confused, instinctively reaching for his hand. He stepped back immediately, like my fingers were made of fire. That same hand, his hand, that had once cupped my cheek like it was something precious.... now recoiled from me like I was a plague.

"What’s going on, Kieran?" I asked softly, a knot forming in my chest. "Why won’t you let me touch you?"

"There’s nothing wrong," he said coldly. "I just don’t want you touching me. That’s all."

It hit like a slap. I swallowed, trying not to let the pain show.

"But why?" I asked, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "You’ve never pushed me away before. We’ve hugged. We’ve kissed. You..... used to crave my touch."

His face remained unreadable, carved from stone.

"That was when I was just the Lycan prince," he said simply, like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. "Back when I could... manage your status."

"...Manage my....?" My voice cracked.

He didn’t stop. "But now I’m an ascended Lycan, Lorraine. I’ve become the next king of the entire werewolf kingdom. And a nobody like you.."

He paused only to look me over with a disgustingly calm stare.

"...shouldn’t even get the chance to speak to me, let alone touch me. You’re not worthy of me."

My heart felt like it stopped.

I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t.

His words sank like iron through my veins.

Not worthy?

The same man who’d held me while I bled... kissed me like the world would end... fought to protect me more times than I could count... the man who saw me when no one else did, was now telling me I wasn’t worthy?

I laughed. It was hollow, cracked laugh

"You’re joking," I said, shaking my head slowly, trying to blink away the disbelief stinging my eyes. "You have to be joking."

But Kieran didn’t move. His face was carved in stone. Not a flicker of emotion. Not a twitch of hesitation. Just those crimson eyes staring right through me like I was less than air.

"I don’t joke, Lorraine," he said, each word slicing cleaner than the last. "You were a.... distraction. Something I entertained when I had the luxury of time and nothing better to do."

I staggered back a step like he’d slapped me.

His voice remained even, detached. "But let’s not pretend you ever belonged in my world. You’re a feral. A relic of pity and charity. That’s all you’ve ever been."

The words punched the air out of my lungs.

I felt the tears press hard against the backs of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I would not break. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of him.

Instead, I straightened my spine, wiped the emotion off my face like it was dirt, and nodded slowly.

"I see," I said quietly, my voice trembling only slightly. "I guess I.... overestimated my importance in your life"

He said nothing.

I forced a small, bitter smile. "My apologies, your highness. I’ll stay in my lane from now on"

I didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t want one.

I turned away and walked off into the night, the pain screaming beneath my ribs, every step heavier than the last. My eyes burned, but I didn’t cry. My heart ached, but I didn’t stumble.

I wouldn’t give up now, not on myself. Not on the fight.

I didn’t know how long I walked. I just kept going, through the trees, over roots and rocks, not caring where I ended up as long as it was far away from him. From the lie. From the dagger he’d driven into my chest with that cold voice.

When I was sure I was alone, when even the sound of the wind didn’t remind me of him anymore, my knees buckled.

I fell to the ground, palms scraping against cold earth, and the moment I landed, it hit me like a wave crashing down.

I cried.

No, I broke.

My hands clutched at my chest, desperate to hold something together, but it was useless. It all felt like it was falling apart inside me. My sobs were raw, ugly, torn straight from the pit of my soul. And it wasn’t just because of the words he’d said, it was because he meant them.

I remembered everything. Every. Damn. Thing.

The night we snuck into Astrid’s office. I was scared out of my mind, sure we were going to be caught, and then the fire trap triggered. I remember the way he grabbed me, shielding me with his own body. His back had been scorched, but he hadn’t cared. Because I was safe.

The time I led the ferals in protest, the day so many died. I was moments from breaking, drowning in blood and despair. And then he showed up. And he saves me

The countless times he stood in front of me, beside me, defending me, believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.

The nights I spent in his villa. The silence, the warmth. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t just another feral, like I mattered. The sound of his voice as he held, gruff and real. The time he let me rest my head on his chest and I could hear his heartbeat, a rhythm I’d memorized.

And now...

Now, none of it meant anything to him.

Because he’s ascended.

Because I’m "a nobody."

My breath hitched and my sobs came harder.

How could it hurt this much?

How could someone give you so many memories, so many pieces of themselves, only to rip it all away the moment they became something more?

I buried my face in my arms, my body trembling on the forest floor. The moon watched from above, silent and cruel, casting silver light over the shattered pieces of me.

I wanted to hate him.

I wanted to forget him.

But gods... I loved him.

And that’s what made it hurt the most.

I sniffed as I wiped the tears from my face. The skin around my eyes stung from how much I’d cried, but I forced myself to stand. I swayed for a moment, knees weak from the heart acge, but I didn’t let myself fall.

I couldn’t fall.

Not now.

Not when Adrian and Aveline were still out there.

Not when Elise was dead, brutally, mercilessly persecuted. Tortured like she was nothing. Her last moments had been filled with agony, and I wasn’t there to stop it.

And Kieran.... Kieran could go to hell with his royal ascended pride.

My feelings didn’t matter anymore. Not my heartbreak, not my confusion. Revenge mattered. Elise mattered. Callum, and the countless ferals whose screams had been silenced before their time, they mattered.

I clenched my fists.

This world may not value the weak, but I would make them remember every single one of us they broke.

With or without Kieran.

I began walking toward the underground hideout. The forest felt heavier now, colder. The trees whispered as the wind howled through them, and every sound made my nerves prickle. My wolf stirred in my chest, alert, sensing something before I did.

And then....

A sharp ring of steel against flesh.

My body stilled.

Something cold and cruel pressed against the side of my neck ans I froze.

A blade.

A large one. Serrated. I could feel the teeth of it against my skin.

I didn’t even get to scream before I noticed them, surrounding me.

A dozen, maybe more.

All dressed in deep red and black armor, their faces masked, their eyes soulless. Each of them poised, disciplined, their weapons steady and deadly. Long spears tipped in silver, short daggers glinting with a sheen that whispered of poison.

One wrong move and I was dead.

These weren’t just ordinary fighters. These were trained warriors. Killers.

One of them, the one pressing the blade against my throat, leaned closer. I couldn’t see their face beneath the black mask, but I felt their breath on my cheek. Cold. Measured.

"Move," they said. A woman’s voice, low, sharp, deadly.

I didn’t dare breathe too deeply. "Who are you?" I whispered.

What the hell is going on?

Why were they here? Were they with Adrian? The Crimson Hunt? Or someone else entirely?

Why were they so close to the hideout?

And what do they want from me?