The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 59: Raging Wolf

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Raging Wolf

Lorraine’s POV

The hand pulled back.

Just like that, it retracted from Selene’s chest, slipping out with a sickening shlurp sound. The bloodied organ, her heart, was still clutched in his claws.

Then he let it fall.

It landed with a wet splatter on the dirt.

Selene’s body crumpled like a broken puppet, lifeless, her eyes still wide in stunned disbelief.

I couldn’t breathe. Not from fear this time, but pain, raw, agonizing pain radiating from the gaping wound in my chest. Her claws hadn’t reached my heart, but they’d gotten damn close. I could feel the blood pumping out, hot and fast, soaking my shirt. My body swayed.

Then I saw him.

Kieran.

He stood in front of me like something ancient and untouchable. His eyes glowed a deep, haunting red, their light almost inhuman. His right hand—m, no, his entire arm up to the elbow, was soaked in blood, Selene’s blood. Steam seemed to rise from his skin, his muscles tense, his jaw tight.

He didn’t say a word.

He just looked at me.

Like I was his.

Like I was prey and pack all at once.

And for some twisted reason, I felt safe.

Alistair’s scream shattered the silence, high, raw, and animal. It pierced through the chaos like a blade. He lunged for Selene’s body, but someone grabbed him. Or maybe he fell. I couldn’t tell. My vision blurred again, the world spinning in and out of focus.

My knees buckled.

But Kieran was already there.

He caught me before I could hit the ground, strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his blood-slicked chest. His scent was a storm, iron, rage, and something dark and oddly safe. I felt the rumble of his chest as he breathed, still too wild, too close to shifting.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t comfort.

He just held me, his red eyes locked on mine, watching me like I might vanish.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

But all I could do was bleed.

Then the siren wailed.

A sharp, mechanical howl that sliced through the clearing and echoed off the trees.

The air shifted.

Everyone froze.

And then she walked in.

Astrid Voss.

Untouched. Immaculate. Like the violence and chaos had never happened.

She strode into the clearing like it belonged to her. Her heels clicked softly against the blood-soaked earth, her posture unbent, her expression razor-sharp. She didn’t flinch at at the carnage. If anything, she looked bored.

"Enough," she said, voice as crisp as shattered glass. "The hunt has ended."

She didn’t shout. She didn’t need to. Her voice carried through the clearing like a command written into our bones.

Varya collapsed to the ground, finally.

Her body was battered, bloodied, trembling, but alive. Unlike the other two Lycans near her, who lay in grotesque, unmoving heaps. Their chests had been torn open. Their limbs twisted. Dead.

But Varya lived.

Barely.

Around her were the corpses of dozens of Elites. Shredded, gutted, faces frozen mid-scream. The air stank of blood, ripped flesh, and something more brutal than anything I’d ever known.

The hunt was over.

Kieran’s POV

Lorraine was limp in my arms.

Her blood soaked into my clothes, warm and terrifyingly wet, and her skin, goddess, her skin, was too cold for someone still breathing. I tightened my grip, afraid that if I loosened it even slightly, she’d slip away from me.

And I’d never get her back.

My wolf was howling, no, screaming. The same wolf that had clawed at my chest earlier like a rabid beast when I caught the faintest whiff of blood in the wind. A feral’s blood. Her blood. I had known it was her. Everything inside me screamed it was her. I had felt it in my bones, in the marrow of my being, and yet....

I didn’t come.

Because Lorraine Anderson was a storm wrapped in flesh. Because she defied me, taunted me, enraged me, and still managed to make my heart clench with one glare. She was the kind of girl who threw herself off buildings just to prove a point. I told myself she could handle anything.

I expected everything else but not this.

Not Selene Ashthorne’s claws in her chest.

The moment I found them, Selene’s hand shoved deep into Lorraine’s body, my vision bled into red. My wolf didn’t just lunge, he unleashed. There was no thinking. No mercy. No hesitation. Just instinct. Power. Vengeance.

I killed her.

I ripped her heart out.

It was still beating when I held it in my hand, trembling with the last remnants of life before I let it fall. It hit the ground with a sickening splatter, but I didn’t care. Selene’s lifeless body slumped forward and all I could see.... was Lorraine. Pale. Bloodied. Broken.

I caught her before she fell.

And now...... now I couldn’t stop staring. My hand was still covered in Selene’s blood, darker than Lorraine’s, thicker. My wolf relished it.

Her pulse was fading. I could barely feel it.

"Stay with me," I muttered. My voice was low.

Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, just a flash of hazel

That’s when he stepped in front of me.

Alistair.

His eyes were red, not from his wolf, but from grief. Or fury. Or both. He stood tall, fists clenched, breathing ragged.

I didn’t want to kill another Ashthorne. But if he moved an inch closer, I would.

My wolf surged forward, ready to lunge, but before I could act, another body dragged itself across the blood-soaked earth.

"How dare you block the Lycan Prince’s path?" Varya growled. _{f(r)eew(e)bnovel.(c)o(m)}

Her voice was jagged steel. She was wounded, severely. Her face was torn, her shoulder dislocated, one leg dragging behind her. But her eyes burned with savage fire. She was ready to lunge at him, ready to tear him apart with her bare hands if she had to.

Alistair looked at her, at me, then at Selene’s corpse. Something in him shattered. He stepped aside, lips pressed tight, but the fury in his expression promised this wasn’t over.

I walked past him.

Lorraine whimpered softly in my arms. Her body was slick with blood, her breathing shallow and rapid. I tightened my grip and continued to walk. That’s when I saw her.

Astrid Voss.

She stood in the middle of the carnage like a shadow in the mist. Untouched. Unbothered. Perfectly calm while dozens of bodies littered the ground around her, dead, ripped open, clawed to death, heads twisted at unnatural angles.

Varya had survived, barely. The two Lycans who came with her? Torn apart. The elites? Slaughtered in dozens. A battlefield soaked in blood and smoke and agony.

Astrid walked like a queen on parade.

My wolf shifted inside me, confused. Alert.

She looked too pleased.

She didn’t lopk shocked by the massacre. She didn’t even look interested in the blood or death. Her smug smile curled like she had expected this. Like this was her game and we’d just played right into her hands.