The cart rattled beneath me as we rode through the darkened forest, each bump jarring my already broken body. The cold night air bit at my skin, but it wasn't the chill that made me shiver.
It was him.
The Lycan.
I kept my eyes low at first, staring at the rough wooden planks beneath me, but the silence was unbearable. I stole a glance up.
All I could see was his back.
Broad. Towering. Unmoving.
Even from behind, the power radiating off him was suffocating. The black cloak he wore shifted with the wind, revealing the way his shoulders tensed as he controlled the beast beneath him.
He didn't speak.
Didn't turn.
Didn't acknowledge my existence in the slightest.
And I knew better than to try and change that.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
The ShadowFangs had beaten, humiliated, and tormented me for years, but nothing—not even them—had ever made my stomach twist with dread like this.
I was scared.
Not of dying. I had long accepted death.
But of how it would happen.
What awaited me.
No one from the Feral Packs had ever come back from Lunar Crest Academy. No bodies, no rumors, no warnings—just silence. It was as if they had simply ceased to exist.
Would it be quick?
Or would it be slow?
Would I die the moment we arrived?
Or would they drag it out, let me suffer, let me break completely?
I clenched my fists against my thighs, my nails digging into my skin. I wouldn't break.
I refused.
But no matter how much I told myself that, I couldn't stop the way my pulse hammered in my ears, or the way my breath quickened every time I glanced at the man—monster—riding ahead of me.
The Lycan.
The first of our kind.
The most primal. The strongest. The deadliest.
And I was being delivered to them.
For what?
For death?
Or for something far worse?
The ride continued, long, silent, and unbearable.
I had spent most of it curled in the back of the cart, my fingers gripping the worn edges of the wooden planks beneath me. Every now and then, I would steal glances at the rider—the towering figure shrouded in black, his face hidden beneath the hood. But he never turned. Never spoke. Never acknowledged my existence.
As if I was already nothing.
As if I was already dead.
Then, in the distance, I saw it.
Bright lights pierced the darkness, illuminating the night like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare.
And as we drew closer, my breath caught in my throat.
Lunar Crest Academy.
The name burned itself into my vision, engraved in massive silver lettering across the towering black gates. The academy itself was monstrous, stretching high into the sky like some modern fortress carved from stone and steel. The bright white lights lining the outer walls cast an eerie glow against the dark sky, making the entire place seem surreal—untouchable.
I had never seen anything so grand.
So imposing.
For a moment, I forgot to be afraid.
Then, just as the cart approached, the gates moved.
No one touched them. No chains, no guards.
Yet, with a deep, mechanical groan, the iron doors opened on their own.
I felt my stomach twist.
The horse rode us through the entrance, hooves clacking against the smooth stone path beneath us. The courtyard was just as massive, lined with towering statues and polished silver lanterns that cast an almost blinding glow over everything.
And in the center of the large expanse stoo a woman
Tall. Strong. Built like a war machine.
She wore a formal, fitted red suit, her presence exuding a level of authority that sent a chill crawling up my spine. Even with her dark spectacles, I could see the glint of red behind them. Her claws, longer than any werewolf's, gleamed under the lights, sharp and unnatural.
A Lycan.
My chest tightened.
The rider finally slowed the horse to a stop, and for the first time, acknowledged her.
A simple nod.
Nothing more.
The woman returned the gesture before shifting her attention to me, her lips parting as she spoke my name with calm, lethal precision.
"Lorraine Anderson. Come out."
I swallowed, frozen.
She knew my name.
My legs trembled as I moved, every muscle in my body screaming in exhaustion. When I finally stepped down, my knees nearly buckled beneath me, but I forced myself to stand.
Even if my body was weak.
Even if my heart pounded violently against my ribs.
Even if I was terrified.
I stood still
Her red-glowing eyes swept over me, slow and scrutinizing. She took in my torn clothes, my bruised face, the way I barely stood upright. There was no pity in her gaze. Only cold, calculating assessment.
Finally, she straightened. "I am Astrid Voss," she stated. Her voice was smooth but firm, carrying an air of authority that demanded obedience. "I am the Head Coordinator of Lunar Crest Academy. I oversee all students, where they go, what they do, how they are disciplined."
I kept my face blank, my heart still pounding.
Her lips twitched slightly, almost like she was amused by my silence. "Welcome to Lunar Crest Academy."
Welcome?
The word felt like a cruel joke.
Astrid tilted her head. "You are from one of the Feral Packs, correct? ShadowFang?"
I hesitated before giving a small nod.
That was a mistake.
Astrid's expression darkened. "When I speak to you, you reply with words."
A jolt of fear shot through me. "I—I'm sorry," I rasped, my throat still raw from earlier. "Yes. I'm from ShadowFang."
Astrid studied me for another brief moment before turning sharply on her heel. "Follow me."
I didn't hesitate this time.
Her strides were long and purposeful, and I struggled to keep up, my small, battered frame dragging behind her. The academy was enormous, the hallways stretching endlessly, lined with gleaming marble floors and intricate golden chandeliers. Everything here reeked of wealth. Power. Superiority.
I didn't belong.
After several minutes, we reached a building separate from the main halls. It was smaller, but still extravagant. Astrid pushed open a door and stepped aside. "This is where you will sleep tonight."
I hesitated before stepping inside.
The room wasn't massive, but it was a world away from the cold, empty attic I had spent five years in. The bed was large and draped in soft, dark sheets. The walls were smooth, polished. There was a lamp, casting a warm glow, actual light. A dresser stood in the corner, tray of food sat neatly on the table, and uniform folded perfectly on the bed.
Astrid's voice cut through my thoughts. "Tomorrow morning, you will put on that uniform. There will be a general academy orientation for everyone, after which you will be assigned a permanent room in the dormitories."
She didn't wait for me to reply. Without another glance, she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.
I stood there, staring at the space she left.
My eyes drifted back to the uniform. The food. The soft bed.
This wasn't what I expected.
I had come here prepared to die. Or at the very least, to be draaged through the dirt, humiliated, beaten like I had been all my life.
But instead—I was given a bed. Clothes. A meal.
Was this real?
Or were they just feeding me before they slaughter me like an animal?