The scream ripped itself out of my throat before I could stop it.
I staggered back, crashing into a table and sending a chair clattering to the floor. My chest tightened, my vision blurred. I was going to be sick.
The body hung like a grotesque piece of art in the center of the cafeteria. A girl, barely older than me. A feral. Her eyes were wide open in horror, her mouth still agape mid-scream. Her body was strung up naked, arms spread like wings, ribs cracked wide and pried open as if someone had tried to tear her heart out. Blood painted the walls and floors in thick streaks, fresh and warm. It dripped from her toes, pooling beneath her like a silent accusation.
I spun around and ran.
I didn't stop to think. I couldn't. My feet slammed against the hallway tiles, my breath coming out in ragged, panicked sobs. I didn't even register the person I collided with until strong arms steadied me.
"Lorraine?" Adrian's voice, laced with confusion and concern. "What the hell happened?"
But I couldn't stop. I pushed past him, blind with terror and bile in my throat.
I burst into Astrid Voss's office without knocking, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.
She looked up slowly, her gaze sharp and severe, her perfectly tailored crimson suit pristine, like she was carved from authority itself. She sat tall behind her desk, hands folded, eyes glowing faintly golden in annoyance.
"You better have a damn good reason for barging into my office like this," she said coldly.
Adrian appeared behind me, breathless from running after me.
Astrid scoffed, folding her arms. "Of course. You two again."
I doubled over, panting, my hands on my knees. I tried to speak but all that came out were broken words, shattered and desperate. "Cafeteria—ma'am—blood—murder—she's… she's dead—"
Astrid narrowed her eyes. "Someone was killed?" Her tone didn't shift. It wasn't fear. It wasn't even surprise. Just calculation. "Who?"
I tried to form the name. I didn't even know it. Just another feral girl. I motioned with my hand, practically begging her to follow. "You need to see. Please."
With a sigh like she was being inconvenienced, Astrid rose from her chair. She led the way, her heels clicking sharply against the marble as we returned to the cafeteria.
Adrian walked beside me, his face pale. When we stepped back inside, the gruesome reality hit us all over again.
The girl was still there. Still hanging. Still bleeding.
Astrid didn't flinch.
She tilted her head, observing the scene like one might examine a painting in a gallery. "A feral yet again" she said quietly, then nodded. "I'll call the Cleanse Unit."
I turned to her, confused. "The what?"
"The ones who clean up corpses," she said simply, already pulling out her phone. "They'll dispose of the body and sterilize the cafeteria before nightfall. Don't worry, you'll be able to eat here tomorrow."
My stomach flipped. "That's all you're going to do? Someone did this. You're not even going to investigate?"
Astrid tucked her phone away and looked at me like I was a clueless child. "And what would I be investigating, Lorraine? I warned you all on the first day: survival is the only rule that matters here."
"She was murdered," I snapped. "That girl was tortured! Strung up like... like some sacrifice!"
"And?" Astrid said coolly, her tone edged with irritation. "No one forced her to die. She was too weak to survive. That's all there is to it."
My mouth opened, then closed. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't believe it.
"She was someone," I said hoarsely.
"To you," Astrid said. "Not to this academy. Not to the hierarchy. The moment she walked through those gates with a purple collar around her throat, she was already marked. Like all of you"
I shook my head in disbelief. "So you're just going to keep letting this happen? Let people get murdered—"
"If they're strong enough, they'll survive. If not," she gestured vaguely to the body, "that."
She turned to leave, dialing her phone again. "And you two, get out of here before I add detention to your punishment."
Adrian grabbed my arm before I could say something that would definitely get me expelled—or worse.
Astrid spoke into her phone as she walked away. "Cleanse Unit? Yes. Cafeteria. A female feral. You'll know her when you see her."
And just like that, she vanished around the corner, heels clicking into silence.
I stood there shaking, staring at the blood as it dripped. It hit the floor in quiet, rhythmic drops. I wondered how long she'd been alive while it happened.
Adrian whispered next to me, "Come on. Let's go."
I looked up at him, and my throat burned with fury. Not just at the killer. But at the system. At the silence. At the indifference.
As Adrian dragged me out, I took one last, teary glance at the girl. Her lifeless body hung like a twisted mockery of dignity, but something tugged at my attention. Her fingers, barely noticeable, were curled tightly into a trembling fist.
"Go on without me," I told Adrian, stopping in my tracks.
"What? Lorraine, come on!"
"I'll be fine. Just... go."
He looked unsure, but finally nodded. "Don't take too long."
As he disappeared down the hall, I turned back to the corpse. My stomach churned, bile already threatening to rise, but I forced myself to move. I grabbed a a nearby chair, dragged it across the sticky floor, and climbed up, my legs wobbling as I came face to face with the girl's shattered body.
"Gods…" I whispered, every breath a battle against the stench of blood and death.
Her hand, small and trembling, was clutched tight, even in death. I reached for it, the warmth long gone, and forced myself to pry her fingers open. They cracked faintly at the joints, stiff from rigor mortis. That's when I saw it.
A torn piece of fabric.
I blinked down at it, heart pounding in my ears.
It was white and stained with blood
This was the same fabric used for our uniform.
She must've ripped it off during the struggle. Maybe she fought back, clung to anything she could, even as she was dying.
A scream built in my throat again, but I choked it down. My fingers trembled as I took the piece of cloth and stepped off the chair, grounding myself. My breath was shallow, and the stench was unbearable, but this.... this was proof.
She didn't just die. She was hunted. Murdered. And her killer was one of them.
I remembered the figure I saw super speeding out of the cafeteria, I vividly remember his red collar.
A Lycan did this to her
I clenched the bloodied fabric in my fist, my nails digging into my skin. Whoever did this thought they could get away with it. That her death would mean nothing just because she was a feral.
But they were wrong.
She died fighting, and I'm not going to let her death be meaningless.
I'm going to find who did this.
And to do that, I'll need help. Not just anyone's.
I'll need Kieran.