CHAPTER 162: CHAPTER 162: SHACKLES OF THE WOLF

Kieran’s POV

Astrid’s chanting deepened, each syllable weighted with power older than the stones beneath our feet. Her grip on my hand was iron, the runes carved into the floor glowing hot beneath my knees.

Then....

My mother’s eyes snapped fully open, blazing that otherworldly, spectral light. Her scream tore through the room like a blade, so loud and unnatural it made the air itself quiver. Every muscle in her body convulsed, the bed frame groaning as if it might splinter beneath her.

"Hold her!" Astrid barked.

Magnus and Varya pressed down harder, their faces twisted with the strain. Cyrin was already moving, wrapping the chains tighter, his hands blurring with speed, the silver links smoking where they met her skin. The stench of burnt flesh and magic mixed in the air.

My chest tightened.

It wasn’t just the heat from the runes, it was her.

Through Astrid’s grip, the bond between us became a channel. I felt the moment Astrid began to draw, fromm me, using the energy to try to cage my mother’s wolf. It was like someone had punched a hole straight through my soul and was siphoning it dry.

The power was raw. Chaotic. Vicious.

It clawed through me, pulling at everything, strength, breath, will.

My mother thrashed harder. Her arms and legs lashed out with a strength that made the chains snap taut. For a terrifying heartbeat, I thought she’d break them.

Her voice was half scream, half wolf’s roar, shaking the very bones of the room.

The runes flared white hot, searing into my knees. My vision blurred, and I could feel it, her wolf fighting, biting, raking at the cage Astrid was weaving. And every time Astrid’s words struck home, that fight ripped through me, tearing pieces away.

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached.

She was my mother.

And yet.... to save her, we had to do this.

"Don’t let go!" Astrid snarled, her voice strained now, sweat running down her temples.

I didn’t. Couldn’t. But goddess, it hurt. My veins burned, my heart felt like it was being wrung out by invisible hands.

The chains rattled violently. My mother’s eyes locked on mine, just for a second, and there was something there. Fury. Recognition. Pain. And then...

A final, guttural scream tore free from her throat....

....and the wolf inside her slammed into the cage Astrid had forged.

The magic pulsed once, hard enough to make the floor crack. The light from the runes dimmed all at once, and the air rushed out of my lungs.

My grip slipped. My arms felt like lead.

Astrid released me, staggering back, her face pale but victorious.

And me?

I pitched forward, my body hitting the cold stone as darkness swallowed me whole.

******

The once proud halls of Lunar Crest Academy no longer carried the quiet echo of study and whispered rivalries. Now, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the constant rhythm of boots striking stone. The flag of the Crimson Hunt, blood red, stitched with the snarling sigil of their order, hung high above the central courtyard, swaying in the cold night wind. It was no longer a school. It was a fortress. A proving ground.

Adrian Vale stood at the top of the grand stairs, the glow of the torchlight catching the sharp lines of his face. His gaze swept over the yard below, where students, no longer students, but soldiers in training, clashed in brutal drills. Sweat and blood streaked their skin, their hands raw from the unending punishment. There was no reprieve. No mercy. Failure was met with more pain until the lesson was beaten into their bones.

Beside him, Aveline, his ghosthound sister, her presence cold and unyielding, paced like a predator on a short leash. Where Adrian’s authority was precise and commanding, hers was a silent, oppressive force that made even the most arrogant noble lower their head unless they want to lose it.

It had been a week since Kieran Valerius Hunter and his people had escaped, vanishing into the night like smoke. Seven days of waiting for the inevitable strike. Seven days of silence that pressed in on Adrian’s mind like a tightening noose.

Why haven’t they come?

His gut twisted with the thought. Kieran was not the type to retreat without a counterblow. The silence wasn’t mercy. It wasn’t hesitation. It was the kind of quiet that came before the storm broke, a silence heavy with the promise of violence.

He’d already moved to fortify the academy. Letters had gone out to the Crimson Hunt. Reinforcements had arrived, their armor black as the shadows they came from. He’d stationed extra sentries along the walls, placed patrols at every gate, and doubled the night watch.

But even with the crimson cloaked killers at his back, it didn’t feel like enough. Not against them. Not against him.

Adrian’s fingers tightened around the rolled parchment of his most recent letter, another request for more troops, more weapons, more everything. He had secured the academy for now, but his instincts screamed that the real fight hadn’t even begun.

And when it did.... he feared they might already be too late.

Adrian rose from his chair, the leather creaking beneath the sudden movement. The office was dimly lit, the heavy drapes drawn shut to keep out the cold moonlight. Across the room, Aveline lay sprawled on a chaise, her long blonde hair spilling over the cushions. Her breathing was slow, but even in sleep her lips curled faintly, as though she were dreaming of fresh prey.

Every day, the hunger in her eyes grew, no longer just the thrill of combat, but a deeper, more primal lust for blood. It was seeping into her bones, reshaping her. Adrian didn’t know how much longer she could keep from losing herself entirely.

He had sent letters about her condition to the Crimson Hunt leader, begging for guidance, even if it was just a single line of instruction. But there had been no reply. Still, he never held it against the man. The leader had an empire of blood and war to command, he was not a man who lingered over small details.

And yet, Adrian knew one thing with absolute certainty, this man genuinely cared about him, unlike everyone else. He had taken Adrian in when he was nothing, when everything, family, name, pack, had been stripped from him. The life he had now, the strength, the fear he commanded, it was all because of him. That was enough.

The sudden crash of the office doors bursting open broke his thoughts.

A guard stumbled in, panting, sweat gleaming against his temple.

"Director Vale!" the man blurted without bowing. "He’s here. The leader.... he’s here."

Adrian’s head snapped toward him.

"What?" His voice was sharp, disbelieving. He was already on his feet.

The guard swallowed. "He just arrived at the front gates"

The words lodged in Adrian’s chest. The leader was here? Now? Without warning? He had never, never, shown up unannounced.

Why would he come here.... and why now?

The courtyard was already shadowed in the creeping gloom of dusk when Adrian burst through the main doors of the academy. His boots struck hard against the cold stone, the sound carrying over the hurried shuffle of guards and the whispered speculations of students.

"Line up! Kneel, now!" he barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

The moment the black, armored convoy rolled through the gates, the air shifted. Every student, every guard, every soul in the courtyard dropped to their knees in unison, foreheads bowed low to the cracked cobblestones. Even Adrian, the new Director of Lunar Crest Academy and commander in all but name, sank down, head bowed. No one, absolutely no one, dared look up.

The first car came to a halt, engine rumbling low like a restrained predator. One of the leader’s personal guards, tall, masked, and wrapped in dark crimson trimmed armor, stepped out first. Without a word, he circled to the rear passenger side and pulled the door open.

A heavy silence fell. The only sound was the soft crunch of boots as he emerged.

The leader of the Crimson Hunt.

A figure carved from pure authority, broad shoulders beneath a high-collared black coat, the deep crimson sash of his rank slashing across his chest like a wound. His presence was suffocating, his gaze cutting through the air like a blade.

"Adrian."

The name rolled from his mouth in a voice that was thick, commanding, and heavy enough to still the wind.

Adrian rose instantly, straightening to his full height. "Leader." His greeting was deep and formal, his posture respectful.

A curt nod was the only reply. Without breaking stride, the leader moved forward, eyes sweeping the kneeling crowd as if weighing their worth without a single word. Students trembled in the dirt, none daring to so much as breathe too loudly.

Adrian fell into step behind him, the echo of their boots filling the oppressive silence. And all the while, his mind churned.

The leader was here. In person.

He wasn’t a man who made idle visits. He was the most calculating strategist Adrian had ever met, every move he made was deliberate, every appearance a statement. To leave his stronghold and come this far.... it couldn’t be for courtesy’s sake.

No.

The leader was here for a reason.

And Adrian could already feel it in his gut, this reason was big.

The kind of big that could shatter everything.