CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER 178: ALONE.... OR NOT

Lorraine’s POV

Adrian’s voice was steady as he spoke

"At least the fact that The Leader needs you is an assurance that you’ll still be living to see another day," he said, almost as though that should comfort me.

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking into me like cold water. Assurance. Survival. That was all this came down to? I wasn’t a person to them, not really. Just a pawn on someone’s chessboard, moved and preserved only because I was useful.

"You must be exhausted and hungry," Adrian added, softer this time, his tone carrying something almost.... gentle. "Rest for now. I’ll get you some food later."

He turned, making his way toward the door.

But I didn’t want him to go yet, I still needed to ask him about the Alpha King, if he is really still alive

So my hand shot out, trembling, my body too weak but my will refusing to let him go. Fingers brushed his arm, my strength pitiful compared to what I used to have, but enough to make him pause.

"Wait," I rasped. "I..... I noticed I didn’t see Aveline. Your sister even with everything that happened in the yard, how is she doing?"

The shift in him was immediate. His countenance darkened, his face closing off like a fortress gate slammed shut. His lips tightened, his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read, pain? Anger? Fear?

"She’s fine," he said at last, the words clipped, controlled. "She’s fine."

But she wasn’t. I didn’t need heightened senses to know when someone was lying. His tone was too quick, too flat, the way someone throws a shield over a wound they don’t want anyone to touch.

I frowned, my mouth opening to press further, but Adrian was already moving. He slipped from my hold with practiced ease, like he’d trained himself to shake off attachments before they could take root. "Rest," he repeated, but the edge in his voice told me this conversation was over.

Before I could get another word out, the lock clicked. The door shut, leaving me trapped in the dim room with nothing but silence and the echo of unanswered questions.

I sank back onto the bed, my arm throbbing from where I’d tried to hold him, my entire body sagging like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I buried my head in my hand, trying to steady my breath, but the truth pressed down on me, I was alone.

What was I supposed to do now?

My thoughts spiraled, chasing themselves in cruel circles. I didn’t even know if Kieran had managed to sneak into the academy. What if he hadn’t? What if all my stubbornness, all my bravado, all my insistence on coming here had left me stranded in the lion’s den with no way out?

The confidence I’d carried with me into this hellhole hadn’t been born from arrogance. No, it had been born from him. From Kieran. The Lycan who both infuriated and protected me. The one who never bent, never faltered. I had believed, no, I had known, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. That he would always be there, always a shadow at my side, a storm ready to break over anyone who dared touch me.

But now?

Now, the silence of the room gnawed at me. The absence of his presence, the sharp edge of his gaze, the commanding weight of his aura, was louder than any scream.

What if he wasn’t here? What if I was truly on my own?

The thought hollowed me out, leaving only a gnawing ache in my chest. I pressed my palm harder into my eyes, fighting the sting of tears. I hated this weakness, hated this feeling of being small, fragile, forgotten. I had survived beatings, humiliation, and the academy itself. But the idea of facing all of this without him, without the one constant I had come to depend on, felt unbearable.

My breath hitched. The room seemed to close in, shadows stretching, pressing against me. The silence was deafening, suffocating. I curled on the bed, clutching my knees to my chest, trying to hold myself together.

"He will come for me. Kieran will come for me" I said to myself repeatedly

Kieran’s POV

Alistair sat slouched against the frame of the wooden table in the dark room.

His voice was bitter when he muttered, "This is pointless, Kieran. Everything we do here, every drop of sweat, every ounce of strength, they’re nothing but fuel to feed The Leader’s reign. You don’t understand. It’s suffocating. It’s disgusting."

I crossed my arms, irritation bristling under my skin. "If you’re that tired and disgusted, then don’t just sit here sulking about it." My voice cut sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take it back. "Do something about it."

His gaze flickered to mine, startled but guarded. He scoffed, almost bitterly. "Do something? And what would you have me do, exactly? I’m only one man, Kieran. I can’t change anything. Not here."

"Wrong," I said firmly, stepping closer until I was standing right in front of him. "You can do something. Everyone can. You just have to know where to start."

He frowned, curiosity warring with his skepticism. "And you think you know where that is?"

"Yes." My tone left no room for doubt. "What I need to know is the strength of the army here. How many soldiers. What weapons they stockpile. The patrol schedules at every gate, every shift change, every weak point. All of it. Because when the time comes, which is much closer than you think, that’s what’s going to matter. Not your sulking. Not your despair. Information, Alistair, that’s what will break this place."

He stared at me, quiet, his lips pressed tight as though he wanted to argue but couldn’t. After a pause, he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I don’t know much about that kind of thing," he admitted finally. "The movements of academy students like me are restricted, dorms, classrooms, training grounds. That’s our whole world. We’re paraded like pawns and kept in line."

I didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. But then he added, "There is someone, though. The Captain of the Crimson Hunt. He’s.... meticulous, to say the least. I’ve heard rumors he keeps records of everything, patrol schedules, guard rotations, the tiniest details. He doesn’t tolerate disorder. If you want what you’re asking for, his office is where you’ll find it."

My pulse sharpened at the thought. "Then that’s where I’ll go. If he keeps the records, then I’ll get to them. We sneak into his office and check."

Alistair blinked at me, then burst out laughing. Not lighthearted laughter, but incredulous, almost mocking. "You’re insane." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Do you even hear yourself? The Captain of the Crimson Hunt, his office? I don’t know which part I find more amusing, the fact that you seriously want to attempt something so suicidal, or the fact that you said we." He leaned back, smirking faintly. "There’s no universe where I’d follow you into that madness."

I didn’t rise to his mockery. Instead, I held his gaze steadily. "It’s fine," I said, calm and final. "I’ll figure it out myself." I gave a small nod. "But I do appreciate the help. The piece of information you gave, that’s more than you think."

His smirk faltered for a second, but I didn’t wait for a response. I turned, walked to the door, and opened it. The heavy wood creaked as I stepped into the hallway.

The hallway was cold, the first cracks of dawn were bleeding in through the narrow windows, washing the walls in pale gold. Time was thinning. I needed to move fast, get the information from the captain’s office, and get Lorraine the hell out of this place before the sun rose fully.

My focus sharpened, every step measured, until suddenly a hand shot out of the shadows and dragged me into a dark corner. My body reacted before my mind did, fangs threatening to unsheathe, claws flexing.

Alistair again?

I didn’t soften. "I appreciate the first time you pulled me was to help," I growled low, my voice scraping with warning, "but the next time you make contact with my skin for no reason, I will cut those hands clean off."

He tilted his head coolly, utterly unbothered by the sharpness in my tone. "Calm down, princeling. You’re stomping around like you own the place, cocky, like you know what you’re doing. You want to sneak into the captain’s office, yet...." his smirk darkened, "you don’t even know where the office is. Because you’re heading in the wrong godsdamn direction."

My jaw tightened. "I’ll figure it out." I turned to leave.

His hand shot out again, brushing my arm.

I froze. Slowly, deliberately, I turned my gaze on him, a look cold enough to bleed bone.

He recoiled instantly, both hands raised in retreat. "Fine. Fine. Point taken." He exhaled through his nose, sharp and annoyed. "But the sun’s about to come up. You can’t keep prowling around like this, you’ll stand out like a bloodied wolf in a sheep pen. I can sneak some Crimson Hunt guard uniforms from the dormitory. With those, we can slide right past everyone."

My brow lifted. "’We?’"

"Yeah, we." He huffed, eyes flicking away. "I changed my mind. Big deal. Follow me."

I shadowed him back through twisting corridors. He moved with more caution now, pulling open a side door that led into the Lycan dormitory which it seems the Crimson Hunt now used. The dormitory was mostly empty, the guards were out, still finishing their night patrols. Alistair strode straight to the footlockers, snapping one open with deft fingers. He tossed me a dark crimson tunic, its collar marked with the hunter’s sigil.

The fabric reeked of dried blood and ash, but I pulled it on anyway. A disguise was a disguise.

Alistair smirked at the way it fit me. "You don’t look half bad in crimson."

I ignored him, fastening the cloak at my shoulder. "Let’s move."

Together, we slipped through the hallways, blending in with the rhythm of the fortress. The disguise worked, no one gave us more than a fleeting glance.

The captain’s office loomed at the end of a long corridor, its door thick oak, bound with steel. Locked, of course.

Alistair cursed under his breath. "We don’t have time..."

"Shut up," I muttered, crouching. My fingers dug into my cloak until I pulled out a small pin. Lorraine’s face flickered in my mind, the way she’d smirked that first time I’d seen her pick a lock with nothing but stubborn determination and a sliver of metal. I’d memorized the way her hands moved.

Now mine did the same. Click. The tumblers shifted. Another click.

The lock gave way.

Alistair blinked. "Since when do Lycans pick locks?"

"Since I met someone worth learning from," I muttered, pushing the door open.

The air inside was different. Heavy. Not stale like an unused room should be, but.... alive.

I thrust out my arm, stopping Alistair in his tracks. My nostrils flared, catching the faintest trace of breath, of steel, of predator.

"There’s someone here," I said low, my voice sharp

Then... a shadow moved.

And the captain stepped out from behind one of the tall bookshelves, his eyes blazing red, fangs bared, claws extended. A blade glinted in his hand, its edge catching the newborn sunlight that trickled through the shutters.

"Breaking and entering?" the captain snarled, his voice a growl that rumbled through the floor. "You’ve got some balls, boy."