#WARNING
Vivid descriptions of abuse scenes.
Readers discretion is advised.


They call it an honor, but everyone knows the truth.
Every year, the Lycans choose one werewolf from the Feral Packs to attend Lunar Crest Academy. A place of wealth, power, and deadly secrets. A place no Feral has ever returned from.

This year, that sacrifice is Lorraine Anderson
Branded as the outcast of the ShadowFang Pack, she has endured years of torment at the hands of those who once called her family. Beaten, broken, and betrayed, she is now being handed over to the monsters that rule them all. The Lycans.
She knows what awaits her.....death.

But when she arrives at Lunar Crest Academy, she finds something even worse than death. A game.
One where she is the lowest-ranked player.
One where survival is impossible.

And at the center of it all stands him.
The Lycan prince. Cold. Ruthless. Dangerous. His red eyes seem to follow her every move, his presence a constant, suffocating force. She should fear him like everyone else. She should cower under his gaze.

But she doesn’t.
Because beneath his terrifying exterior, there’s something else. Something dark and possessive. Something that makes her heart pound in a way it never should.

In a world where strength is everything and weakness means death, Lorraine has only one choice.... to fight.

Even if it means challenging the very monsters that want to destroy her.

Even if it means becoming something far more terrifying than anyone ever expected.

Because one thing is certain…
She will not die quietly.

I didn't know how long I'd been running, only that every step felt heavier than the last. Lorraine's weight in my arms wasn't the problem, I'd carry her for a thousand lifetimes if I had to. It was the silence around us. The unnatural, suffocating stillness of this land.… no one ever dared to come this close to the shunned priestess abode, even standing a mile close to her house was said to bring severe bad luck.


But finally, beyond the crooked trees and the fog that seemed determined to swallow everything whole, I saw it.


That is, if it could still be called a house.


A one-story structure hunched in the shadows, eaten alive by time and vines. The walls were chipped, the roof sagging, and weeds grew tall enough to swallow the front steps. The door, if one could call the half broken slab of wood a door, hung wide open. No sound. No movement. No hint of life.


Chapter 207 - Chapter 207: The Den of The Priestess