CHAPTER 150: CHAPTER 150: AT WHAT COST

Lorraine’s POV

The moment felt frozen in time.

The two decapitated heads fell from the Ghosthound Queen’s bloodied fingers and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

But the royal guards didn’t flinch.

Five of them remained.

They stepped forward in unison, forming a shield of flesh and steel in front of Kieran. I expected to see fear in their eyes. But instead, I saw resolve, cold and unwavering. Their blades sang out as they were drawn, claws extending from their fingers like razors.

This was why they were called royal guards.

Not because they served royalty, but because they would die for it.

And they were about to.

Kieran grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him. "Stay behind me. No matter what."

"But...."

"Lorraine," he said, voice low and steady, "Please."

Then it began.

She moved before any of us could even blink.

One second, the Ghosthound Queen was standing there, an emaciated silhouette in a stained hospital gown, her hair a mess of wild black strands, blood glistening down her arms.

The next....

She vanished.

A sharp snap cracked through the air, and the first guard’s head jerked to the side, his neck had been twisted completely backwards. His body hadn’t even realized it yet. It stood there, twitching, sword still raised.

Then it dropped.

Thud.

The second guard shouted something, "Protect the King!" and lunged, blade gleaming, slashing toward her ribs. But she spun under his strike, arcing like a phantom and appearing behind him before the sound of his blade hitting air even registered.

Then she sank her claws into his back, pierced through bone, and tore his spine out.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

I gagged.

Blood gushed, warm and thick, onto the floor. The scent of iron filled my lungs. The second guard dropped to his knees, his body a shell, limp, boneless, dead.

The third growled, rage, grief, fury. "You monster!" he roared and launched himself at her.

He was faster than the others, skilled. His sword slashed toward her throat. I thought for a heartbeat he had landed the blow.

He didn’t.

She caught the blade mid-air.

Her hand bled instantly from the silver-infused edge, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t flinch. She ripped it from his hand, and in the same breath, kicked him in the chest.

He hit the far wall with a crash, but he got up.

He should’ve run.

He didn’t.

With a roar, he charged again. This time, he shifted mid-air, claws out, teeth bared, wolf strength behind his strike.

And she...

Tore him open.

There’s no other way to say it.

She grabbed his arm, used his momentum against him, and ripped him in half at the waist with her bare hands.

His screams died in his throat as blood rained across the chamber. Bones clattered to the ground. Organs spilled out like butchered meat.

I covered my mouth, bile rising in my throat.

She wasn’t fighting.

She was massacring.

No tactics. No hesitation.

Just pure instinct. Pure death.

And she wasn’t even breathing heavily.

This was the Ghosthound Queen.

This was the creature I had heard whispers about. A myth. A bedtime terror. A demon in a woman’s body. She didn’t move like a werewolf—she moved like a force of nature. Fast, soundless, merciless. Her body a blur of violence, her black eyes wide with bloodlust.

I couldn’t breathe.

Then Kieran moved.

He slipped past the guards, grabbed a blade from the ground, and in that brief moment when she was still hunched over the third guard’s broken body, he had a clear shot.

He could end this.

He could stop her.

He raised the blade.

But his hands trembled.

She was covered in blood, her gown clinging to her skin, strands of her long hair stuck to her face. But beneath all that monstrous rage, she was still his mother.

His blade hovered in the air.

His breathing shook.

I saw it.

That flicker of recognition.

That flicker of hope.

And then....

She turned.

Her black void eyes met his glowing red ones.

There was no flicker in hers.

No mercy.

No love.

No recognition.

Just hunger.

She moved with a speed I couldn’t track. One second Kieran was raising the blade. The next, her hand wrapped around his throat, her nails digging deep, drawing blood.

And then.... she hurled him. Like he weighed nothing

His body slammed into the far wall so hard the stone cracked.

I screamed.

"KIERAN!"

His back hit the ground and dust flared into the air. I expected him to lie there broken.

But he didn’t.

He rose.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like something ancient awakening.

His coat was torn. His lip was bleeding. But he stood tall.

And then....

His eyes changed.

No longer red.

They turned darker. Deeper. A shade of crimson I had never seen before, like blood spilled in shadows, like ancient magic resurrected.

The air grew colder.

My breath hitched.

That feeling again.

That same unbearable pressure in my chest. The one that made my skin crawl and my hair stand

Kieran wasn’t just standing anymore.

He was... becoming.

He was calling on that deeper part of himself, the one forged in ascension. The one that terrified even him.

And in front of him stood the Ghosthound Queen, flesh of his flesh. Blood of his blood.

But now?

They were nothing alike.

They were monsters born in different hells, preparing to meet in battle.

The chamber reeked of blood now

Only two royal guards remained. They had stepped forward now, flanking Kieran like shields of flesh, but I could see the tremble in their hands, the tightness in their stance. They had witnessed what she did to their comrades. They knew what was coming.

And still, they stood.

Royal Guards. Warriors till death.

The Ghosthound Queen lifted her head slowly, her lips parting into a wicked grin as her gaze settled on them. Black blood dripped from her hands and down her gown. Her body was coated in gore, but she moved with the ease of a predator, light, swift, effortless.

She lunged.

The first guard barely had time to blink.

She blurred, closed the distance between them in a flash, and tore his heart out with one clawed hand. His body convulsed before it collapsed, twitching on the floor. He didn’t scream.... he couldn’t.

The other guard shouted, rage burning in his voice. "For the King!" he cried, launching himself at her with both his blades extended.

He should’ve run. But to where?

She twisted under his strike, then leapt into the air, her knees colliding with his chest. The force was so brutal I heard bones shatter. She pinned him down, and with both hands.....

She tore his face apart.

I choked.

She stood, drenched in crimson, breathing slowly, savoring the kill. Her eyes flicked up....

And landed on Kieran.

Only now did she seem to truly see him.

His aura was terrifying, radiating power, rage, restraint. Kieran in his ascended form was a force that made even me take a step back. His eyes glowed like a dying star, a deep crimson laced with shadows, rimmed with silver. His muscles were tight, jaw clenched, every movement sharp and exact.

But the Ghosthound Queen wasn’t afraid.

No.

She snarled.

Then charged.

Kieran didn’t hesitate.

He met her head-on.

The room exploded in motion.

Their bodies collided with a deafening crack, claws striking claws, flesh meeting flesh. Kieran ducked under a swipe aimed at his throat, his foot slid across the blood-soaked floor, and then he twisted, slashing with his clawed hand.

He struck her across the arm, a brutal swipe that carved through muscle and tendon, spraying black blood across the wall.

The Ghosthound Queen froze.

Her gaze dropped to her arm. The deep wound gushed, pulsing, dripping.

Slowly, her head turned toward Kieran.

Her expression shifted.

What had been hunger before.... was now rage.

A chilling, soul-splitting fury.

Her lips curled back into a snarl, her blackened eyes widened, and she let out a guttural scream that echoed through the chamber like the cry of a dying god.

And I realized...

He’d finally hurt her.

He’d actually wounded her.

But instead of weakening her....

It made her stronger.

More unhinged.

More monstrous.

And she was staring at Kieran now. not like a mother looking at her son, not like a queen at her king, but like a creature sizing up its greatest prey.

Something in her snapped.

The clash of monsters filled the chamber like thunder.

Kieran and the Ghosthound Queen moved like shadows, their bodies blurring in and out of form, claws striking, flesh tearing, growls echoing off walls. I couldn’t blink, I couldn’t breathe. The very air around them was thick with killing intent.

And at first.... they matched.

Kieran, in his ascended Lycan form, moved with frightening power. Each of his strikes was calculated, filled with raw dominance and speed. His claws shimmered with power, his movements honed by years of training and instinct. He was magnificent, a storm made flesh.

And she...

The Queen.

She was chaos.

A blur of bone-snapping force, her attacks didn’t follow form or rhythm. They were wild, unpredictable. she didn’t fight like a warrior. She fought like a creature possessed. She didn’t block, didn’t dodge, she tore through everything, including Kieran’s defenses.

A slice opened across his chest.

Then another across his side.

I felt the air leave my lungs.

She was beating him.

Kieran faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

The Queen rammed her shoulder into him and slammed him hard into a pillar. The stone cracked with the force. Kieran groaned, blood dripping from his mouth, and for a terrifying moment, he didn’t rise.

No.

No.

I had to do something.

I scanned the blood-slick floor, panic raging through me. My eyes landed on it. a silver blade, long and gleaming, still embedded in the ruined body of one of the fallen guards. The sight made my stomach churn, but I moved.

I dropped to my knees beside the body, blood soaking through my pants. My fingers closed around the hilt of the sword and yanked.

The screech of metal echoed across the room.

The Queen’s head snapped toward me.

I didn’t have time to hesitate.

"Kieran!" I cried, lunging toward him.

He looked up. face bruised, lips parted in a shallow breath.

I reached for him, arm extended, silver blade outstretched.

He reached for the hilt....

But before he could take it....

She grabbed me.

Her hand clamped down on my arm.

And ripped.

I didn’t feel it at first. There was no time to process it.

One second I was reaching for Kieran, and the next, I was weightless.

Something hot splashed across my face.

And then the pain hit.

Unimaginable pain.

I heard myself scream, but it wasn’t a sound I’d ever made before. It was animalistic. Ragged. Shattering. I collapsed, clutching the bloody stump where my arm used to be, staring in disbelief.

She had torn it off, ripped my entire arm out of its socket like it was paper.

But even as my scream tore through the air, even as my vision swam with black spots...

Kieran struck.

Roaring, he plunged the silver blade deep into her back.

Right into her heart.

The Queen’s eyes widened. Her mouth parted in shock as blood spilled from her lips. Kieran didn’t stop. He twisted the blade hard.

A final guttural sound escaped her before she crumpled to the ground beside me

The Queen, the legendary Ghosthound. was down.

But so was I.