Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man Chapter 150: Blood Cult

Clark POV:

I promised myself I’d never step foot in that ghost‑town again. Every gust of wind past broken windows chills . Every silent alley whispers of sothing... cursed. I needed distance from it all. When Sara said she was heading back to her dorm, I took the chance to stumble my way back to my room, hoping for rest before tonight’s fresher bash—or at least a quiet mont to find Lucas and demand answers.

This campus is built like a labyrinth. Every hallway branches off into another. Every door looks identical, every sign misleads. My heart beats faster with every wrong turn as if the walls themselves are out to confuse . Corridors branch off into identical hallways. Doors look the sa. Every turn makes feel one misstep from being lost forever.

I paused at a deserted wing—long hallway, flickering overhead lights, no sign of life. Silence so heavy it pressed against my head. I thought I heard soft breathing ahead—just when a scream sliced through the air like a blade. It froze .

A girl’s scream. So filled with terror it felt like her soul was tearing apart. Every instinct scread stop, but human decency—or stupid curiosity—drew closer to the classroom door.

I pressed my ear to the cold wood. Her cries twisted, from panic to sothing unhinged—moans that made my stomach coil. I shook my head—didn’t want to listen—but sothing darker inside pushed to look.

I forced myself to peek through the upper glass pane. Light from inside hit the scene: a girl sprawled face down on what must’ve been a teacher’s desk, her limbs unnaturally still. Around her, three figures lood—two with dark hair I couldn’t clearly see, One was kissing her neck. But there was no tenderness—just darkness, the other one was between her legs kissing I think her inner thigh, and the third one a blonde whose jaw and posture cut through my bones. The blonde bent over her the third—the one I’ll never forget—gripped her wrist, head bent swiftly. At first, I thought he was kissing it—but then, rippling crimson dripped from his jaw. This wasn’t affection. It was feeding. His jaw glistened with blood. Was it his or soone else’s?The others hovered over her thighs—moaning—a distorted hunger twisted on their faces.

My breath caught. My heart thudded. This wasn’t cruelty—it was a carnage masquerading as... ritual? Their enjoynt sent ice through my veins.

Then, the blonde shifted. His head turned toward the door—almost as if he slled even before seeing . Panic steered back, too slow—he was going to catch .

Suddenly, a large hand slamd over my mouth. I tumbled backward, crashing against a chest so hard I nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. Everything spun. I gasped silently into strong muscle until the pressure softened. They say curiosity killed the cat. At that mont I knew—they were right. This is where I’d die.

I tried to scream but couldn’t. A hand pressed into my back—firm, commanding. I thought: they’re finishing here.

Then ca the voice I recognized from before—the voice of that senior who had almost caught hacking into the university syst about the Wi‑Fi security. Slow and cold:

"I told you, kid—this place doesn’t like loners."

He hadn’t even looked at the scene. He’d pulled to him shielding ? Or hiding sothing more dangerous. His body was rigid. His arms locked gently but unwaveringly. His presence... it chilled .

"You’ve got a very... peculiar scent, kid," he murmured so softly only I heard—then eased backward, holding like a frightened child whose parents promised safety.

My mind reeled. Was he sniffing ? As if I was the prize? The man behind remained expressionless, uneasy. His grip loosened, but he kept pinned against his chest. I could hear my own heartbeat hamring.

I froze. Was he going to do what they just did? Drain ? The girl’s moans echoed in my mory. Blood pulsed hot through my ears. Then the door swung open fully—and the blond returned: jaw stained, lips crimson, and sharp pale features lit by fluorescence. If not for the blood, he’d have looked like a runway model. Now he looked predatory, satisfied, amused.

"Reed," he said, with that sa haunting smile—"I see you’re already hunting."

I spun my head slightly. The sa blonde I spied earlier stood fully revealed: pale skin that contrasted with deep red stains on his lips and chin, blood still dripping. If it weren’t for the gore, he might have looked like a male model. There was a smile—cold, amused, hungry.

That predator looked right at —smiling. I didn’t breathe.

Before I had ti to process, the man holding shifted his head slightly. His hand eased from my mouth and gently curled around mine, like a parent guiding a child. I was still reeling, but he said just one sentence:

"Sorry for disturbing you guys."

Then: "Co along, kid." He guided away from the door—or maybe away from the mory itself.

Every step was dizzying. My legs trembled. Did I flee, or was I being led into sothing worse?

Every nerve in my body scread. I’d left the classroom door behind, but the scream remained squeezed in my mind. Was the girl alive? Where was Lucas? Why was Reed—Reed—leading instead of stopping the others?

I stumbled past doors etched with unfamiliar numbers, through dim corridors lit by flickering fluorescents. Each hum sounded like a heartbeat counting down.

Reed didn’t speak again. He held my hand—with a strength I didn’t expect. His fingers were cold. We passed intersections. Shadows lengthened.

Sothing heavy followed my chest—a dread that we weren’t walking toward safety but deeper into unknown territory.

Eventually, he ca to a wide stairwell. He kept pulling downward, past levels I hadn’t seen in the registration maze. The scent of antiseptic and must assaulted . Each footstep echoed loudly in the emptiness.

I glanced back once. No sign of Sara’s group. No lights from dorm windows. No Lucas. Only the faint trace of screams that had morphed into gurgles and silence.

Every step felt surreal. The sll of damp carpet invaded . Darkness pressed close. Reed didn’t speak. He just walked, hand firmly in mine.

We passed dozens of silent doors. The hallway felt alive—walls seed to breathe. Every corner whispered threats. I strained to look back—expecting lights, bodies, or chaos. Nothing. Only Reed, calm, guiding forward.

We walked past old offices with doors ajar—papers scattered, strange stains. Sothing darker stained their floor. I kept walking, fearing each doorway—but unwilling to run.

Then ahead, a sudden light: a plush lounge I hadn’t known existed. Warm lamps. But sothing was off—like a plush den obscured in shadow.