Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man Chapter 161: "Run, Fool, Run"

Lucas POV

I woke up early.

Not like I’d really slept.

Even in my dreams, they were there—laughing, watching, touching. I couldn’t breathe right even when unconscious.

Who would’ve thought the monsters wore such beautiful faces?

Hot people. Models. Walking gods. That’s what they looked like. But behind those glowing eyes and sharp smiles, sothing rotted. Sothing old. Inhuman.

They didn’t even have to hide it well. We—humans—are too stupid, too desperate to be seen, to be touched, to matter, to even notice the danger.

I looked like a goddamn zombie by the ti morning ca up. Hollow-eyed. Grey. Shaky. My face was pale, eyes sunken, limbs heavy.

But I didn’t care.

I knew one thing: I would only be able to breathe again the mont I got out of this godforsaken hellhole of a place.

I’d made up my mind.

I was leaving.

No matter what.

I was halfway through stuffing the last of my things into my bag—zipper straining from how fast I was packing—when my roommate stirred.

Clark sat up, blinking through the sleep, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Hey," he croaked. "What’re you doing?"

"Leaving," I muttered without looking at him.

He rubbed his face. "What? Why?"

"I’m going ho."

Clark blinked a few tis, then sat all the way up.

"You didn’t just pass the entrance exams and get accepted into moville to run off before orientation, man," he said. "Co on."

His tone was casual—like I’d just been through a bad breakup or lost a wallet.

He thought I was bullied.

Bullied.

What happened to ... that wasn’t bullying.

That was sothing else.

Sothing no human should ever experience.

Sothing no one would believe even if I tried to explain it.

And that’s exactly why they get away with it. Why there’s always fresh at.

I crouched to grab my hoodie and stuffed it into my duffel, trying not to scream.

"You won’t believe anyway," I said. "Nobody ever does. That’s why they always get fresh at. That’s what we are to them."

Clark was more awake now. More alert. He watched closely.

"...What are you talking about?" he asked.

I looked at him, finally.

"You saw it, didn’t you?" I asked. "The ones that walk like they’ve never tripped in their lives? The ones that talk like they’re in a Shakespeare play and never blink at the right ti?"

His silence wasn’t just confusion—it was recognition.

"Didn’t you feel it?" I pushed. "The cold? The eyes? The paleness? The way the damn wind moves when they pass by like it’s bowing to them?"

Clark stared at .

Maybe scared with . Maybe of .

But he didn’t laugh.

And that was enough to give hope.

"Co on, Lucas..." he said, his voice unsure.

But I cut him off.

"You know what’s funny?" I said, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. "I knew sothing was off the mont that woman at registration slled my ID. Not scanned it. Slled it. Like it was at."

He froze.

"...She did that to too," he said quietly.

Sothing flickered between us—shared unease, maybe. Or the start of belief.

But he still sat on the bed.

Still hesitated.

"Then why the hell are you still here?" I asked him, sharper than I ant to.

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told everything.

I’d tried.

I really had.

If he wanted to stay, if he wanted to wait until one of them lured him away with a perfect face and a perfect voice and a perfect fucking smile—fine.

Let him find out on his own.

"Don’t trust anyone," I said as I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. "Especially the ones who smile too much."

That’s the thing, right?

Their smiles.

Wide. Bright. Charming.

Hiding teeth.

Hiding cruelty.

And soone like —a stupid, wide-eyed fool—fell into the trap thinking: Hey, a hot guy noticed . A pretty girl wants to show around. Lucky .

Fucking pathetic.

No more.

I was done.

First and last stop: the airport.

And may this entire place burn before I ever set foot back here.

*********

It was too early—so early the whole place was dead silent. Not a soul in sight. Just long, dark halls and an oppressive stillness that made every step echo like a threat.

I walked fast. As fast as I could. I didn’t want to be here one second longer than necessary.

The entire campus felt abandoned. Deserted. And yet, not empty.

I walked fast—faster than I probably should have—my duffel bouncing against my back with every step. I kept my head down, heart pounding, eyes locked on the floor tiles beneath my feet.

I didn’t want to stay in this place one second longer.

But the halls...

God, the halls.

They were too long. Too still. Too quiet. The kind of silence that presses against your ears like cotton. The kind you only hear in graveyards or after sothing dies.

The atmosphere felt like it had been pulled straight from a Gothic horror movie. High arched ceilings. Cold stone walls. The occasional flickering light bulb that seed to sputter only when I walked under it. Thick air, flickering lights, and shadows that seed to stretch longer than they should. Just walking through those halls made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I didn’t know if it was fear or instinct screaming at to run.

I swear the air changed the further I went. Heavy. Thick. Like the building itself knew I was trying to leave—and didn’t like it.

The layout stopped making sense.

The place itself seed to fight .

Like the university knew I wanted to escape. Like it had a mind of its own and wasn’t ready to let go. I kept turning corner after corner, passing hallways I swore I’d seen before. The exits didn’t exist—just endless corridors, like I was stuck in so kind of cursed maze.

Row after row of identical corridors, all without windows, without signs. Just doors. Hallways. A repeating maze. I swear I passed the sa painting twice—a portrait of a pale man with too many teeth and too sharp eyes.

Was the building shifting?

I stopped. My breathing was uneven.

"No," I whispered to myself. "No. You’re just scared. You’re imagining it."

I yanked out the crumpled campus map from my pocket, unfolded it, and focused. Just follow the map. Don’t look up. Don’t think.

I walked. Step by step, tracing my way with my finger. I walked blindly, one foot in front of the other, following the lines and arrows without eting the shadows around .

Once, I did glance up—and the hallway I stood in didn’t look like it was leading outside.

It looked like it was pulling deeper in.

It felt like I was heading deeper into the university. Deeper into the belly of the beast.

But I didn’t turn around. I didn’t let myself think about it. I kept following the lines on the map like they were lifelines—my last chance to claw my way out of this place.

And then—

Exit.

The sign was small, red, glowing faintly above a pair of wide wooden doors.

I froze.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe—not from fear this ti, but from a flicker of hope so strong it nearly hurt.

But even then, sothing was off. I didn’t see anyone, but I felt them. A presence behind . Watching. Following. I didn’t stop to check.

I ran.

I shoved open the doors, stumbling outside—and nearly collapsed.

Sunlight.

Real, honest-to-God sunlight.

The sky was pale orange with streaks of pink. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow across the stone courtyard and the perfectly manicured lawns. Birds chirped sowhere far off.

I had never loved the sun as much as I did in that exact mont.

I felt like crying.

For the first ti since yesterday—since the garden, since the wolves, since the blood—I could finally breathe.

I stepped forward, off the path, onto the gravel walk that led to the front entrance gates.

It was... beautiful.

Too beautiful.

The trees swayed gently in the wind. Flowers lined the paths in unnatural symtry. Everything looked pristine, peaceful, untouched.

But I knew what hid behind that beauty.

Monsters.

Predators wrapped in perfect skin and charming voices.

I walked quickly across campus grounds—so beautiful on the outside with its neatly trimd trees, flowers, and birds chirping in the early light. You’d never guess it was a nest for monsters.

I quickened my pace toward the gate. Still, I didn’t see anyone.

But I felt eyes on .

Watching.

Judging.

Waiting.

Two guards stood at the gate. Big. Ard. Dressed like military. Eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I tensed, expecting them to stop .

But they didn’t.

They just looked up and down—taking in my bruised face, my busted duffel bag, my uneven steps—and scoffed.

One of them leaned against the wall and pressed a button. The gate groaned open.

Like they’d seen this before.

Like they knew sothing I didn’t.

That should’ve been the warning.

That look.

That smirk.

But I was too relieved. Too desperate to get out.

I walked through those gates, not daring to look back, not letting myself pause.

Once outside, I nearly collapsed again. The weight that lifted from my chest was unreal.

I was out.

I was out.

Now all I needed was a cab. A ride to the airport. A ticket ho. And this—this fucked-up nightmare—would be over.

I reached for my phone, opened the ride app with trembling fingers.

Just a cab.

Just a seat on a plane.

Just...

Just let wake up from this.