Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 147: Grief

Lethia gasped, her eyes blinking rapidly as Varrel’s tongue forced its way into her mouth. Her lips parted unwillingly under the cruel grip on her cheek.

Both her hands slammed against his shoulders, trying to shove him off in a futile, panicked attempt. But Varrel’s other arm was already wrapped tight around her waist, possessive and immovable.

Her head spun. Nausea surged in her gut as she twisted her tongue, trying desperately to dodge his. Her eyes welled up, the sting of disgust rising hard in her veins. She was furious and cursed every vile suck from his filthy mouth.

When her pushes failed to make him budge, she bit down on his tongue—hard.

Varrel let out a pained grunt and immediately jerked away, breaking the kiss and pulling back with a sharp hiss.

Without missing a beat, Lethia shoved him off and slapped him across the face, so loud it snapped through the car like a whip. It still wasn’t enough. She raised her hand again, ready to land another one, but Varrel caught her wrist just in time.

Her chest heaved, breath hitching as she yanked her arm back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, trying to scrub off the contamination.

Her brimming eyes, broken with helpless tears, glared at Varrel, who winced and clutched his mouth. Good. She was certain his tongue was bleeding from the bite.

She tasted metal in her own mouth, bitter and vile.

And when he dared turn back to look at her, she spat right in his face. Spat like she wanted to purge the defilement, throwing it back at him.

But the bastard only smirked.

That damn smirk sent her rage boiling straight to the crown of her head.

"You... You’re a fucking monster, Varrel!" she shouted, voice full of defiance, but her trembling hands and the violent shudder wracking her body showed the fear creeping into her bones.

Varrel wasn’t just playing around.

What he did just now was proof that he could go further; he would go further. He was capable of something darker. Something more brutal. Something Lethia wasn’t even ready to imagine.

Lethia had to be more careful now; she couldn’t risk pushing Varrel into losing control again.

"You... If you ever touch me like that again, I won’t hesitate to end my life." Her voice trembled, but the threat was real.

Varrel, still rolling his tongue inside his cheek, just smirked and looked at her with a disturbing intent.

"Oh, sweetheart, I’m really sorry. You’re just so damn irresistible, I can’t help falling harder every second." His fingers trailed slowly along the side of her hair, making Lethia flinch her head away from his touch.

"But don’t worry," he added, lips curling into a dark grin, "it won’t happen again. Because soon... you’ll be the one begging me to wreck you."

Lethia bit her lower lip, seething with rage. His words made her stomach twist with a sick mix of disgust, fear, and pure revulsion.

She tore her gaze away from him and looked out the window, only to realize where they were. The summer house mansion. The Ashcroft family’s estate.

She knew that house by heart. And yet, instead of feeling relief at returning to her father’s favourite place, her chest pounded with dread.

Because there was no way—not even Zeran—could find her here. Not with the kind of security this mansion had wrapped around it.

A chilling wave of fear crept into her thoughts, tightening her chest.

She was completely alone in this battle.

***

"Why isn’t he waking up yet?" Callista asked in a panic as Renar channeled his healing energy into Caelum’s limp body, lying weakly on the hospital bed, tubes of oxygen and IV lines strapped across his pale skin.

Renar let out a heavy sigh. "The poison’s been neutralised. But he lost too much blood."

"No, Renar! Blood loss doesn’t explain why he’s still unconscious like this!" Callista’s voice cracked, teetering on the edge of collapse.

"But that’s all the tests show..."

"Then do another fucking test, would you? You’re good at that, aren’t you? Just make my brother wake up, please."

Her sobs finally broke loose, and all Renar could do was hold her in his arms, trying to steady the tremble in her body. But even he couldn’t understand why Caelum hadn’t woken up yet.

By now, his blood production should’ve stabilized, but it didn’t. No matter how many transfusions or healing techniques he used, the results said the same thing: blood loss.

And yet there was no sign of bleeding. Not externally. Not internally. No trace of where it was going. Could it be... something beyond science?

Renar’s own body had been wracked with a searing pain earlier in the lab, right when he’d begun designing the red moonstone prototype. And not long after, Callista had called hysterically, saying she’d found Caelum lying unconscious, covered in blood, in front of their house.

Alone.

The man who was supposed to be with Lethia... was alone.

Renar’s chest tightened for Caelum. His heart broke for him. But at least he was here—alive.

But where the hell was Lethia?

The thought clawed restlessly through his mind. She was nowhere to be found. And that silence... that emptiness... drove him mad.

The search and rescue team, using the GPS signal from Caelum’s car, found the vehicle wrecked at the bottom of a ravine near the countryside border, just before reaching Ashcroft Ranch.

The van that had accompanied him, with all Zeran’s six elite bodyguards, lay in ruins beside it. But even Satan would laugh if they truly believed those bodyguards had died from simply falling off a cliff.

And with Caelum dumped in front of his house like worthless trash, it became clear, something far crueler had happened.

The fact that Caelum returned alone was no accident. It was a warning. A fucking message to the Tuffin family.

A warning that Lethia was in danger.

A knock on the door snapped Renar from his thoughts. He gently let go of Callista and opened the door to find his assistant standing outside, her face drawn with worry.

"Sir, you need to come with me."

"What happened?"

The assistant gave a discreet nod toward the waiting room. Renar turned and caught sight of a familiar face, and she wore a terrified expression.

He rushed toward the woman, startled by the fading bruises on the corner of her mouth.

"You... what’s your name again?" Renar squinted, trying to remember.

"That’s not important right now." The woman lifted her chin, lips trembling. "We need to save her. My queen... Lethia... she’s... she’s in danger right now. Because she’s with her ex-husband." Her voice cracked under the weight of fear and grief.

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