Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 144: The Swindler

Of course, Varrel didn’t want Lethia dead. He hadn’t pulled all those strings just to watch her throw her life away with a jagged piece of wood.

His jaw tightened, eyes sharp, and with a subtle tilt of his head, he gave the silent command to the oracle beside him to administer the antidote to Caelum.

In all the years he’d known her, never once had Lethia looked this broken. This defeated. Her trembling fists clenched so hard they shook, screaming how much she loathed him for what had happened to the man bleeding out on the floor.

It hadn’t even been two fucking months since she walked away from him, and yet—why? Why was the woman he knew, who was colder than ice, now trembling over some man she barely knew? Was that bastard her fated mate?

The ponytailed woman crouched beside Caelum and swirled her fingers, making the silver dagger lodged in his back dissolve into a puff of black smoke.

She muttered something in a language Lethia couldn’t grasp, her palms rubbing together until a small, glowing blue pill flickered into existence. Without a word, she slipped it into Caelum’s mouth.

["It’s the same poison and antidote they used on your body back then. Tch... but this bitch uses black magic to summon and store them in her soul space. Never thought freaks like her still existed in this century."]

Lethia heard Whisney’s rambling but didn’t bother engaging. She couldn’t afford to. Her mind was locked, focused, completely consumed by Caelum.

Every second that dragged on pounded harder in her chest, her heart thudding like a war drum as she waited for any sign... anything at all... that he was still with her.

When she moved to kneel beside Caelum, a calloused, firm, possessive grip yanked her back.

Varrel dragged her so close she could smell that damn mix of cardamom and his raw masculine scent and it made her stomach twist with nausea.

"You said you’d do anything, didn’t you?" he muttered low. "Then the first thing you do is stay the fuck away from him. You’re coming with me." His rough grip didn’t loosen as he tugged her along without a second thought.

"W–wait..." Lethia tried to resist, pulling back, but her strength didn’t even come close to matching Varrel’s.

"Varrel, wait—We can’t just leave him like that! He needs—"

"He’ll be fine." Varrel cut her off coldly.

"Toss him in front of his house. And clean this fucking place up!" he barked at his underlings like Caelum was nothing.

"Toss?! Do you think he’s some trash, you fucking prick? Varrel... Ugh!" She twisted hard in his grip, but nothing worked. He wasn’t letting go.

"Varrel! Ugh, fine! I’ll go with you, just let go of my hand, you’re hurting me!"

Varrel stopped walking. His grip loosened slowly, releasing her wrist. He knew damn well Lethia wouldn’t go back on her word now.

She sucked in a breath. "Let me at least grab my phone, would you? I can take that with me, right?"

Varrel sighed, clearly annoyed. "You don’t need it. I’ll buy you a thousand phones if that’s what you want."

The heat was crawling up her neck.

"And what the hell makes you think I want anything from you?"

He stepped closer, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her flush into him.

"You said you’d do anything. And from now on, what you want is what I allow you to want. The second you made that deal..." his voice dropped dark and possessive, "...you became mine."

Lethia’s stomach turned violently at his words. But she didn’t fight anymore. She just followed him into the car, her body stiff, her heart screaming.

As Varrel’s car went away from Terressa’s house, Lethia looked through the window and saw one of his underlings dragging Caelum’s limp body and shoving him into a black van.

Caelum was still unconscious, but the blood no longer trickled from his back, and from that alone, Lethia could tell the bleeding had stopped.

A pang of guilt gnawed at her chest. All she could do now was pray that his condition would improve.

She lowered her head, her hand gently caressing the swell of her belly. Anger still boiled hot in her skull, pulsing behind her eyes, but she didn’t even care about the dull ache that had started in her abdomen. She just hoped her pup was safe.

["Don’t worry. That pain’s just your muscles tightening. Your pup’s fine."]

’Whisney... can’t you do it again? Like before? Make a shield, or throw a dagger straight through Varrel’s heart?’

["I told you, that dome-shield thing only happened because your tears hit the red bead. No bleeding bead now. And even then, it only lasts a little while. I’m not some fucking one-stop shop where you pick your superpowers like snacks."]

Lethia drew in a deep breath. Too much had happened today—far too much for her mind to properly digest.

Her thoughts were frayed, her emotions a tangled mess. Somehow, in the midst of all this chaos, she felt oddly relieved that the fox was back. Even though she had a hundred questions lined up and ready to hurl at that smug little creature, now just wasn’t the time.

She was exhausted.

"What do you really want from me?" she asked Varrel lazily, her eyes fixed on the view outside the window.

"Tell me about your superpower."

"I can’t."

"That wasn’t part of our de—"

"Oh God, that fucking sucker deal again. Listen," she snapped, voice sharp with irritation. "Even if you torture me to death, I still can’t tell you. Why? Because I don’t have a superpower to begin with."

She lied. Or... not entirely. She knew about the power—but it wasn’t hers. And what good would it do to hand this bastard the truth?

"Don’t lie to me," he said, like some half-broken lie detector. "The oracle said there’s a hidden power filling your empty soul since you don’t have your wolf."

"Then that witch conned you. You got played by a swindler."

"Lethia!" he snapped, but she didn’t flinch.

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