Chapter 2: Stiletto

Words : 1534 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Take a look at Chapter 2 of "Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen": The revelation stole her breath, leaving her speechless. Her mind reeled—Karmen had always joked about... See what happens next!

The revelation stole her breath, leaving her speechless. Her mind reeled—Karmen had always joked about wanting to be a werewolf so he could be her fated mate, a silly fantasy they had laughed about in school. But that dreadful lie she heard made her already burnt chest tighten as if bound by a rough rope. She could feel Varrel's fury in the way his black eyes darkened, lightning flickering through them—a clear sign of his wolf stirring within. And in that moment, she ached for the wolf she never had. Born into privilege, an Alpha's daughter who ruled the largest pack in the countryside, she had always been raised on a silver platter. Yet tonight, the Obsidian Pack's eyes bore into her with thinly veiled scorn. Without her father's name and wealth, she was nothing—a wolfless outcast with a rebellious streak. Lethia stepped towards Karmen, but three of Varrel's Betas shifted into their wolf forms, blocking her path. "Karmen, look at me! Did we ever sleep together?" she asked. Karmen turned, his face bruised and swollen, his temple mottled with purple. Lethia could only imagine what he had suffered. "I... I love you, Lethia. I've loved you since then. I love you now." The words, spoken through bloodied lips, left Lethia gaping in disbelief. Varrel's growl deepened, his rage thick in the air. The Betas bristled, their snarls sharpening, ready to strike. "Karmen, this isn't the time for your stupid confession. Just answer my question and make it clear to them that there was never anything between us!" Karmen held Lethia's gaze for a brief, silent moment, then smiled. "Did you forget? That night? It was intense. You said the problem might be your pathetic husband, so we just went for it." His laughter rang out, echoing through the courtyard, leaving everyone bewildered. "And it turns out your husband is the real problem in your life." He scoffed, turning to Varrel with a mocking smirk. Varrel let out a feral growl, his rage boiling over as he lunged at Karmen, pummeling him without mercy. For a brief moment, Lethia thought of stopping him—but she let him be. She wanted to slap Karmen herself. 'What the fuck is going on? Why is he lying like this?' Karmen's blatant claim left her speechless, stunned by the sheer audacity of his lie—one that could cost them their life. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation and find a way out of this mess. Karmen's unconscious, bloodied body was dragged across the courtyard like a deliberate display for the pack's amusement. The werewolf clowns whispered among themselves, weaving their own assumptions, making Lethia sick to her stomach. Not a single one of them spoke in her defence. Even those who had sworn loyalty to her averted their gazes when she searched for an ally. There was no way out. Varrel had cemented his influence over the pack long before her father's death—because she made sure he did. She had no proof, and shouting herself hoarse wouldn't make these dog-clowns believe her. Should she just admit to it, beg for forgiveness, and find a way to escape later? Wiping the blood from his knuckles, Varrel strode toward her, his presence thick with dominance. Lethia watched him approach with nothing but disgust. "What will you do with him?" she asked. "Let human law deal with its own kind." "And what law will you use to deal with me?" Varrel closed the distance, his fingers reaching to caress her maroon hair. Lethia recoiled, swatting his hand away, the stench of blood making her stomach churn. "Death," he murmured, his tone almost lazy, "is the only law fit for infidelity. But..." He seized the back of her neck, his grip firm, yanking her closer. Lethia grabbed his wrist, trying to wrench free from Varrel's grip, but his strength was far beyond hers. All she could do was seethe in silence, her nails digging into his arm in a futile attempt to hurt him—an Alpha couldn't be wounded so easily. Varrel leaned in, his lips a breath away from her ear. "I need to show mercy to boost my popularity, both with the pack and the capital. And you will be my perfect example. Your life is already a living hell, though. Death would be an easy escape for a filthy, adulterous she-wolf like you," he whispered, his words deliberate, venomous. "You... You just made a mistake you'll regret, Varrel." "Will I?" Varrel let out a mocking chuckle. "I'm your wife. You should talk to me first. Trust me first. Not let others cloud your judgment!" "If there's one thing I regret, it's marrying you, Lethia." Lethia's jaw tensed, her lips trembling as she struggled to hold back the ragged breath caught in her throat. The sweet-talking husband who always praised her, the one she thought she had wrapped tight around her fingers, suddenly showed his true self. She thought there had to be more to this than just an unfair adultery accusation. Varrel released her, flashing a grin like the devil delighting in sin before striding away, leaving Lethia biting her lip—swallowing down the rage, the pain, the words that would only make things worse. Her gaze followed him as he returned to the podium. "I won't sentence you to death, Lethia. Just admit your wrongdoing and accept the rejection. I expect you to leave this pack once the divorce is final." Varrel's voice echoed across the courtyard, stirring murmurs among the pack. "But adultery is unforgivable, Varrel. If you ignore the custom, it will make you look weak as an Alpha," one of the elders called out from the crowd. "And I intend to set an example." Varrel's gaze swept over the assembly. "Death is not always the answer. More importantly, we must prove that the countryside pack alliance is not brutish. It's time we abide by the laws set by the capital. My heart still aches. My wolf still bleeds. But Lethia was... was once someone I loved dearly." He lowered his head, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Lethia let out a soft, incredulous chuckle at the performance. What a damn spectacle. "I cannot bear to see her die like this," he continued, voice thick with emotion. "She will be stripped of her status, wealth, and everything tied to this pack. She will be exiled to the mountain temple, where she can atone and find peace as a monk. Since she is wolfless, it is only right that she lives among humans, reflecting on her sins." Varrel broke into quiet sobs, and Lethia had to fight the urge to gag. Oh, God. She had created the perfect assclown. Rudolf stepped forward, placing a hand on Varrel's shoulder before turning to Lethia. "Accept the rejection and leave this courtyard, Lethia. You are wolfless—it won't break you. But for Varrel, it is hell itself." Lethia chuckled as the pack members nodded and shouted for her to accept the rejection and leave. It only proved that the loyalty of countryside werewolves was utter bullshit, just as her father had told her before his death. It was never about honour or bonds; it was about power. And this pack? Corrupt to the core. No God or Goddess could save them from the rot festering in their hearts. She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth to keep from crying, though her nose burned and her eyes welled with warmth. With slow, deliberate steps, she walked to where she had abandoned her expensive stilettos. Scooping them up, she gripped them in her hands—her heels still ached too much to wear them. Her gaze locked onto Varrel, who was still putting on his pathetic display of weeping. She thought, for the briefest moment, about searching for whatever last shred of love he claimed to have had for her. But all she found in his eyes was disdain. Disgust. She took a deep breath. "I, Lethia Ashcroft, accept your rejection, soon-to-be Clown Alpha of the Rotten Obsidian Pack, as my ungrateful mate. May your divorced life find its hellhole." A smirk curled her lips as she raised one stiletto and hurled it with full force at the obsidian crystal behind the podium. The sharp crack echoed through the courtyard, followed by hushed gasps from the crowd. Varrel, slightly unsteady from the rejection, was held up by Rudolf as he gazed blankly at the shattered crystal, the pride of their pack, their eyes snapping to Lethia in horror. She would've thrown the second one straight at Varrel's face, but attacking an Alpha was a death move, and she had no desire to be torn apart as a wolfless outcast. "And don't expect me to abide by your damn monk exile. I'll decide where I belong myself." With that, she turned on her heel, walking barefoot out of the courtyard with one stiletto still in her hand. The pack's stunned, horrified stares followed her every step.

Chapter 2: Stiletto

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