Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession-Chapter 100: Where is she?

Charlotte pushed herself slowly off the chair, her bones creaking in protest as she rose with a deliberate kind of slowness that made Williams grind his teeth.

Her wrinkled hands gripped the edge of the armrest for balance, her joints stiff from age and time, but there was a grace to her, an unhurried elegance that only came with years of holding power and wielding it wisely.

Dust floated lazily in the beam of sunlight filtering through the lone, cracked window, settling softly over old furniture and timeworn rugs.

Charlotte began to walk, each step as slow and deliberate as a metronome set to its lowest tempo. She moved toward a worn-out bookshelf that had clearly seen better days. Its edges were chipped, some of its shelves bowed in the middle from the weight of ancient tomes and dusty potion bottles filled with murky liquids. A faint scent of dried herbs and old parchment clung to the air like a second skin, mixing with the earthy aroma of burning wood.

Charlotte reached the shelf and raised a trembling hand, letting her fingers glide over the spines of the books, pausing occasionally as if listening for the whisper of the one she sought.

Williams watched her, his back tense against the stiff chair he sat in. Impatience gnawed at him like a persistent flame, flickering brighter with each passing second. His jaw was tight, his fingers curled into his palms, but he forced himself to stay still.

He knew better than to rush her. Charlotte may have been old, but she was no fool. She could smell urgency like blood in the water. And worse, she’d use it against you. She didn’t need to say anything to break you; she only needed to sense your desperation. And she had sensed his. That much was clear from the exaggerated slowness of her movements, the way she dragged every gesture out as though savoring his discomfort.

She finally found the book, a thick, worn volume bound in cracked leather, its spine darkened from years of handling. With a satisfied hum, she pulled it from the shelf, cradling it as though it were something sacred, and turned to make the slow trek back to her seat.

Williams wanted to scream. The seconds felt like hours, his heart drumming against his ribs in barely-contained frustration. He needed answers. But Charlotte was a master of time, of tension. She sat back in her chair with a soft exhale and nestled the book onto her lap.

But instead of opening it, or even addressing the reason Williams was here, she shifted her full attention to him, her milky eyes fixed on him with unnerving precision. There was power in her gaze.

"You know," she began, her voice rough like parchment scraped against stone, "when I heard that you used the spell which split your core power in half, I was shocked to the bone." Her voice was slow, deliberate, each word sharpened to pierce. "And I wondered who it was that was worthy enough to receive such a sacrifice... from one of the most powerful witches of our time."

Williams’ pulse spiked. Her words sliced through his composure, sending tremors of unease through him. He tried to maintain a neutral expression, but it was hard—damn hard—when every syllable she uttered felt like it was dragging up buried emotions he hadn’t been ready to confront. The way she said "sacrifice" made his chest tighten. It was like she already knew. Like she was toying with him.

"I prayed to meet this person one day," she added, her lips curling faintly as if she tasted his anxiety like sugar on her tongue.

Williams clenched his jaw, swallowing down the desperate urge to speak. Every fiber in his being screamed for her to just say the name. Say it and end the torment. But Charlotte wasn’t done with her game. Not yet.

"Now when I met Caramel," she continued, her gnarled fingers finally flipping open the book in her lap, "I knew there was something about her." Her tone softened, becoming almost thoughtful. "But when she kept walking away in sadness every time your name was mentioned..." She turned another page slowly, as though time itself bowed to her whims. "I began my findings. Only to realize that my prayers might have been answered. And I might’ve found the one whom the almighty Williams Xander found worthy of giving half of himself to."

She paused then, both her hands and her words still. The room grew impossibly quiet. Even the wind outside seemed to still, as if holding its breath. Then, with a quiet rustle, she slipped something from between the pages—a photograph, aged but carefully preserved—and extended it toward Williams.

"Your heart chose right, Williams," she said, her voice low but sure. "But your battles are not few."

He took the photo from her weathered fingers. The moment his eyes landed on the image, his breath caught in his throat. His heart surged wildly and violently, with a whirlwind of emotions: shock, relief, wonder, and something deeper. Something sacred.

Beautiful, multi-colored braids that tumbled down to her waist in vivid hues—teal, copper, indigo, and rose—each one woven with tiny beads that shimmered in the light. Her skin was smooth, rich caramel that seemed to glow with warmth. Her eyes—God, her eyes—were like pools of honey, deep and golden, glinting with laughter and secrets. And her smile... that smile could melt glaciers. It was soft, kind, and heartbreakingly beautiful. Even in a still image, her essence radiated outwards, shaking him to the core.

"Dera," he whispered, the name escaping his lips like a vow, soft and reverent. It wasn’t just a name—it was worship, laced with awe.

"Yes, Dera," Charlotte echoed with a slow nod. "That was her name. But Casper never allowed any one of them to go by their names. He gave them new names." Her voice turned bitter at the mention of Casper, but she didn’t linger on the thought. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Williams raised his eyes to her, his expression tight. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice firm but raw, teetering on the edge of hope and dread. He needed the answer now. Every second that passed felt like another chisel blow carving away his resolve.

But Charlotte, as always, didn’t grant wishes on demand.

"You shouldn’t be in too much of a hurry, Williams," she said, leaning back into her chair as though she were discussing the weather. "Sometimes you just have to take it slow, and you will receive clarity." She exhaled deeply, the breath rattling in her chest like the wind passing through old branches. "You young folks are always running. Especially you."

He leaned forward, urgency tightening his every word. "I have a lot of things to attend to, Charlotte. That’s why I’m in a hurry. Things will go bad if I stay in one place for too long."

Charlotte closed her eyes, her fingers steepled against her chest. Another long, weary sigh escaped her lips. "There is nothing you can do to stop things from going bad today."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

She didn’t open her eyes as she spoke, her voice suddenly low and grim. "Casper is one step ahead of you. The last ingredient to complete the Sirioni spell is hidden inside of the king’s mate. If anything happens to her, finding Dera becomes useless... and Casper becomes undefeatable."

Williams stiffened, his eyes widening in shock. His mind spun. No one had ever figured out the last ingredient. It had been a mystery for centuries, lost to time and rumor. Yet here she was, stating it like a matter of fact.

"How did you know about this?" he demanded, leaning forward, needing to know she wasn’t just spinning fables.

Charlotte slowly opened her eyes. They bore into him with chilling clarity. "I am not a child, Williams. And I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t believe the witches would be in extreme danger should Casper win." Her voice had gained a fierce edge now, her frailty replaced by something iron. "I have seen what he is capable of. I know the danger he poses. He is using the witches now to gain power, and they are foolishly playing his game."

She leaned in slightly, her voice turning cold. "He will squash them all like cockroaches once he gets what he wants."

Williams stared at her, the weight of her words pressing down on his chest like a boulder.

"If you ever find yourself in a situation," she continued, "where you have to choose between something else and saving the queen’s life... pick the latter."

The silence that followed was thick, trembling with unspoken dread.

"You didn’t tell me where to find Dera," Williams said again, his voice quiet but firm. "Where is she, Charlotte?" he asked, his patience worn to the thinnest thread.

And yet, true to her nature, Charlotte offered no answer. Only the slow, knowing rise of her brow as the fire crackled in the hearth behind her.

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Chapter 100. Please take some time to leave a review. Thank you. XOXO