Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession-Chapter 83: Beyond his reach

Williams stood in the corner of the hospital room for hours, silently watching Tessy. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—just kept his eyes on her with an intensity that suggested he wasn’t going to miss a single change. The beeping machines and the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, but he wasn’t paying attention to any of that. His focus was completely on her.

He wanted to help, but he knew there was only very little he could do. Also, he was waiting for the right time to step in.

Whatever was happening to her, it was happening somewhere else, far beyond the reach of medicine or machines.

A while later, he felt it.

The atmosphere shifted. At first, it was a barely noticeable change. But it grew heavier by the second. The energy in the room began to dim, and Williams instantly knew it was time.

He moved closer to the bed, his gut tightening with every step. At that moment, his eyes caught on to the marks appearing on her skin.

Cuts. Deep, jagged ones forming on her arms and shoulders. His gaze landed on the swelling bruise forming across her forehead—it looked like she’d slammed it against something solid. He knew these injuries weren’t from here. They were manifesting from somewhere else—the very place her mind had wandered.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his calm unraveling as the severity hit him.

He spun on his heel and walked out of the room quickly, his boots echoing against the cold tile floor. Daniel was a few doors down, alert as ever.

"I need you at the door," Williams said, his tone brooking no argument. "No one goes in. Not unless I say so."

Daniel gave a sharp nod. "You got it, sir."

Williams returned just as fast, shutting the hospital door behind him with a soft click. He moved to Tessy’s bedside and sat beside her, gently taking her cold, trembling hand into his.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then, with his free hand, he traced an old, glowing sigil in the air above her chest. The ancient symbol pulsed faintly with blue light before sinking into her skin. His lips parted and began to move, whispering words older than most languages. The kind of words that didn’t just carry meaning—they carried power.

As he spoke, the room began to shift.

The air grew colder. The lights flickered. Objects in the room started to tremble, then rise—slowly at first. A clipboard hovered near the foot of the bed. A chair creaked as it lifted a few inches off the floor. The water pitcher on the counter levitated, its contents rippling. Even the wires hooked to the monitors quivered like they were caught in a breeze.

Still, Williams didn’t stop. His voice deepened, his grip on Tessy’s hand tightened, and the magic grew stronger.

He reached out with his mind, searching for her through the barrier that separated this world from the one she was trapped in. He felt the flicker of her essence and clung to it like a lifeline, connecting with her through sheer force of will. It wasn’t easy. It never was. But letting her go would bring great disaster for everyone.

He stayed like that for hours, unmoving, eyes closed, his energy flowing into hers. He just held on and whispered spells into the veil, trying to hold her steady, or at least pull her back.

But no matter how hard he tried, she didn’t come back with him, instead, she slipped into a deeper, darker realm.

And that was when the connection snapped.

Williams’ eyes flew open. Every floating object in the room crashed to the ground at once. The clipboard clattered. The chair slammed back down. The monitor beeped erratically before stabilizing. He jerked upright, releasing her hand as a sharp curse left his mouth.

"Shit..." he breathed.

She was gone. Not physically—her body was still right there in the bed. But spiritually, mentally—she’d gone beyond where he could reach her. Whatever realm she had fallen into, he had no way of following.

His fists clenched as he stared down at her pale, battered face. She was still breathing, but it wouldn’t matter if she doesn’t find her way out of there soon.

And now, the only person who had any hope of saving her was Roman. If he could reach the Moon Goddess in time and come back with help, there might be a chance. But if he didn’t—

Williams didn’t even want to think about it.

If he didn’t return on time, those bloodthirsty witches would tear Tessy apart.

***

Tessy opened her eyes in a completely dark place.

It wasn’t the kind of dark that came with night or sleep. This was thick and oppressive, as if it was alive. It felt like it was watching her, pressing in from every direction. Her heart was racing, though she couldn’t feel it beating. Her breath was shallow, though she didn’t know if she was even breathing.

She tried to move. Tried to lift her arms, turn her head—anything. But her body wasn’t hers. Her legs were walking forward, step by slow step, but she wasn’t in control of them. It was like she was being pulled by invisible strings. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause, couldn’t even speak. Panic welled up inside her, but it was trapped, unable to break through.

The place around her slowly started to take shape. It was a building—at least, it used to be. Tall stone walls stretched upward into shadows. The ceiling was cracked and distant. The ground beneath her feet was cold, jagged stone. Every corridor twisted like it was alive, bending and reshaping as she passed. A strange, humming black light pulsed through the cracks in the walls, casting the only glow in this haunted place.

She could hear whispers. Not coming from anywhere specific—just all around her. They slithered through the air, sounding eerily like her own thoughts, only twisted. Wrong.

Then, ahead of her, a corridor darkened even further. She knew—without knowing why—that this was where she was going. She tried to resist, but her feet betrayed her. Her body kept moving. The darkness ahead seemed to breathe, opening up into a wide space that chilled her to the bone.

That’s when she saw them.

Figures. Six? Seven? Maybe more. All dressed in flowing black robes, hoods pulled low over their faces. They stood perfectly still, arranged in a semicircle like they’d been expecting her. Like this had all been rehearsed, and now she was playing her part.

Her body finally stopped walking, but she still couldn’t move or speak. She was frozen in place.

One of the hooded figures stepped forward, taller than the rest. The figure raised a pale, skeletal hand, and the air around Tessy seemed to tighten. She couldn’t even blink.

"Well, well," the figure spoke, voice smooth and cold, female and unmistakably cruel. "She’s finally here."

Another stepped forward, circling her slowly. Tessy could feel her presence like a shadow dragging across her skin.

"Williams nearly ruined the fun," this one said with a smirk in their voice. "But not anymore. Not here."

More figures moved subtly, barely shifting but enough for Tessy to feel the growing weight of their presence.

"She’s deeper now," a male voice said. "Far beyond his reach."

A low, chilling laugh rippled through the group, sending a fresh wave of dread down her spine.

The first woman stepped closer, lifting a single clawed finger and brushing it across Tessy’s cheek.

"Oh, how I’ll love to see his face after we’re done with you," she whispered.

Tessy’s vision blurred, not from tears—but from something darker closing in. Shadows rose from the ground like smoke, curling toward her like hands.

The shadows had barely finished curling around Tessy’s feet when the ground beneath her began to rumble. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the floor, and then, without warning, thick vines burst forth from the cracks in the stone like serpents unleashed. They moved with terrifying speed, snaking toward her with purpose.

Before she could even think to resist, one coiled tightly around her right wrist, yanking it up with a force that nearly dislocated her shoulder. Another latched onto her left wrist, pulling in the opposite direction. Her legs followed next—one vine snapping around her ankle, then another, until she was completely bound, suspended in the air like prey caught in a predator’s web. The vines pulsed with a sickly green light, as if feeding off her panic.

She struggled, twisting, but the more she fought, the tighter they gripped. The pressure was unbearable, the bark-like texture cutting into her skin as if the vines themselves were made of thorns. Her body was stretched and suspended, trembling midair, completely at the mercy of the strange magic surrounding her.

Then, as if summoned by her fear, the ground before her split open. From the gaping stone wound rose a long, flat table made of black, gleaming obsidian. It looked ancient, etched with symbols and writings that pulsed dimly, humming with power that made her skin crawl. The surface was cold and impossibly smooth, and it exuded the kind of magic that didn’t just bind the body, it shackled the soul.

The vines began to move again, slowly lowering her toward the table. Her heart pounded as her back touched the cold surface, and before she could even scream, the vines wrapped around her again—this time strapping her down, anchoring her limbs to the table’s corners. Her arms were spread wide, her legs restrained, her head forced still by a vine curling beneath her chin. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Every inch of her was held down, trapped.

Above her, the hooded figures watched in silence. No one stepped forward. No one needed to. Not yet. The ritual had just begun.