Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession
Chapter 122: From afar

Chapter 122: From afar

"That’s impossible, Dr Abel," Williams said, eyes narrowing slightly, "that child... he’s not Casper’s. There’s no way. I’ve seen Casper. I know Casper very well. I could pick his face out of a crowd blindfolded. That child looks nothing like him. Not even remotely close. Not in the eyes, not in the cheekbones, not in the set of his jaw."

Williams clenched his jaw as he spoke, the muscles in his neck tightening.

"I’m certain," he continued, quieter now, but with even firmer conviction. "That child is mine."

Dr. Abel let out a long, tired sigh, the kind that seemed to deflate something deep in his chest. The more he looked at Williams, the less the doubt that Dexter belonged to him.

"You may be right," he finally said, his voice measured, almost reluctant. "I only said what I did because... well, because of what Chidera told me. But to truly know... to confirm it all for sure," he added, "you need to speak to her yourself."

Williams gave a small nod, the tight lines on his face shifting just slightly as some of the tension began to ease. "I’d like that," he said. "Let me speak with her myself."

But even as the words left him, Dr. Abel was already shaking his head, a note of refusal evident in his body language.

"Not tonight," the man said firmly, the tiredness in his voice returning, deeper now. "I’ll have to talk to her first. Her mood is something else tonight. It won’t do any good right now. It will be better if you leave it till tomorrow."

Williams frowned slightly, but after a moment, he nodded again.

Abel was right. Dera wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say at that time anyway. There would be no use knocking on that wall tonight.

At least he’d found her. That was something more than he had before. And now... he was going to do everything it would to get her back.

He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor as he made for the door, clearly ready to leave the house and retreat into the night. But Dr. Abel held out his arm to stop him.

"Wait," the older man said. "It’s late. Too late to be wandering around this town alone."

Williams turned slowly, surprised by the man’s sudden concern. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t immediately answer.

"We have a guest room," Abel continued, gesturing toward a different direction. "Stay the night. It’s not much, and we weren’t expecting company, so the place isn’t in the best shape... but it’s better than the streets."

Williams hesitated. He appreciated the gesture, but he shook his head politely.

"I’ll be fine, Doctor. I’ve survived worse than this. I can handle one night."

But the doctor wasn’t giving up that easily. He stepped closer, crossing his arms in front of him.

"You won’t get a taxi back to the city at this hour," he pointed out, his voice more insistent now. "Even if you try, none of them will come this deep into town this late. And you walking that long stretch of road by yourself? No way. I insist."

The word hung heavy in the air. Williams knew what it meant when someone insisted in this household. It meant the matter was no longer open for discussion. Dera already lectured him on it years ago. With a sigh of his own, he finally gave in, nodding slowly.

"All right," he said. "If you insist."

A faint smile touched Abel’s lips, and he turned, leading Williams in the direction leading to the room. At the end of a short corridor, Abel opened a door to a modest room, plain but clean. A single bed sat in the corner, the blanket tucked in neatly, though the room smelled faintly of disuse.

"You’ll have to manage," Abel said, apologetic. "Like I said, we weren’t expecting you. The room hasn’t been aired out in a while."

Williams looked around and nodded, stepping inside.

"It’s fine," he said. "More than enough. Thank you."

The doctor gave him one last nod before turning and disappearing down the hallway, leaving Williams alone.

***

Meanwhile, in the other end of the house, within the quiet of a softly lit bedroom, Chidera sat perched on the edge of a child-sized bed. She had a book in hand, its colorful illustrations gently reflecting the warm light from the bedside lamp. Beside her, Dexter lay tucked under the covers, his tiny face tilted up to look at her, gray eyes wide and full of curiosity as he listened with rapt attention.

"...and Evan became whole again," she read, her voice low and melodic, soothing as a lullaby. "And the family lived happily ever after."

She closed the book with a soft thump and turned to the boy with a smile that mirrored the gentle curve of his own lips. For a moment, their warmth matched, but then the boy’s expression shifted. His little brows drew together, his mouth turned down at the corners, and his voice came out in a hesitant whisper.

"Mommy?" he said, the word small, uncertain, but heavy with meaning.

"Yes, my love?" Dera replied, her voice softening even more at the familiar title.

The boy looked up at her, his eyes serious now. "Did you... did you want to kill that man? The one I saw in the living room?"

The question froze Dera in place for half a second. Her heart skipped a beat, and her smile fell away. She hadn’t expected him to ask. Swallowing hard, she quickly shook her head.

"No, no," she said gently, her voice picking up an easy cadence, trying to reassure him. "I didn’t want to hurt him, baby."

She reached out and smoothed his curls away from his forehead, searching for the right words.

"What you saw was just a... just a move. A training move. I was practicing something he taught me a long time ago. He used to teach me how to fight, back in the day."

Dexter nodded slowly, absorbing the explanation as his lids began to droop. Dera, sensing the moment of calm return, placed the book on the nightstand and stood up.

"All right, little man," she said with a fond smile. "You need to sleep now, so you can wake up early. Remember? We’re going fishing in the morning."

"Okay," the boy mumbled sleepily, already halfway into dreamland.

She pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking it around his small frame, then leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead. With a final glance, she turned off the light and stepped quietly out of the room.

But as soon as she stepped into the hallway, she stopped short.

Her uncle was standing there, waiting, arms folded like a sentinel. She frowned, confusion creasing her brow.

"Uncle? What are you doing here?" she asked, lowering her voice. "You should be preparing for bed."

Dr. Abel responded not with sleepiness, but with a calm challenge. "How can I prepare for bed," he said, "when we have a guest in the house... and we haven’t offered him any food yet?"

Dera blinked, stunned. Her voice was disbelieving, almost incredulous.

"He’s still here?" she asked sharply. "Williams didn’t leave?"

Abel shook his head. "Would you have been comfortable letting him walk out of town at this hour? Knowing the kind of town we live in?"

Dera’s expression hardened. "I wouldn’t have minded," she said coolly. "Williams is stronger than you think. He’s a werewolf, Uncle. He will survive out there."

Abel rubbed his forehead, clearly exasperated now. His voice was weary, his eyes pleading.

"This isn’t you, Dera," he said quietly. "What exactly is the problem? Why are you acting this way?"

Dera looked away, her eyes settling on a crack in the wall, something to focus on besides her uncle’s gaze.

"There’s nothing wrong with me," she finally said, voice flat. "I just don’t want anyone of his kind near me. Or my family."

Abel took a deep breath. "But you told me he was different. The only one who never treated you like you were beneath him. The only one who didn’t call you names or make you feel like a mistake. You admired him, Dera."

She didn’t respond for a long moment. The silence was loud.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, fragile in a way that betrayed the steel in her earlier tone.

"I still admire him," she whispered. "But from afar. That’s where I want to keep him now. At a distance."

She didn’t know who to trust anymore... and she’d rather keep the good memories she had of him intact, than risk losing them to a different truth.

Her uncle nodded slowly, the hurt on his face hidden behind understanding.

"All right," he said. "But at least talk to him. He came here for something serious. Something only you can understand."

With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Dera standing there, silent, lost in her own thoughts. After a moment, she turned away from the path to her room and instead opened the door to Dexter’s.

A sudden unease crept into her heart and she didn’t want to leave her boy vulnerable.