Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 121: Need Help

Chapter 121: Need Help

Callista parked the car in front of a building that read Lykon Nursing Home.

Once they got out, the three of them walked along a canopy-covered path surrounded by blooming gardens.

Despite the drizzle and the hillside location, the nursing home looked lush and peaceful, like the rain only made it more alive.

Callista gently held Renar’s clenched fist. It felt cold and faintly trembling.

The blue veins throbbing at his temple said enough. He didn’t want to be there.

"When was the last time you had a proper conversation with him?" she asked.

"I can’t remember," Renar muttered, his voice flat.

Callista halted, holding onto his arm. "Should I be the one to speak with him? You don’t have to force—"

"I’m curious," he cut in, his gaze sharp and restless. "Does he miss me or not?" He gave her a bitter smile. "Don’t worry. I’m not a kid anymore."

When they reached the nurse’s station, a middle-aged nurse greeted them with a soft smile that didn’t quite hide her concern.

"I’m glad you’ve finally come to see him in person, sir," she said as Renar signed the visitor log.

"I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need something. Can he even hold a conversation?"

"You’ve come at the right time. Professor Jarreth’s mood is good today. He always seems calmer when it rains."

Renar clenched his jaw. A sharp sting lingered.

Every step toward his father’s room felt heavier than the last. As the nurse knocked on the door, he took a deep breath.

Just as Caelum was about to follow him in, Callista stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Let’s just wait here," she ordered.

"Aren’t you curious what they’re going to say?"

"Cael!"

But Caelum slipped free of Callista’s grip and instead tugged her along, following Renar into the room.

"Just in case something happens, we’ll be right there to help," he said with a look that told her he believed this was the right thing.

He figured their presence might help Renar keep his temper in check. Besides, he wanted to see for himself what kind of condition his uncle was in.

The room fell into silence as soon as the nurse stepped out.

"Why are you here? How’s the research centre? Any problems?" Jarreth Tuffin sat behind his desk, not even bothering to lift his gaze, eyes still fixed on the mess of papers and books strewn before him.

Renar didn’t answer right away. His attention was pulled elsewhere.

As his eyes scanned the room, his brows furrowed, and his mouth hung open in disbelief.

A massive whiteboard was filled with formulas, equations, and cryptic notes—and as if that wasn’t enough, the surrounding walls had practically become an extended canvas of his madness.

Callista and Caelum were just as stunned, eyes wide, taking in the chaos around them.

Their uncle had once been a renowned professor in werewolf genetic engineering during his prime.

Caelum felt a mix of unhinged awe and reluctant admiration—that even in his unstable mental state, this man still carried those alien calculations in his mind like sacred scripture.

Renar stared at his father, who remained unfazed by his presence, still buried in his work. He clenched his jaw.

"I need to know what you did to keep my mother from dying during childbirth." No room for small talk. His voice was firm, straight to the point.

Jarreth Tuffin stiffened. He froze mid-motion and slowly turned to face his son.

That cold, glacial stare locked between them, sharp as daggers.

"Ah, no need to explain anything else. Just tell me about the priest who helped you back then. Where can I find him?"

Braak!!

Jarreth slammed the desk with a loud crack, letting out a low growl. His nostrils flared, and his nails began to extend, sharpening right before their eyes.

And just like every bad feeling that proved itself right, it happened.

Renar’s father suddenly jumped over the desk and lunged at him.

He pinned Renar down, straddling him, and his clawed fingers wrapped around his son’s throat.

The tips of those nails dug into Renar’s skin until blood trickled out. His eyes burned with pure hatred.

"Grrrr..." Jarreth growled deeper, baring his fangs.

Caelum, who had seen it coming, threw himself into the chaos, trying to pull Jarreth off Renar.

But Jarreth was already halfway into shifting into his lycan form.

With one sweep of his arm, he flung Caelum across the room. He crashed to the floor, landing hard on his chest.

Caelum pushed himself up, ready to shift, but Callista grabbed his arm.

"I don’t think we should interfere. Look, he’s not fully shifting right away."

"That’s exactly why we should stop him now!" Caelum hissed in protest.

"He won’t hold back if he really wants to hurt Renar. And... look at the boy underneath him..."

Caelum and Callista kept their eyes on Renar. His jaw trembled from the pain of his father’s claws digging into his neck.

Strangely, Renar didn’t fight back. Both of his hands lay still at his sides, unmoving, like he had surrendered to it.

"Let’s wait for them," Callista murmured, trying to persuade Caelum.

Then thunder cracked outside the window, and Renar flinched. His heartbeat quickened, and his breathing turned heavy.

Moments later, Jarreth’s growl softened. His claws and fangs slowly withdrew, and he curled his lips into a bitter smirk.

"You’re still scared of the rain?" he asked, loosening his grip on Renar’s throat. The wounds on his neck began to close.

"What do you care? Just answer my question!"

"Tch... and why do you even want to know?" Jarreth stood and paced back toward his desk, throwing a quick glance at Caelum and Callista, who were still watching him with wary eyes.

"You’re all grown-ups now. Why? Did you make some poor girl pregnant?" he sneered, tone thick with mockery.

Renar, now upright and rubbing the bruised skin at his throat, clenched his fists. But he knew his father too well—arguing with him never led to anything good.

Instead, he stepped forward and dropped to his knees in front of the desk.

"Dad, please help us. Tell me what you did. Tell me about the priest. I need your help."

His fists stayed clenched at his sides, like he was choking down what little pride he had left.