Chapter 18

Lucas burst into his office with an intimidating force, startling the security guard. "What's going on here?" he shouted.

"This girl sneaked into your office," the guard stammered nervously while exposing his neck to Lucas. "We're removing her from the building immediately."

"Let go of her," Lucas snarled, causing the guard to release his grip on me instantly.

It was evident that Lucas commanded a certain level of respect within the company.

"Shana is my guest, and I don't appreciate you manhandling her like that," Lucas growled at the guard. "I think it's time for you to take a break."

Glancing down at my arm, I noticed a few bruises starting to form where the security guard had grasped me. I rubbed the tender skin gently, trying to soothe the discomfort.

Lucas seemed to catch my gesture and a flicker of concern crossed his face. His gaze swept over my body, and for a moment, I wondered if he saw me as the weak, wolfless girl I perceived myself to be.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine worry.

"I'm fine," I replied, straightening my posture to show my resilience.

Lucas didn't seem entirely convinced. "You need training. You should learn to defend yourself against people who want to harm you."

I didn't embrace the idea and involuntarily flinched at the thought. "I'm not good at training. I'm too weak. I'm just not as capable as those who have their wolves... Physical strength isn't my strong suit."

"Shana, you can't remain defenseless forever. You're bound to get hurt," Lucas insisted.

Memories of being marginalized for years flooded my mind, the pain, bullying, and constant rejection. The recollection brought a glossiness to my eyes, threatening to spill tears.

"You don't understand, Lucas. You're an Alpha wolf. The strongest kind of wolf there is. You wouldn't comprehend what it's like for someone like me—someone without a wolf," I lamented, biting my lip. "Maybe everyone is right. Maybe we shouldn't be friends. We're too different."

Lucas's frown deepened, and I could sense his desire to argue against my statement. I knew telling Lucas that we shouldn't be friends anymore would hurt him, but I didn't want him to suffer simply by being associated with me.

I feared I would only bring him more pain.

Instead of responding, Lucas pulled out his phone and dialed Grandma Jo and James, informing them that our dinner plans for the evening were canceled. I lowered my head, feeling as though Lucas's sudden change in mood was entirely my fault.

Perhaps I truly was a bad luck charm after all.

Lucas hung up the phone and barely acknowledged me. "Let's go," he said curtly.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trailing after him.

"To the hospital," he replied.

"The hospital?" I followed his lead, perplexed. "Why?"

"Because you're hurt," Lucas pleaded, looking at me with his piercing blue eyes. "You need to get checked out."

"Lucas, I'm fine!" I insisted, trying to brush off his concern. "It's just a bruise, nothing serious. It'll heal on its own in a few days."

He grasped my hand tightly, preventing me from escaping his grasp. "No, we're going," he asserted firmly.

I struggled to free myself from his grip, but his strength overwhelmed my feeble attempts.

"This is completely unnecessary!" I continued to protest, my resistance futile against his determination.

Once we were on the back of Lucas's motorcycle, silence engulfed us for the entire ride. I could sense the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through his mind. It pained me to know that I had upset him.

"Lucas, are you still upset?" I ventured, hoping for a response.

But Lucas remained silent.

"Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?" I pressed, a tinge of frustration seeping into my voice. "Because that's not very nice of you."

Once again, he chose not to answer.

Letting out a deep sigh, I decided to relinquish my attempts at conversation. If he needed space and time to collect his thoughts, I had to respect that. Perhaps he simply needed a moment to calm down and process his emotions.

When we arrived at the hospital, Lucas held my hand tightly, as if afraid I would try to escape. He guided me to the front counter and requested a simple examination for me.

Soon after, a doctor came to see us and conducted the usual checkups. As his gaze fell upon the bruises forming on my arm, his expression turned grave.

Curiosity welled up inside me, and I wanted to ask him about it, but he swiftly moved on, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

Lucas stood against the wall, his arms crossed, exuding a protective aura. "What does Shana's report indicate? Is everything okay?" he inquired.

Understanding that I was wolfless, the doctor stated rather than asked, observing me intently.

I nodded in response.

"Even for someone without wolves, you are extremely weak," the doctor continued. "Your muscles are slight, and from holding your arm, I can sense how fragile your bones are. The bruise on your arm is significant—it's already turning purple and sensitive to the touch."

I dared to steal a glance at Lucas whose expression conveyed deep dissatisfaction with the doctor's words.

“Did you quit any sort of exercises for a long time?” The doctor asked.

"Yes…I did. What can I do?" I asked the doctor, wanting to seek a solution. "Is there anything I can take?"

I frowned, feeling bewildered by all the information. Nurse Rebecca had previously assured me that I wasn't as weak as people believed, but now it seemed that I was even weaker than she had realized.

The doctor appeared sheepish, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I suppose you could exercise more, but there's not much I can do. This is just how wolfless bodies usually look like."

The doctor left the room, excusing himself momentarily, Lucas and I were left alone. If Lucas was upset with me before, he seemed even more distressed now.

Guilt consumed me for putting him in this position, and it became clear to me that he had been right all along—I was too weak to even protect myself.

Even though I had no wolf, I didn’t want myself to become a weak among the wolfless.

Lucas watched me intently but remained silent.

"You're right. I need to train myself. I can't keep allowing myself to get hurt over and over again," I asserted, meeting his gaze. "Do you think you can still train me? I want to learn."

Lucas sighed, finally breaking the silence. "All I want is for you to be safe."

"So, does that mean you'll help me?"

After a few beats of contemplation, a small smile graced his lips. "How can I say no to you?"

"Very easily," I teased, a hint of playfulness returning. "It's just a simple word."

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Lucas replied, "Of course, I'll train you, Shana. It would be my honor."

Lucas escorted me back home, and as we pulled up to my driveway, I noticed he made a move to get off the motorcycle as well.

"What are you doing?" I asked, taken aback.

"I'm going to walk you inside," Lucas said, eyeing me intently. "Is that okay?"

"No," I replied hastily, perhaps a bit too hastily. "You don't have to walk me. I'll be fine."

I worried that if Lucas saw my father, who might be home and most likely drunk, it would only complicate matters.

Lucas regarded me with suspicion but stood his ground. "I'm walking you in. Let me be a gentleman."

Unable to argue further without raising suspicions, I allowed Lucas to lead me to the front door of my house.

But just as I opened the door, the overpowering smell of alcohol permeated the air, making it impossible to conceal the truth.