Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Lucas took a slow, deliberate look around the small but tidy apartment, nodding appreciatively. “This is nice,” he said, his voice calm. “And the view isn’t bad either.”

I forced a faint smile, the effort feeling heavier than it should. “It’s only temporary,” I replied quietly. “But it’ll do for now.”

He moved toward the kitchen, opening cabinets and peering inside. “I want to make sure you’re settled before I head out. Do you have enough food? Any medicine?”

I shook my head slightly. “Not really,” I admitted, my voice weak. “I haven’t had the chance to go shopping yet.”

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Lucas glanced down, his face tightening as he read the message. “Damn it,” he muttered, frustration and worry mixing in his eyes. “There’s an emergency at the center.” He looked torn, glancing between me and the screen. “I should stay with you, but…”

“Go,” I interrupted firmly, straightening with a wince despite the ache that ran through me. “I’ll be fine. My friend’s coming later.” The lie slipped out easily, practiced and protective. He had already done so much for me—I didn’t want him to carry any more worry.

Lucas frowned, concern still evident. “Are you sure? I can send someone else to check in—”

“Really, I’m okay,” I insisted, cutting him off.

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. I’ll check on you later, okay? Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

After he left, the apartment fell into a heavy silence that felt almost suffocating. The quiet pressed in on me from all sides.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea crashed over me, sharp and violent. I barely made it to the bathroom before everything came up—bitter herbs mixed with blood that burned my throat. My stomach clenched painfully as I retched, tears streaming down my cheeks from the sheer effort.

This must be what hell feels like.

When the vomiting finally ceased, I collapsed onto the cool tile floor, too weak to move. The coldness against my burning skin was a small relief. Inside me, I could sense my wolf retreating deeper, frightened by the alien substances invading our body.

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered to her, desperate for any sign of connection. The silence that followed was terrifying in its emptiness.

I lost track of time lying there, gathering what little strength I had to crawl back to the couch. Lucas’s words echoed in my mind: “The first treatment is always the hardest.” I had to believe him. I had to trust that this would help me survive long enough to uncover the truth.

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