Chapter 545

Lennox’s POV

The moment the door closed, the room fell silent.

Too silent.

I kept my eyes on the broken plate on the floor. The food Olivia made. The food she cooked with her own hands… for me. And I threw it.

My chest tightened so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I gripped the arms of the wheelchair. My whole body trembled. My heart was pounding too fast from pain and anger.

“Stupid I whispered to myself. “You’re so stupid p>

My vision blurred. Not from anger.

From tears.

I blinked hard, trying to force them back, but they came anyway. Hot. Sharp. Angry.

I hated this. I hated being weak. I hated being watched. I hated needing help. I hated the pity in their eyes. I hated how broken I looked. How useless I felt. How trapped I was inside a body that refused to stand.

“I’m alone I whispered again. “I’ve always been alone p>

My breath hitched. I slammed my fist on the armrest. The pain shot through my wrist, but I welcomed it. I needed to feel something—anything other than this emptiness swallowing me whole.

“Why My voice shook uncontrollably. “Why didn’t the Moon Goddess just let me die p>

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I covered my face with both hands and let the tears fall.

My shoulders shook. My chest heaved. I tried to breathe, but it felt like the air refused to enter my lungs.

“I can’t do this I whispered. “I can’t p>

My gaze shifted to the floor again—to the food. Olivia’s food. Her effort. Her care. Her love.

Guilt crashed into me so hard my whole body curled in on itself. I should have at least eaten it p>

I shouldn’t have wasted her effort.

Frowning, I gripped the wheelchair again and forced myself to sit upright, but my hands were shaking too much.

Another tear fell. Then another. And another.

I felt everything breaking inside me—every piece I had worked so hard to hold together.

My shoulders dropped. My head fell forward. My eyes closed tightly as more tears slipped down.

“I don’t know how to live like this,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to be this version of me p>

My hands fell limp on my lap.

For the first time since I woke up p>

I admitted it.

“I’m scared p>

The word felt heavy and foreign.

“I’m scared… and I don’t know what to do p>

I wondered how I would live being crippled and WOLFLESS. I believe the pack has heard of it, and I wondered what they must be thinking… a wolfless and crippled man can’t be their Alpha… how can I lead them in such a vegetable state? Death was better than this!

Another hot tear fell down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it off when I noticed the door opening and Annabella walking in.

Her eyes settled on me, and I knew she noticed I was crying, but she did not say anything about it. Rather, she bent down and began picking up the broken pieces of the plate.

I sucked in a deep breath and wheeled myself towards the window and stood before it as I stared at the trees far away. I wondered, will I ever go to the woods… will I ever shift to my wolf… what will become of me p>

As if sensing my thoughts, Annabella walked over and stood beside me.

“You can begin a physical therapy,” she suggested.

But I scoffed. “You are sounding as if this was an accident? This isn’t an accident. This is from the Moon Goddess, and there is nothing that can be done about it,” I spat.

Annabella was silent, as if she was thinking deeply, before she finally spoke.

“Alpha Lennox… even if this came from the Moon Goddess, it doesn’t mean you stop fighting p>

I scoffed louder. “Fight? Fight with what? With legs that don’t move? With a wolf that’s DEAD?” My voice broke on the last word, but I quickly clenched my jaw. “Tell me, Annabella… how do I fight when half of me is gone p>

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away.

“By starting with the half that is still alive p>

I turned my head sharply at her, anger burning in my chest.

“Alive? Look at me.” My voice shook. “Look at what I’ve become. A crippled man in a chair. A wolfless Alpha. A burden p>

“You are not a burden,” she said firmly.

“Yes, I am.” My voice cracked again, and I hated it. “The pack already knows, don’t they? They know their Alpha can’t shift. They know I can’t stand. They know I can’t lead.” I swallowed hard. “They must be laughing… or pitying me p>

“No one is laughing,” she answered quietly. “And no one dares pity an Alpha like you p>

I shook my head. “You don’t understand p>

She stepped closer. “Then make me understand p>

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to say it, but the words forced their way out anyway.

“A crippled Alpha is no Alpha. A wolfless man cannot lead. My life is over. My purpose is gone p>

“You can still lead,” she whispered. “Just… differently p>

“I don’t want different,” I snapped. “I want my life back. I want my legs. I want my wolf. I want the man I used to be p>

My voice broke again, and I bit down hard to stop another cry from escaping. I hated crying in front of people. It made me feel weak. Unworthy.

Annabella placed the bowl on a nearby table and stepped closer, not too close, but within reach.

“Alpha… you’re grieving. You lost a part of yourself. That pain is real. But don’t let it swallow you p>

I clenched my fists. “You think this is grief? I WISH it was grief. This is torture. Every second I sit in this chair… every time I look at my legs… every time I reach for my wolf and feel NOTHING—” My voice trembled. “I want to tear something apart. I want to scream until my throat bleeds p>

“Then scream,” she said softly. “But don’t give up p>

I looked away from her, my jaw clenched. My chest hurt. My eyes burned again, but I refused to let another tear fall in front of her.

“Alpha Lennox,” she continued gently, “you need… air. Just a little. You’ve been locked in this room since you woke up. Let me wheel you out. Just to breathe p>

“No,” I snapped quickly. “I don’t want to be seen like this p>

She didn’t argue. She only turned her head and looked around the room… as if searching for something that would convince me.

“You miss this place,” she said quietly.

I froze.

“You miss seeing your home. Your halls. Your people. You miss what you fought for p>

I looked at the window again. The trees. The sunlight. The pack I used to lead.

She was right.

I did miss it.

A lot more than I wanted to admit.

Annabella took a slow step behind me. “Just one round. If you hate it, I’ll bring you back immediately p>

I wanted to say no again… but my heart betrayed me.

I nodded once. Just once.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t celebrate. She simply placed her hands on the handles of the wheelchair with quiet respect and pushed.