217 Homewrecker
Ronan hugged Lucien to his chest, protecting him like the most precious treasure.
‘Lulu...’
When he saw blood trickling from the side of Lucien’s head, his own blood rushed through his veins and a storm brewed in his mind.
Once the Alpha looked up, he glowered at everyone with strong murderous intent.
‘Everyone, hear my bidding,’ the Alpha ordered using Alpha Voice. ‘Investigate the root cause of this chaos and detain all those who want to attack Lucien.’
‘Yes, Alpha.’
Under the oppressive influence of Alpha Voice, Ronan’s subjects responded automatically in their minds.
Ronan’s eyes snapped toward the woman who had the guts to hit Lucien with a stone. His gaze was as cold as the water beneath a frozen lake. ‘Particularly that woman. I will take care of her myself.’
As if sensing her impending doom, the woman screeched loudly like a ghost and struggled to free herself from Noah’s grip. Her weak punches and claws were regrettably futile against a werewolf. The woman’s anguished cries were the last thing Lucien heard before his consciousness started to dwindle.
.....
‘Ronan...’
Wanting to say something, Lucien tugged at Ronan’s shirt. The Alpha turned to look at his mate, but Lucien’s body went slack in Ronan’s embrace before he managed to finish what he wanted to say.
Ronan lifted Lucien into his arms and carried him to the nearest hospital on spot, leaving the ruckus behind for his people to take care of.
Lucien was unconscious for a few hours. When he opened his eyes again, noon had passed. The person who was waiting nervously by his side was not Ronan but Noah.
The man almost cried from relief when Lucien stirred on the bed.
“Oh, Goddess! Mr. Clearwater, you are finally awake!!!”
Noah had been in a state of panic for hours. The reason for that was quite obvious. He was entrusted with Lucien’s safety for the first time in his career and the future Luna just had to be injured in his presence.
The only plausible reason why the Alpha had not skinned him alive was that he needed Noah to watch over Lucien at the hospital.
Noah did not ask where Ronan went or what he planned to do. He also did not wish to know.
Lucien was more than interested to know. Once he realized that Ronan was not around, he turned to look at Noah.
“Where am I? Where is Ronan?”
Noah only cared to answer the first question.
“You are in the Bayleef Hospital of South Bedford City. WAIT, MR. CLEARWATER!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???”
Noah pushed Lucien back to the bed when the latter tried to get up.
“I need to go,” Lucien said. “What happened back there? What did Ronan do?”
“You do not need to concern yourself with such a matter! The Alpha is going to take care of everything in your stead!”
Blood drained from Lucien’s face.
Noah’s words did not make him feel any better. A furious Ronan would unlikely ignore the whole incident. He might be doing something drastic and Lucien had to stop him before everything was too late.
“Take me to the art gallery, now,” he told Noah. Ronan was most likely there, licking his paws off the civilian blood.
The poor driver watched helplessly as Lucien pulled his quilt aside and swung his feet out of the bed. There was nothing else he could do but help the man stand before he fell from the bed.
“Hss...”
Lucien’s head was throbbing with pain. When he walked past the mirror with Noah’s support, he saw thick bandages around his head.
Stumbling on shaky feet, he changed his clothes and sneaked out of the hospital with a pale-faced Noah. While he drove, the driver prayed with every cell of his body that nothing else happened to Lucien. Otherwise, the Alpha was going to grill him alive on a pyre.
The art gallery was surrounded by a few police cars that were blinking with red and blue lights. Mr. Boyd was seen at the entrance, chatting with two policemen. One of them took notes while the other questioned the ashen-faced curator.
When Mr. Boyd caught sight of Lucien, his face turned as pale as death.
“Mr. Clearwater!!!” He shouted, closing the distance between them in a hurry. “What are you doing here? You are injured! You should stay on the bed!”
“Tell me what happened,” Lucien demanded. “What did Ronan do? What is going on here?”
“Nothing!” Mr. Boyd insisted.
The policemen behind him tipped their hats and directed their gazes at Lucien. Lucien ignored Mr. Boyd and addressed the policemen instead.
“Officers, this art gallery has my name on it. Please tell me what happened.”
The two officers exchanged curious looks, then one of them asked, “Are we speaking to Mr. Lucien Clearwater?”
“You are,” Lucien confirmed.
Noah and Mr. Boyd exchanged helpless gazes. In a way, Ronan Silverback and Lucien Clearwater were truly made for each other. Both of them were difficult to handle.
“We received a report of vandalism here at the art gallery,” the other officer said. “Mr. Boyd here is the one who made the report.”
Lucien was stunned.
“What about the ruckus that happened earlier today?”
“That one is being attended by other officers, so we cannot share any details,” the other officer answered.
“...”
Mr. Boyd took the chance to grab Lucien by the shoulder. “See, Mr. Clearwater? Nothing of interest here. Why don’t you let Noah take you back to rest? I can handle it from here.”
The mere fact that Mr. Boyd tried so hard to drive Lucien away was suspicious enough. Lucien had a bad feeling about it.
“What is the vandalism about? I want to take a look.”
The two officers exchanged glances again. Behind Lucien, Mr. Boyd shook his head fervently. Unfortunately, both policemen did not have any reason to prohibit Lucien entry. Not in an art gallery that carried his name, anyway.
Lucien was thus led to the place where said vandalism took place.
They did not have to walk far to reach the spot.
Inside the art gallery, across the glass entrance door, giant scrawny letters were sprayed with red paint and formed the word “HOMEWRECKER”.