(Lena's POV).
"I need you to push harder, Lena," Lucas said sharply, his arms folded as he watched me sprint the last few meters across the field.
I gritted my teeth, sweat dripping down my forehead, burning my eyes.
"I'm—trying!" I gasped, stumbling to a stop.
Lucas didn’t respond with encouragement. He just nodded curtly, his expression unreadable, jaw tight, eyes cold and focused.
My chest heaved as I bent over, hands on my knees. When was he going to apologize?
After dragging me out of my lecture like a caveman, after everything he said and did, the least he could do was say he was sorry.
But no—he only cared about the training. About getting me ready. About fixing whatever mistake he thought he had made without actually acknowledging it.
"Again," he barked.
I straighten
