The wolfless Doctor

Chapter 3

The dorm room they assigned her was small, simple—but it was hers. No whispers followed her into its walls. No expectations weighed on her beyond what she chose to carry.

For the first time in her life, Donna stood on the edge of something that belonged entirely to her.

Not the pack.

Not her past.

Her.

And she intended to make it count.

From that day on, everything had a countdown.

Two months.

She worked more. Took on every task they threw at her—cleaning, hauling, errands no one else wanted. They thought she was finally accepting her place.

They were wrong.

Every coin she earned, she saved.

Every insult, she ignored.

Every day, she got closer to being free.

It happened three weeks before she was meant to leave.

Donna was in the outer forest, gathering herbs—another task no one else cared enough to do—when she heard it.

A sound.

Low. Strained.

Not animal.

Not human, either.

She followed it before she could think better of it.

The scent hit her first blood.

Fresh.

Too much of it.

Donna pushed through the undergrowth and froze.

A wolf lay crumpled at the base of a tree, body twisted unnaturally, breathing shallow and uneven. Dark blood soaked into the earth beneath him.

Not from her pack.

A stranger.

Her instincts—whatever human instincts she had—kicked in at once.

Assess. stabilise. Act.

“Hey,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him. “Stay with me.”

His eyes flickered open, unfocused, then sharpened slightly as they landed on her.

“…pack?” he rasped.

“No,” Donna said. “But I can help you.”

He let out a weak breath. “Doubt that.”

“Then you can die,” she replied evenly, already tearing fabric from her sleeve to press against the worst of the bleeding, “or you can let me try.”

That got his attention.

It took everything she had.

Knowledge from textbooks. Improvised tools. Steady hands she did not realise she possessed until that moment.

The bleeding slowed.

His breathing steadied.

He did not die.

Donna sat back on her heels, exhaustion hitting her all at once.

“I told you,” She muttered.

The wolf—man, now, as the shift partially receded—studied her with a strange intensity.

“You’re not wolfless,” he said.

Donna stiffened. “I am.”

He shook his head slightly. “No wolf… maybe. But not useless.”

She almost laughed at that.

By the time she got back, the pack had noticed she was gone.

Questions turned into accusations quickly.

“Where were you?”

“What were you doing?”

“Who gave you permission to leave the boundary?”

Donna stood there, dirt-streaked, and exhausted, and for the first time in years…

She did not feel small.

“I was helping someone,” she said.

A scoff. “Of course you were. Playing human again—”

“I saved his life.”

That shut them up.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

That night, Donna packed the last of her things.

Not much to take. She had never owned much to begin with.

The acceptance letter. Her laptop. The money she had saved, and her money left by her late parents

Her future in five days she was leaving the pack and her old life she could not wait.

She did not understand it at first.

Just a pull—sharp and sudden, like something inside her had found its missing piece. It hit her in the middle of the clearing, where the younger wolves were sparring under the watchful eyes of the Trainers.

Her breath caught.

Her pulse quickened.

And then her gaze locked onto him.

Nolan.

The Alpha’s son.

He stood across the clearing, taller than most, stronger than all of them. Even at eighteen, there was no question what he would become. Power clung to him like a second skin—confidence, dominance, the kind of presence that made others step aside without thinking.

He felt it too.

Donna saw the exact moment it hit him.

His body went still. His expression shifted—not to wonder, not to curiosity.

To disbelief.

Then disgust.

The clearing went quiet.

Wolves noticed things like this. The air itself seemed to tighten, anticipation rippling outward as Nolan began to walk toward her.

Slow. Deliberate.

Donna did not move.

Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone could hear it, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground.

Mate.

The word echoed in her mind, foreign and fragile.

Nolan stopped a few feet in front of her.

Up close, the look on his face was worse.

“You?” he said.

Not a question. A judgment.

A few snickers broke out behind him.

Donna swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “It’s the bond.”

“I know what it is,” he snapped.

His eyes dragged over her—taking in everything she already knew he saw. No wolf. No strength. No value.

“Of all the wolves in this pack…” he muttered, almost to himself.

“I get you.”

The laughter grew louder.

Donna felt it press in on her from all sides.

But she did not look away.

Nolan stepped closer, his voice rising just enough for everyone to hear.

“You’re my mate?” he said, like the words tasted bad. “You’re nothing.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“You’re weak.”

Each word hit like a strike.

“You’re wolfless.”

Donna’s hands curled slightly at her sides, but her face stayed calm.

“And I’m supposed to be tied to you?” Nolan scoffed. “No.”

He straightened, his voice cold and final.

“I reject you Donna Lang as my mate and Luna.”

The words landed heavy in the air.

“You are nothing to me,” he continued, his gaze hard and unyielding. “Nothing, Donna.”

Silence.

The kind that waits—for tears, for breaking, for collapse.

Everyone expected it.

They always did.

Donna looked at him.

Really looked.

At the boy who would be Alpha. At the power he held. At the bond that was supposed to mean something—something rare, something unbreakable.

And felt… nothing only Clarity.

Her voice, when it came, was steady.

“I accept your rejection Nolan Deeks as my mate.”

Nolan fell to his knees the pain crippling him. His wolf was clawing at at him inside him trying to rip through him.

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd.

That was not how this was supposed to go.

Nolan looked up at Donna in disbelief. She was not in pain like him. He did not think he never did and then in disbelief he just blinked, just once.

Like he had not expected that.

Like, for a split second, something in his control had slipped.

Donna did not wait.

Did not argue.

Did not cry.

She turned.

And walked away.

Behind her, the clearing stayed silent.

No laughter this time.

No whispers.

Just the faint, uneasy shift of something no one quite understood.

Because the wolfless girl—the useless one, the nothing—

Had not broken.

Donna did not chase him.

Did not beg.

Did not fall apart.

She just kept going.

Even if no one wanted to admit it.

Because for the first time, people did not just see what Donna lacked.

They saw what she did not need.