Julian's POV
I carried Aurelia's unconscious body down the hallway, her slight weight feeling oddly right in my arms. Blood from the cut on her hand trickled down her arm, staining my shirt. I didn't care.
My mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The wild accusations she'd hurled at Natalie. The knife she'd brandished. The desperate, feral look in her eyes.
"Alpha, the medical den is this way," Dr. Thorne called out from behind me.
I ignored him, continuing toward the main wing of the pack house. Each step away from Natalie felt like a betrayal of the woman I'd chosen, yet each step with Aurelia in my arms felt strangely like coming home.
Dr. Wesley Harris met us at the entrance to the medical den, his eyes widening at the sight of Aurelia's limp form.
"What happened?" he asked, gesturing toward an empty bed.
"She attacked Natalie," I said, carefully placing Aurelia down. The words felt wrong in my mouth, like I was betraying her somehow. "She cut her own hand in the process."
