I opened my eyes to find Julian's fingers gently applying a salve to my bruised cheekbone. The herbal scent was unmistakable—Dr. Samuel Thorne's exclusive healing ointment, typically reserved for Alpha families.
"This will help with the swelling," Julian murmured, his amber eyes focused on his task.
I remained still, confused by his uncharacteristic tenderness. For five years, he had barely looked at me, let alone touched me with such care.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked suddenly, his voice hardening. "I could have prevented all this. The detention center, the guards—"
Something snapped inside me. I jerked away from his touch, wincing as pain shot through my battered body.
"Are you serious?" I laughed bitterly. "Call you? After you've ignored me for five years? After you threw me to the wolves—literally—the moment Natalie whispered in your ear?"
Julian's jaw tightened. "I didn't orchestrate your arrest."
