By the time I arrived at the hospital mentioned in the report, I had already taken off my wedding gown. I folded it carefully and left it in the backseat of my car. I couldn’t bring myself to walk into that place dressed as a bride whose groom had never shown up.
The hospital corridors carried the faint scent of antiseptic and metal. My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I searched for him, ignoring the curious glances from the pack nurses. They probably recognized me—the bride who had been left alone at the altar.
“Alpha Xavier?” I asked the nurse stationed at the front desk.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Room 207, Miss Nightwood.”
“Thank you.”
My heartbeat quickened with every step toward the room. I wasn’t sure what I expected—perhaps he was injured, perhaps there was a reasonable explanation that would ease the tightness in my chest.
But when I reached the door and peered through the small glass window, the ground seemed to shift beneath me.
He stood beside the hospital bed, holding a woman in his arms.
And I recognized her instantly.