_Lyla's POV_
The wind howled as we reached the medic post, carrying with it the iron scent of blood that clung to my clothes and skin. Dorian’s weight in my arms was unbearable—not because he was heavy, but because he felt too still, too cold.
“He needs help!” I shouted as the car door burst open.
Healers rushed forward, their expressions transforming from curiosity to horror.
“Alpha down!” one of them yelled, and suddenly, we were surrounded by frantic energy. There were hands reaching, voices shouting, a stretcher sliding beneath him as they pried him from my grasp.
A nurse grabbed my wrist. “You’re covered in blood—are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “It’s not mine. It’s his. Just help him, please.”
They wheeled him down the corridor, and I followed on unsteady legs until a medic hel
