**Tristan's POV**
The ambulance siren wailed as we raced through the night, each minute feeling like an eternity. Aurelia lay motionless on the stretcher, her skin nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights. Paramedics worked frantically around her, attaching monitors and inserting IVs.
"Her pulse is weak but stable," one of them said, glancing at me with concern. "You got to her just in time, Alpha."
Just in time. The words echoed in my head as I stared at her still form. Her wet hair was plastered against her skull, her lips still tinged with blue. She looked so small, so fragile—nothing like the fierce woman I'd glimpsed beneath her grief.
"Will she make it?" I asked, my voice rougher than intended.
The paramedic's expression remained carefully neutral. "She's fighting."
But was she? I'd seen the look in her eyes at the bridge before she jumped. That wasn't the look of someone ready to fight. That was surrender.
