Chapter 237 The Confession
Third Person POV
Aubrey only gave a softugh and made no move to resist.
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A beta warrior hurried forward with the thermometer and ced it into her hand. Under the weight of every eye in the room, Aubrey calmly pressed it to her ear, then without even ncing at the reading, handed it back.
The beta’s face shifted strangely as he checked the disy. “Thirty–six point eight. She doesn’t have a fever.”
No fever–no infection.
Nathan’s eyes narrowed, flicking from Aubrey to Henry, lingering long enough for a shadow of calction to pass over his face. Atst, he spoke. “It seems this was all a misunderstanding. I’ll report it as such. As for Ulrich–he’s yours to deal with.”
With that, he and his entourage departed swiftly, unwilling to remain. He knew full well Ulrich would not leave with him. Better to let Henry vent his rage here than to risk it spilling back into the royal court.
The banquet hall seemed to exhale, but the air only grew heavier. A storm pressed at the walls, and every wolf inside felt the tension wing at their skin.
Loch’s face was ashen. He had chosen wrongly–stood on the wrong side -and now he would bear that stain forever. “Henry, it was my fault… I trusted Ulrich. I feared the virus would consume me Pack, but I was wrong. And Ms. Aubrey…”
At the sound of her name, Henry snapped out of his frozen shock. He rushed to Aubrey’s side, pulling her tightly into his arms as if she might
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Chapter 237 The Confession
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vanish at any moment. His wound had already closed–no danger of infecting anyone now. But the thought of what she had just done hollowed his chest with terror.
His jaw locked, his body trembling with a fury that was half fear, half relief. Atst his voice broke free, harsh and deadly. “Seize Ulrich.”
Ulrich tried to flee, but Loch himself caught him without effort. The once–proud alpha thrashed like a trapped animal, and in that moment Loch realized something chilling: Ulrich’s alpha strength was gone.
He had lost it.
Fear jolted through Loch’s veins, but there was no time to question. Perry stormed in, gagging Ulrich and dragging him across the floor like a beaten cur. No one dared object.
As for Waylon, he was hauled away by Henry’s men. No one asked what fate awaited him. Whatever the Miguel family chose to do was their right alone.
In the carriage back, silence pressed between them like a third passenger.
Henry’s fists clenched, opened, clenched again, sweat shining on his brow. His lips parted, but the words stuck like knives in his throat.
Atst, Aubreyughed softly, the sound brittle, and nodded at him as though indulging a child. “Yes. I’m infected too. Now we’re truly bound,
aren’t we?”
“Aubrey!!”
Henry’s eyes widened, horror twisting his face. His voice broke, desperate, his whole body taut with panic. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t—don’t joke
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Chapter 237 The Confession
about this!”
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Part of him still clung to hope–clung to the thought that she must have taken some secret antidote, some immunity draught. There had to be an exnation.
But Aubrey, lips curving in a weary, bitter smile, shook her head. Her voice carried no trace of yfulness. “I’m not joking. I really am infected.”
“Aubrey…” Henry’s voice cracked, anguish pouring out of him. His hands mped down on her shoulders, eyes wild, begging. “Tell me you’re fine. Please. You’re not burning, you’re not weak. You <i>can’t </i>be sick! Say it— you’re fine, aren’t you?!”
For once, Aubrey didn’t deflect. She leaned into him, resting against his chest, her voice a fragile whisper.
“Did I ever tell you?”
She stifled a yawn, her eyelids lowering, her voice soft as a lull.
“My body is… different. Harmful things always take longer to affect me. The Kajit virus… is no exception.”
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