Oliver's POV
It had been four days since the shooting, and the heavy, metallic scent of the hospital wing was finally beginning to fade from my senses. Every time I shifted, the pull of the stitches in my side reminded me of Alex's betrayal. I already knew it was Alex's plot; the coward had always been envious of the crown, but I hadn't expected him to move so boldly. My men were tracking him through the dense northern woods, and it was only a matter of time before I had his head on a silver platter.
But the physical pain was a distant second to the storm brewing in my chest whenever I looked at Aurora.
