Chapter 122

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Lillian stepped onto the campus quad. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack, the weight of her textbooks grounding her. The morning sun cast long shadows, painting the world in hues of gold and amber.

She hadn’t slept well.

Images of Donovan’s cold smirk and Evelyn’s triumphant gaze haunted her dreams. The rejection still stung, a raw wound beneath her ribs. But today, she refused to let it define her.

"Lillian!" Beatrice’s voice cut through her thoughts, bright and cheerful. Her best friend bounded toward her, auburn curls bouncing with each step. "You look like you wrestled a ghost and lost. What happened?"

Lillian forced a smile. "Just a rough night."

Beatrice looped an arm through hers, steering her toward the coffee cart. "Well, caffeine fixes everything. And maybe some gossip." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Oliver told me Sebastian’s been asking about you."

Lillian nearly tripped. "What?"

"Mm-hmm. Apparently, the great Lycan chairman has been subtly inquiring about your schedule." Beatrice smirked. "Very unsubtly, according to Oliver."

Her pulse jumped. Sebastian Blackwood—powerful, enigmatic, and entirely out of her league. The man who’d saved her from humiliation at the gala, whose presence alone made her skin prickle with awareness.

"Why would he—"

"Because he’s into you, obviously." Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Even Nathaniel noticed, and he’s denser than a brick."

Lillian’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to argue, but a familiar laugh froze her in place.

Donovan.

He stood near the humanities building, arm slung around Evelyn’s shoulders. They looked like a perfect couple—golden and untouchable. Evelyn’s gaze locked onto Lillian, her lips curling in a smirk.

Look what you lost.

Beatrice squeezed her hand. "Ignore them. They’re not worth it."

Lillian inhaled sharply. "I know."

But the ache in her chest said otherwise.

Then her phone buzzed. An unknown number.

Meet me at the oak grove. 7 PM. —S

Her breath hitched.

Sebastian.

Beatrice peeked over her shoulder and gasped. "Is that—?"

Lillian snapped her phone shut. "No idea what you’re talking about."

But her traitorous heart raced.

What did the Lycan chairman want with her?

And why did the thought send a thrill down her spine?

"Nathaniel?" I asked after what felt like an eternity of silence.

He blinked rapidly, clearing his throat before meeting my gaze with that boyish grin of his—the one that made girls swoon.

"I like you, Lillian," he blurted out, making my eyebrows shoot up. "No—I really like you. I think... I could fall in love with you."

My heart plummeted. Any woman would kill to hear those words from Nathaniel Whitlock. With his tousled dark hair, sharp jawline, and that effortless charm, he was every girl's fantasy. And yet... I didn't feel that spark. To me, he was just a friend—a good one—but nothing more. And the last thing I wanted was to hurt him.

"So, I wanted to ask you..." He hesitated, his eyes shining with hope. "Would you be my girlfriend?"

My stomach twisted with guilt.

Fidgeting with my fingers, I thought about that impulsive kiss on the dance floor—and worse, the fact that I had slept with his uncle just days ago. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I bit my lower lip.

"Nathaniel..." I exhaled slowly.

That single word was enough. His face fell slightly, but he stayed quiet, giving me space to continue.

"You're an incredible guy," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "Any girl would be lucky to have you. But I'm not in the right place for a relationship. You know my fated mate is marrying someone else, and my wolf is... broken because of it."

"I'm not like him," Nathaniel insisted, suddenly grabbing my wrist, startling me. "I would never hurt you. Just give us a chance. You could learn to love me—your wolf could too."

I shook my head, trying to pull away.

"Nathaniel, you're amazing, and I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but I don’t feel the same way. I tried—I really did—but—"

"Then try harder!" His grip tightened painfully. "We have fun together. There’s chemistry between us, Lillian."

"As friends," I corrected, keeping my voice low to avoid drawing attention.

"That’s bullshit, and you know it!" His voice rose. "We kissed!"

"Let go of me. You're hurting me," I pleaded, struggling against his hold. His coat slipped to the ground in the scuffle, but his fingers only dug deeper into my skin—hard enough to bruise.

"You led me on!" he hissed, anger flashing in his eyes. "You made me think there was something here!"

His expression was wild, unhinged—something I'd never seen before. It sent a chill down my spine.

"Please, Nathaniel..."

"You're nothing but a whore," Nathaniel snarled, his grip tightening on my arm. "I should have known better than to trust you. No wonder Donovan left you for Evelyn!"

Before I could stop myself, my palm connected with his cheek in a sharp crack. The force of it startled him enough to release me. I stumbled back, my chest heaving with fury, my entire body burning with indignation.

"Don’t you ever speak to me like that again," I hissed, jabbing a finger at him. "Yes, I hurt you, but that doesn’t give you the right to act like a complete bastard!"

For a moment, his anger flickered. He dragged a hand through his hair, regret flashing in his eyes.

"Fine. You're right. I went too far," he muttered. "But I don’t get it, Lillian. You came here as my date. You let me kiss you—more than once. And now you're saying we're just friends? That doesn’t add up." His voice dropped, suspicion creeping in. "Did something happen? I saw you with that guy earlier… Is he the reason?"

My stomach twisted.

He’d seen me with him? Had he witnessed the kiss? My silence must have been answer enough because his expression darkened, his jaw clenching.

"It is him, isn’t it?" Nathaniel growled. "Something happened between you two. Tell me the truth."

"Nathaniel—"

His fingers dug into my arm again, harder this time, his breath ragged. "You really are a slut," he spat. "I wish I’d never laid eyes on you, Lillian Montague!"

"Let me go!" I wrenched against his hold, adrenaline surging. "You don’t get to touch me like this! I don’t want you—just leave me alone!"

The sharp sting across my cheek silenced me. The metallic tang of blood bloomed on my tongue before I even registered the blow. My vision swam as I stared up at him, his hand still raised, his knuckles red from the impact.

He’d just hit me.