Chapter 123

The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Lillian's bedroom, casting golden patterns across the silk sheets. She stretched languidly, her werewolf senses immediately picking up the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants from the kitchen below.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Lillian? Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in the study," came Harper's polite voice through the door.

Lillian's pulse quickened at the mention of Sebastian. Ever since their last encounter in the moonlit garden, every interaction with the Lycan chairman sent electric currents down her spine.

She dressed quickly, choosing a simple emerald green dress that complemented her auburn hair. As she descended the grand staircase, the sound of raised voices reached her ears.

"...completely unacceptable!" Sebastian's deep baritone vibrated through the closed study doors.

Lillian hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. The scent of Donovan's cologne mixed with something darker - the metallic tang of anger.

Before she could decide whether to enter, the door swung open violently. Donovan stood framed in the doorway, his usually perfect hair disheveled, eyes flashing gold with barely contained rage.

"You," he spat, his gaze locking onto Lillian. "This is all your fault."

Sebastian materialized behind Donovan, his massive frame radiating protective energy. "Enough," he growled, the command laced with Alpha power that made even Lillian's wolf whimper in submission.

Donovan's jaw clenched, but he stepped back. "Mark my words, Lillian. You'll regret choosing him." With that ominous warning, he stormed down the hall, nearly colliding with Oliver who was coming from the opposite direction.

"Daddy?" The little boy's voice trembled as he clutched a sketchbook to his chest. "Why is Uncle Donovan so angry?"

Sebastian's expression softened as he knelt to his son's level. "Nothing for you to worry about, champ. Did you finish your drawing?"

Oliver nodded eagerly, holding up the sketchbook to reveal a surprisingly detailed portrait of Lillian in wolf form. "I wanted to show Lillian!"

Lillian's heart swelled at the child's innocent admiration. She took the sketchbook gently. "It's beautiful, Oliver. You've captured my wolf perfectly."

The moment was shattered by the shrill ring of Sebastian's phone. He glanced at the screen, his face hardening. "I have to take this. Oliver, why don't you show Lillian your new comic books?"

As Sebastian disappeared into his study, Lillian noticed the way Oliver's small shoulders slumped. "He's always working," the boy muttered.

Lillian squeezed his hand. "How about we make cookies with Lucien? I heard he got fresh chocolate chips from Paris."

Oliver's eyes lit up, but before they could move toward the kitchen, Victoria appeared at the top of the stairs, her designer heels clicking sharply against the marble.

"There you are," she sneered, her cold gaze sweeping over Lillian. "Father wants to see you immediately. Something about your little... indiscretion last night."

Lillian's blood ran cold. What had Donovan told Sebastian?

As she turned to follow Victoria, Beatrice burst through the front door, her face flushed with excitement. "Lil! You'll never guess who just arrived at the—" She froze, taking in the tense atmosphere. "Oh. Bad timing?"

Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, more peasants in my house. Father really needs to screen his guests better."

Beatrice opened her mouth to retort, but Lillian shook her head subtly. Now wasn't the time for another confrontation.

"Bea, can you take Oliver to the kitchen? I'll join you shortly."

As Beatrice led the confused boy away, Lillian squared her shoulders and followed Victoria toward Sebastian's study, her mind racing with possibilities. Whatever awaited her behind that door would change everything - she could feel it in her bones.

The sting on my cheek was unbearable, the skin swelling beneath my fingertips. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, the cut on my lip throbbing with each heartbeat. When Donovan saw the crimson streak on my face, his expression twisted with horror. He released me instantly, stumbling back, his hands raised in surrender.

The moment his hands lifted, I flinched—hard. The hurt that flashed in his eyes only made the ache in my chest worse.

"Lillian, I—"

"Don’t touch me," I hissed, my voice raw, foreign even to my own ears.

His face crumpled. "I’m... I’m so sorry," he choked out, dragging his hands down his face. "I never meant to hurt you—"

"Just leave," I whispered, biting back the sob clawing its way up my throat. I wouldn’t break. Not yet.

He didn’t argue. Without another word, he turned and fled. The second he disappeared around the corner, my knees buckled. Tears spilled over, hot and relentless, searing the wound on my lip. I pressed trembling fingers to my swollen cheek and winced.

Thankfully, the patio was empty. No witnesses. But I couldn’t stay—couldn’t risk someone seeing me like this. I bolted toward the front of the building, my entire body shaking.

Nathaniel had been my ride, but there was no way in hell I was going to find him now. I fumbled for my phone in my purse, fingers slick with sweat. Just as I pulled it out, a familiar voice froze me in place.

"Lillian?"

My breath hitched. I knew that voice like my own heartbeat. And right now, I couldn’t face him. Not like this. But the tears wouldn’t stop. I kept my back turned, refusing to let him see me so broken.

A car door opened, then slammed shut. The next second, warmth enveloped me—his scent, his presence, his hands gripping my shoulders. Electricity sparked beneath my skin at his touch, and I hated how my body responded to him.

"What happened?" Sebastian’s voice was low, dangerous.

He didn’t even need to see my face to know I was shattered. How did he always know?

When I didn’t answer, he spun me around. His gaze locked onto my injuries—the swelling, the blood—and his concern morphed into something darker. Fury.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his grip tightening.

"It doesn’t matter," I whispered, swiping at my tears. "I just want to go home."

Sebastian ignored me. His jaw clenched. "Was it my nephew?"

The accusation hung between us, sharp as a blade.

When I remained silent, Sebastian let out a low, frustrated growl. He didn’t need me to say it—he already knew the answer. His fingers brushed against my chin, tilting my face up until my eyes locked with his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

"I will never let him hurt you again."

His words were deliberate, each syllable weighted with a promise that made my heart stutter. I searched his eyes, losing myself in the storm of emotions swirling within them. After what felt like an eternity, I gave a small, hesitant nod.

Then his lips were on mine.

The moment our mouths touched, my entire world narrowed to that single point of contact. My heart skipped wildly, and my wolf surged forward, electrified by his nearness. His kiss was achingly familiar, yet it carried a depth that left me breathless.

This was the man I had kissed in the dark.

The realization struck me like lightning. If he had still been wearing that mask, he might have resembled Nathaniel—but the resemblance was only superficial. How had I not seen it before?

Sebastian’s tongue traced my bottom lip, a silent request for more. I parted my lips without hesitation, surrendering to the heat between us. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance. He kissed me like a man starved, like his very existence depended on it.

The pain from my bruised cheek and split lip faded—whether from his healing touch or my wolf’s frantic energy, I didn’t know. And in that moment, I didn’t care. All I knew was that I needed more.

Sebastian’s POV

After kissing Lillian on the dance floor, I had no desire to stay at the gala any longer—not after watching her walk away hand-in-hand with Nathaniel.

I found the hostess, handed her my donation check, and made my exit. My driver had already left, assuming I’d stay much later, but I knew Marcus would be nearby. One call, and he’d arrive faster than my chauffeur ever could.

True to form, Marcus pulled up within minutes. He knew better than to ask questions—his silence was one of the many reasons I trusted him.

Just as we were about to drive off, I spotted her.

Lillian.

She stumbled down the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling. Even from this distance, I could see the tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.

My wolf snarled inside me.

I wasn’t leaving without her.