Chapter 144

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood's penthouse, illuminating the spacious living area. Lillian stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body still humming with the remnants of last night's passion. She stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her.

Sebastian was already gone.

A faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Lillian sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair as she glanced at the clock. It was later than she thought.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from Beatrice.

"Girl, where are you? Class starts in twenty!"

Lillian groaned. She had completely forgotten about her morning lecture. Throwing off the covers, she scrambled out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cool marble floor. She grabbed the first outfit she could find—a simple blouse and jeans—before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

As she splashed cold water on her face, her reflection stared back at her. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, evidence of the sleepless nights she'd spent tangled in Sebastian's arms. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

She was falling for him. Hard.

And that terrified her.

Because no matter how much she tried to push the thought away, the truth remained—Sebastian Blackwood was dangerous. Not just because he was a Lycan chairman, but because he had the power to destroy her heart.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Beatrice.

"Seriously, Lil. Professor Sinclair is already giving me the death glare."

Lillian cursed under her breath. She grabbed her bag and bolted out of the bedroom, nearly colliding with Theodore Whitmore in the hallway.

"Miss Lillian," the butler greeted smoothly, stepping aside with practiced grace. "Breakfast is ready in the dining room."

"No time," Lillian panted, adjusting the strap of her bag. "I'm late for class."

Theodore's lips twitched in amusement. "Mr. Blackwood left instructions for you to eat before leaving."

Lillian hesitated. She knew Sebastian well enough by now to recognize an order disguised as a suggestion. With a resigned sigh, she followed Theodore to the dining room, where a lavish spread awaited her—fresh fruit, pastries, and a steaming cup of coffee.

She ate quickly, her mind racing. Last night had been... intense. Sebastian had been different—softer, almost vulnerable. He'd held her like she was something precious, whispering words against her skin that made her heart stutter.

But then the morning came, and he was gone.

Typical.

Lillian swallowed the last bite of her croissant and stood. "Tell Sebastian—" She paused, unsure what to say. Tell him I miss him? Tell him I'm scared?

Theodore waited patiently.

"Never mind," she muttered, grabbing her coffee. "I'll see him later."

She rushed out of the penthouse, her thoughts a tangled mess. The elevator ride down felt endless, each second stretching like taffy. When the doors finally opened, she sprinted through the lobby, ignoring the curious glances from the staff.

Outside, the city was alive with noise and movement. Lillian hailed a cab, sliding into the backseat with a huff.

"University campus," she told the driver. "Fast."

As the car sped through the streets, Lillian leaned her head against the window, watching the world blur past. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—something big.

And she wasn't sure she was ready for it.

Donovan returned to his room late that night after bidding his family goodnight. He had intended to escort Victoria home, but when he found his room empty, his brow furrowed. There was no trace of her. Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages and saw one from her.

Victoria: Went home. Enjoy your time with your family. See you soon. Love you.

Donovan exhaled sharply and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t even pretend to be upset—if anything, he was relieved she had left. It meant he didn’t have to keep up the charade of happiness any longer. The memory of watching Lillian walk away with Sebastian Blackwood sent a cold shiver down his spine. The way Sebastian had defended her, the way Lillian had looked at him like he was her entire world—it made Donovan’s blood boil.

Had she really moved on? They were fated mates, for Moon’s sake. His mark still lingered on her neck. How could she feel nothing for him? The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

He didn’t want to lose Lillian. Marrying Victoria was purely strategic—her status as Sebastian’s daughter could secure him the Alpha position of the Redmoon Pack. But he still wanted Lillian by his side, even if just as his secret. The idea of her in another man’s arms was unbearable.

Instead of going home, he decided to head to the local pub. He needed a drink—or ten—to drown out the image of Lillian with Sebastian. The crisp autumn air bit at his skin as he walked, the night quiet save for the rustle of fallen leaves beneath his boots.

The bar wasn’t crowded at this hour, just a few stragglers lingering over drinks. Some faces he recognized from the pack, who nodded in acknowledgment as he passed. He returned the gesture before sliding onto a stool at the counter.

"What can I get you?" Benedict, the bartender, asked.

"Whiskey," Donovan muttered, slapping his credit card onto the bar. "And keep them coming."

"Rough night?" Benedict arched a brow as he took the card and opened a tab.

"Something like that," Donovan grumbled, dragging a hand through his hair.

Benedict chuckled and poured the drink, sliding it across the bar. Donovan caught it effortlessly and downed it in one go, earning a surprised look from the bartender. Without a word, Benedict poured him another.

Again, Donovan drained the glass and slammed it down, pushing it back for a refill. Benedict obliged—refusing a man like Donovan wasn’t an option.

By his sixth drink, the room was spinning. He barely registered when someone took the seat beside him.

"A classic martini," a smooth, feminine voice ordered.

"Coming right up," Benedict replied.

Donovan lifted his heavy gaze and nearly choked. Sitting beside him was a woman who looked exactly like Lillian—long hair cascading down her back, lips painted a deep red, and dressed in a scandalously short dress. When she glanced at him, she offered a coy smile.

"Lillian…" he breathed, the alcohol making her image blur and sway.

She arched a brow. "Name’s Rosalind," she corrected, her voice dripping with amusement.

He didn’t care. All that mattered was that she looked like her.

"You okay?" Rosalind asked after a beat, sipping her martini while studying him with wary curiosity. Then her eyes widened in recognition. "Wait… I know you. You’re Donovan Cash, aren’t you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are?"

She laughed, taking another sip. "Daily."

Silence stretched between them before she shifted under his intense stare. "Buy me another drink," she teased, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers, "and maybe I’ll let you take me home."

Donovan didn’t hesitate. He glanced at Benedict. "Get her another."

Benedict smirked, looking to Rosalind for confirmation. She tilted her head, assessing Donovan before grinning. "Make it two. And put everything on his tab."

"Yes, ma’am," Benedict chuckled.

Several martinis later, Rosalind was loose-limbed and giggly. When Donovan pulled her against him, she didn’t resist. His lips crashed onto hers, tasting of whiskey and desperation. She melted into it, feeding off his weakness. Men like him were easy prey—and she knew exactly how to profit from it.