Chapter 164

Lillian trembled, her gaze fixed on the deep gash across her palm. Without hesitation, I pulled her against me, hating how rigid she became at my touch. Scooping her into my arms, I ignored her sharp inhale as she clutched my shoulder with her uninjured hand, carefully keeping her bleeding one away to avoid staining my clothes.

"Take us to your bathroom," I commanded Archibald.

"Right away, Alpha," he stammered, rushing ahead. I followed without sparing another glance at Vivienne and Arabella. As we moved down the hall, a horrified gasp cut through the air.

"Lillian?!" Vivienne cried. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Lillian murmured weakly. "Just a scratch."

"She’s losing blood," I snapped, not slowing my pace. "I need to stop it before it gets worse."

Archibald led us to a lavish bathroom, but before he could speak, I shut the door in his face.

A heavy silence settled between us. Lillian remained tense, her eyes locked on her wound as I set her on the marble counter. I rummaged beneath the sink and retrieved the first aid kit.

"You don’t have to do this," she whispered.

I glanced up briefly before pulling out antiseptic and bandages. "Would you rather bleed out?"

She shrugged but stayed silent. Taking her hand, I turned on the faucet. The moment my fingers circled her wrist, she stiffened, resisting. My frown deepened.

"Let me help you," I murmured, my skin burning where we touched.

For a heartbeat, she searched my eyes—then exhaled, yielding. I guided her hand under the warm stream, rinsing the wound. She hissed at the sting, muscles locking briefly before relaxing again. My thumb traced slow circles over her pulse, soothing her as I worked.

With each stroke, her breathing steadied, and soon, her gaze kept flickering to me. I pretended not to notice, though the heat of her stare seared my cheek. The corner of my mouth threatened to lift.

"Why are you here?" she finally asked, slicing through the quiet.

I dabbed ointment on her cut, and she winced. "I came for you."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

Pausing, I met her eyes. "I was wrong. About everything. I never should’ve accused you of hurting Oliver. I know you’d never harm him. I should’ve listened instead of throwing you out." My voice roughened. "I’m here to make it right."

She studied me, silent.

Focusing back on her hand, I bandaged it carefully, then linked Marcus to have Elizabeth check it tomorrow. Reluctantly, I let her go.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For this. And for apologizing."

"I should’ve done both sooner," I admitted. "Sending Marcus was cowardly."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, cheeks pinkening. "It was. But you’re here now." Her expression sobered. "Good thing, too. Arabella’s unhinged. Who knows what she’d have done if you hadn’t stepped in."

My jaw clenched at the thought. "She’ll never touch you again."

Lillian frowned. "What do you mean? She lives here. So do I."

Leaning in, I caged her against the counter, our mouths inches apart. Her breath warmed my lips. "Not anymore," I murmured, brushing a featherlight kiss over hers. She sighed, blushing deeper. "From now on, you’re staying with me."