Chapter 177

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s estate. The golden hues of twilight painted the sky, casting long shadows across the sprawling gardens below. She exhaled slowly, her breath forming a faint mist in the cool evening.

Inside, the mansion buzzed with activity. Preparations for the upcoming gala were in full swing—maids flitted about, adjusting table settings, while Lucien Dubois, the head chef, barked orders in the kitchen. The event was crucial, not just for Sebastian’s political standing among the Lycan elite, but for Lillian as well.

She tightened her grip on the railing, her knuckles whitening. The weight of her new role as Sebastian’s chosen mate pressed heavily on her shoulders. It wasn’t just about surviving the scrutiny of the pack anymore—it was about proving she belonged.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Lillian?” Beatrice’s voice drifted through the half-open door. “You’ve been out here for ages. Are you alright?”

Lillian forced a smile. “Just needed some air.”

Beatrice stepped onto the balcony, her arms crossed against the chill. “You’re nervous about tonight, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Lillian countered. “Half the Lycan council will be there, watching my every move.”

Beatrice smirked. “And the other half will be too busy ogling Sebastian to care.”

Lillian rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest eased slightly. Beatrice always knew how to lighten the mood.

“Besides,” Beatrice continued, nudging her shoulder, “you’ve faced worse. Remember Alpha Harrison?”

A shudder ran down Lillian’s spine at the memory. The drunken alpha had cornered her at a pack gathering months ago, his intentions anything but honorable. She’d handled it—barely—but the incident had left scars.

“This is different,” Lillian murmured. “Tonight isn’t about fighting. It’s about diplomacy. And I’m not exactly the queen of small talk.”

Beatrice snorted. “Please. You charmed Donovan once, didn’t you?”

Lillian’s smile faltered. Donovan—her ex-fated mate, the man who’d betrayed her for Evelyn. The wound was still fresh, a dull ache she couldn’t quite shake.

“That was before I knew better,” she said quietly.

Beatrice’s expression softened. “Hey. Look at me.” She waited until Lillian met her gaze. “You’re stronger now. And Sebastian wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t believe in you.”

Lillian swallowed hard. Beatrice was right. She had survived Donovan’s betrayal, Alpha Harrison’s advances, and even Cassandra’s relentless bullying at school. A gala was nothing compared to that.

“Fine,” she conceded, squaring her shoulders. “But if anyone spills wine on my dress, I reserve the right to shift and bite them.”

Beatrice grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

As they turned to head back inside, a familiar scent caught Lillian’s attention—something earthy and warm, like cedar and smoke. Sebastian.

He stood in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space effortlessly. His dark eyes flickered with amusement. “Biting guests isn’t part of the evening’s agenda, little wolf.”

Lillian’s cheeks warmed. “You heard that?”

“Every word.” He stepped closer, his presence enveloping her like a shield. “Though I’d pay to see you take down Alpha Voss if he gets too handsy.”

Beatrice coughed pointedly. “I’ll just… go check on Oliver.” She slipped past Sebastian with a wink.

Alone on the balcony, Sebastian reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Lillian’s ear. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her.

“You’ll be magnificent tonight,” he murmured.

Lillian’s pulse quickened. “What if I embarrass you?”

Sebastian’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “Impossible.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “But if you’re that worried, I can always distract everyone with a scandal of my own.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he captured her lips in a searing kiss. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the possessive grip of his hands on her waist.

When he finally pulled away, Lillian was breathless.

“Now,” Sebastian said, his voice rough with promise, “let’s go show them why you’re mine.”

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood's penthouse, painting the marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stretched lazily beneath the silk sheets, her body still humming from the previous night's passion. The scent of Sebastian—spiced cedar and something uniquely alpha—lingered on her skin, making her heart flutter.

She turned her head, expecting to find him beside her, but the bed was empty. A note rested on his pillow in elegant script:

"Emergency meeting. Don't leave the penthouse—Derek is stationed outside. I'll be back soon."

Lillian sighed, running her fingers through her tousled hair. The possessive command should have irritated her, but instead, warmth spread through her chest. He was protecting her, even when he wasn't here.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Beatrice.

"Girl, you alive? Or did the Lycan King finally wear you out?"

Lillian snorted, typing back. "Very funny. He’s gone for now. What’s up?"

"You need to see this."

A link followed. Lillian clicked it, and her stomach dropped.

BREAKING: Alpha Harrison Accuses Blackwood of Mate Theft—Demands Justice

The article detailed Alpha Harrison's public declaration that Sebastian had "stolen" Lillian from him, despite their broken bond. Worse, he was rallying support from other packs, framing it as an act of Lycan aggression against werewolves.

Lillian's fingers trembled. This wasn’t just about her anymore—it was a political storm, one that could ignite a war.

The penthouse door opened, and Sebastian strode in, his expression dark. "You saw."

She nodded. "What are we going to do?"

He crossed the room in three strides, cupping her face. "We fight." His thumb brushed her cheek. "But first, we make sure they know exactly who you belong to."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Because when Sebastian Blackwood made a claim, the world listened.

If Beatrice had been holding her coffee cup when I blurted out the news, she definitely would have dropped it. Her jaw practically hit the floor as she gaped at me, her eyes wide with shock. I hated keeping this part of my life from her for so long, but now I was ready to confess everything. I just prayed she wouldn’t be furious with me for hiding it.

"I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right," she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"What?" I swallowed hard, taking a sip of my own coffee before setting the cup down.

"No, you heard me correctly," I admitted, avoiding her stunned gaze. "I moved in with Alpha Sebastian Blackwood."

"How…? What…?" She stammered, struggling to form a coherent question. I couldn’t blame her—this was the last thing she’d expected.

"Okay, before I explain, promise you won’t be mad at me for keeping this secret."

She studied me warily for a moment before leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms.

"Have you been seeing him?"

I flinched at her sharp tone. She was already upset, and her question caught me off guard.

"It’s… more complicated than that," I admitted.

"Complicated how, Lillian?" she pressed, her patience wearing thin.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

"I’ve been working at his estate for months now," I confessed.

Her brows shot up. "Excuse me, what?"

"That kid I’ve been tutoring… he’s Sebastian’s son," I said quickly. "I’ve been teaching his boy."

She blinked, then shook her head in disbelief.

"Alpha Blackwood doesn’t have a son," she countered. "He has a daughter—which, of course, you already know."

"He does have a son," I insisted. "He’s just kept out of the public eye. Oliver attends a private school, and I think only the pack knows he exists. It’s been a well-guarded secret."

"Why would he hide his own son?" Beatrice frowned, her lips pursed.

"He’s only seven," I said with a shrug. "Maybe Sebastian just doesn’t want Oliver getting tangled up in pack politics."

"Oliver?" Beatrice's eyes widened slightly as she processed the information.

"His son," I clarified, swirling my latte absentmindedly.

She nodded thoughtfully before taking a slow sip of her iced coffee, the condensation dripping onto the table between us. The café was nearly empty, the quiet hum of the espresso machine the only background noise.

"And you've been tutoring him?" she asked after a deliberate pause, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her cup.

I nodded.

"Yes," I admitted, tracing the rim of my mug with my fingertip.

"And that's how you got so close to Sebastian?" Her voice dropped an octave, laced with curiosity.

Another nod. My teeth caught my lower lip as I debated how much to reveal.

"Then... things just... evolved," I murmured, feeling the heat creep up my neck.

Beatrice's brows shot up. She leaned forward, elbows propped on the table, eyes sharp with intrigue.

"Evolved how?" she pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.

I exhaled, the words sticking in my throat. "We sort of... you know..."

The flush on my face must have been answer enough because she gasped dramatically, nearly knocking over her drink.

"Oh my gods!" she squealed, slapping a hand over her mouth. A barista glanced our way, and I shot Beatrice a warning look. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Are you two together now?"

I shook my head—then shrugged.

"It's... casual," I confessed. "Technically, he suggested it. His mother kept throwing potential mates at him, and he needed a way out. And I—" I hesitated, "—needed Donovan to back off. He doesn’t know about Sebastian and me, but he suspects something. And Sebastian... well, he makes sure Donovan keeps his distance. So, win-win."

Beatrice’s jaw dropped. "Holy hell," she breathed, eyes sparkling. "So... is it good?"

I blinked. "Is what good?"

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip. "Don’t play dumb, Lillian. The sex. Is it good?"

My face burned. I ducked my head, staring hard at my half-finished drink.

"...Incredible," I muttered.

Beatrice shrieked—again—earning another disapproving glance from the barista. I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Beatrice, I swear, if you tell anyone—"

She held up her hands in surrender, grinning like she'd just uncovered the juiciest secret of the century.

For a fleeting moment, Lillian's expression twisted with unmistakable offense. Her amber eyes flashed with wounded pride, lips parting slightly as if to retort before she caught herself. The air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to slice with a claw.

Sebastian's words had struck deeper than intended. She could feel her wolf bristling beneath her skin, the primal urge to either fight or flee surging through her veins. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she struggled to maintain composure.

The grand hall of Blackwood Manor seemed to shrink around them, the opulent chandeliers casting harsh shadows that mirrored the sudden chill in their exchange. Even the usual hum of pack activity in the distance faded into white noise.

"You misunderstand me," Sebastian began, his deep voice laced with a rare hint of contrition, but Lillian was already stepping back, her shoulders squaring defensively. The scent of crushed lavender—her telltale sign of distress—wafted between them.

"Don't," she interrupted, voice barely above a whisper yet razor-sharp. The single syllable hung in the air, charged with unspoken hurt. Behind her, Beatrice hovered near the arched doorway, clutching a stack of books to her chest like a shield, her wide eyes darting between them.

A muscle ticked in Sebastian's jaw as he watched Lillian retreat, the space between them growing colder with each step. The realization that he'd crossed an invisible line settled heavily in his chest. But before he could speak again, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment—Victoria's name flashing on the screen like a neon warning.

And just like that, the fragile thread of their confrontation snapped. Lillian turned on her heel, her dark hair whipping like a curtain between them as she strode toward the garden doors. The last thing Sebastian saw was the defiant set of her spine before she vanished into the twilight, leaving only the faintest trace of bergamot and unresolved tension in her wake.

Beatrice's hesitant voice broke the silence. "She'll come around," she offered, though her grip on the books tightened. "Eventually."

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, thumb hovering over Victoria's call. The weight of the unspoken lingered, heavier than any Lycan decree. Eventually, he thought grimly, might be too late.