Chapter 193

"Yes," I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Good luck, and remember—take a deep breath. Don’t jump to conclusions. Let him explain first before you react. Update me on everything tomorrow."

"I will," I promised before ending the call.

I set my phone on the nightstand, plugged it in, and turned to face him. Sebastian still stood in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowed as he studied me.

"Victoria said you weren’t feeling well," he murmured. "You were fine this morning."

I nodded, swiping at my cheeks again, praying he wouldn’t notice the tear stains or the redness in my eyes. I hated how vulnerable I became around him, but I couldn’t help it.

"Yeah, just a little off," I lied. "Probably something I ate."

"Was it Lucien’s cooking?" His jaw tightened. "I’ll fire him—"

"No!" I cut in quickly. "Don’t. It wasn’t him. It was something from school, that’s all."

He looked almost disappointed. I knew he’d been itching to get rid of Lucien—the chef had always rubbed him the wrong way—but I wouldn’t let him. Lucien was one of the few people here who made me feel less alone. Between him and Giselle, this place had started to feel like home.

At least, it had—until I saw that photo of Sebastian and Celeste.

The nausea twisted in my gut again, and I dropped my gaze to my lap, willing the tears back.

"How was your date?" The bitterness in my tone was impossible to mask.

"It wasn’t a date," he said sharply. "Just dinner. Damien thought it would be good for me to take her out, and—" He paused, frowning. "Wait. I didn’t mention it in my texts. How did you know?"

My cheeks burned. I had nothing to be ashamed of—I hadn’t asked Victoria to send me that photo. But she had, captioned: Father’s first real date in years! Don’t they look perfect together?

My stomach had lurched the second I saw it. Celeste, draped in a shimmering red gown, pressed against Sebastian in his tailored suit. He was dressed more casually now, and I couldn’t stop wondering—had she helped him out of that jacket?

"Victoria sent a picture," I admitted. "She wanted me to see how lovely you two looked."

His eyes darkened with fury, and I shivered under the intensity of his glare.

"I’ll be having a word with her about that," he muttered. "But it wasn’t a date."

I nodded, wanting to believe him.

He stepped closer to the bed.

"Still feeling sick?"

I nodded again—because I was sick, just not from food.

"I’ll make you tea." Before I could protest, he was gone.

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows, frustration and hurt tangling inside me.

When Sebastian returned, he handed me a steaming mug—prepared exactly how I liked it. The fact that he remembered something so small surprised me. I murmured my thanks and sipped in silence while he watched me.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the night. I didn’t expect him to stay, but he did.

He slept beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty—but the sound of running water from the bathroom told me he was still here. He hadn’t left.

A flicker of hope sparked in my chest. He’d come straight back after his not-a-date and stayed the night, thinking I was ill. He’d made me tea, tended to me—and hadn’t tried anything. Maybe he did care.

Then I saw my phone. Beatrice had called—and texted.

Frowning, I opened the message. My heart plummeted.

Beatrice: Whatever you do, DON’T check the internet today! Please!!

Dread coiled in my stomach. I had to know.

I pulled up the news.

The headline hit me like a punch to the gut.

CELESTE DEVEREAUX SPOTTED WITH NEW BOYFRIEND, SEBASTIAN BLACKWOOD!

Tears welled before I could stop them. I clicked the link—and there it was.

Sebastian and Celeste.

Kissing.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains of Lillian’s bedroom, stirring her awake. She stretched lazily, her muscles still sore from yesterday’s training session with Professor Montclair. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling that Giselle, the head maid, was already at work.

Lillian’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Beatrice lit up the screen: "Meet me at the café in an hour. Big news!"

Curious, Lillian dressed quickly, opting for a simple sundress and sandals. As she descended the grand staircase of Sebastian Blackwood’s mansion, she nearly collided with Oliver, his seven-year-old son, who was racing down the hall with a toy sword.

"Watch where you’re going, Lillian!" Oliver giggled, dodging past her.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re going to give your father a heart attack one of these days."

In the dining room, Sebastian sat at the head of the table, engrossed in a stack of documents. His sharp blue eyes flicked up as she entered. "Morning," he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Morning," she replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Beatrice wants to meet. Says she has news."

Sebastian arched a brow. "Hopefully nothing involving another reckless scheme."

Lillian smirked. "With Beatrice, it’s always a gamble."

The campus café was bustling when Lillian arrived. Beatrice waved her over from a corner table, her face alight with excitement. Gabrielle, the barista, slid a caramel latte toward Lillian with a knowing smile.

"You’re never going to believe this," Beatrice whispered, leaning in. "I overheard Cassandra talking to Professor Sinclair. They’re planning something—something big."

Lillian’s grip tightened around her cup. "What kind of something?"

Beatrice’s eyes gleamed. "Something involving Donovan and Evelyn. They’re trying to sabotage your position in the pack."

A cold knot formed in Lillian’s stomach. She had hoped Donovan would move on after their broken bond, but it seemed he was still determined to make her life difficult.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again. A message from Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta: "Emergency meeting at the pack house. Now."

Lillian exhaled sharply. "Duty calls."

Beatrice squeezed her hand. "Be careful."

The pack house was tense when Lillian arrived. Sebastian stood at the head of the room, his expression unreadable. Marcus and Julian Mercer, the head gamma, flanked him, their postures rigid.

"We have a problem," Sebastian announced. "Alpha Maximilian Voss has challenged our territory rights. He’s gathering allies."

Murmurs broke out among the pack members. Lillian’s pulse quickened. A territorial dispute could mean war.

Sebastian’s gaze locked onto hers. "Lillian, I need you to stay close. Things are about to get dangerous."

She nodded, her mind racing. Between Donovan’s scheming and now this, the stakes had never been higher.

As the meeting adjourned, Sebastian pulled her aside. His voice was low, urgent. "Trust no one outside this pack. Understood?"

Lillian swallowed hard. "Understood."

But as she walked away, one thought consumed her: What if the enemy is already among us?

I recoiled from her instantly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, disgust curling in my gut. What the hell just happened?

Celeste’s face flushed crimson at my blatant rejection. My gaze snapped to the paparazzi lingering nearby, their cameras still poised. The moment my eyes locked onto them, they flinched, sensing the storm brewing beneath my skin.

"Leave," I snarled, my voice laced with the growl of my wolf, "before I tear your throats out."

The threat wasn’t empty. My vision sharpened, the gold of my wolf bleeding into my irises. The photographers trembled, muttering hasty apologies before scattering like roaches.

But the fury didn’t leave me. My muscles were locked tight, my jaw clenched so hard it ached. I mindlinked Marcus. Pick us up. Now.

All I wanted was to dump Celeste at the villa and get back to Lillian. I needed to see her, to make sure she was okay.

A tentative touch brushed my back. I stiffened, my wolf snarling violently in my mind. I barely restrained him before he lashed out.

"Don’t. Touch. Me." I jerked away, my voice a blade of ice.

"Sebastian—"

"It’s Alpha," I snapped, turning on her with a glare that could melt steel. "You crossed a line tonight, Celeste. That was unacceptable."

Her lips parted, feigning innocence. "I—I’m sorry. I just needed to shut them up. They wouldn’t stop until we gave them something."

"I shut them down just fine without lying." My voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

She laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. "You think that’s the end of it? They’re not done with us yet."

"We are done." The car pulled up, Marcus behind the wheel. "Get in. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone—"

Celeste smiled, slow and knowing. "Oh, I won’t have to. By tomorrow, everyone will be talking about it."

I ignored her cryptic remark, sliding into the front seat while she took the back. The farther she was from me, the better. My thoughts were consumed by one thing: Lillian.

Lillian’s POV

"Maybe it doesn’t mean anything," Beatrice said over the phone.

I curled tighter into myself, my pillow damp with tears. Why was I reacting like this? I didn’t even know the full story.

But the image burned behind my eyelids—Sebastian and Celeste, lips locked, the cameras flashing.

I wasn’t his mate. I had no claim over him.

So why did it feel like my heart had been ripped out?

Lucien had flirted with me before, and I hadn’t spiraled like this.

But Sebastian... he was different.

And that terrified me.

Then why does it feel like my soul has been shredded into pieces? Why is my wolf howling in agony, as if mourning a profound loss? These emotions are overwhelming, and I don’t know how to make sense of them.

"I don’t know," I whispered hoarsely. "I’m exhausted, and seeing them together earlier… it tore me apart, Beatrice."

"Why would Victoria show you that?" Beatrice snapped, her voice laced with bitterness. "She knew you had feelings for him, didn’t she?"

"I’m not sure if she knew for certain… but I thought she at least suspected," I admitted softly. Fresh tears welled up, but I forced them back, swallowing the lump in my throat. "She’s been acting so distant lately. Something’s off, and I don’t think she wants to be friends anymore."

"Good," Beatrice said firmly. "You shouldn’t stay friends with the woman who stole your ex’s affection anyway."

"She didn’t know she was the other woman. I can’t blame her for what Donovan did. We were both deceived. The only difference is, I know I was betrayed—Victoria doesn’t. I pity her… I want to keep our friendship, but she’s been avoiding me, acting like a stranger."

"Don’t waste your energy on her. If Sebastian truly cares about you, he won’t entertain this girl. Trust me," she reassured gently.

"That’s the problem, Beatrice," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "I don’t know if he does care, or if this is just… physical." Silence stretched between us for a long moment.

"Maybe you should talk to him?" she suggested carefully. "You’re drowning in confusion, and living under his roof won’t help if you don’t get answers."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the bedroom door creaked open. Sebastian stood in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim hallway light. My pulse skyrocketed. It was late, and I hadn’t expected him tonight. Mortification burned through me—he was seeing me like this, my face swollen from crying, my eyes red and raw. I turned away hastily, swiping at my cheeks before he could notice.

"Beatrice, I’ll call you tomorrow," I whispered urgently.

"Did he just walk in?" she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. She knew me too well.