Chapter 200

The moon hung low in the velvet sky, casting silver streaks across the forest floor as Lillian sprinted through the trees, her breath ragged. Every muscle in her body burned, but she couldn’t stop—not when Donovan’s enraged snarls echoed behind her, growing closer with each passing second.

He wasn’t supposed to find out.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she skidded around a thick oak, her bare feet kicking up damp leaves. The scent of pine and earth filled her lungs, but beneath it, the metallic tang of blood lingered—her own. A shallow gash on her arm throbbed, a stark reminder of Donovan’s fury when he’d discovered her secret.

Sebastian.

The name sent a shiver down her spine. She had known the risks when she accepted the Lycan chairman as her true mate, but she hadn’t anticipated Donovan’s reaction. His betrayal still stung, raw and fresh, like an open wound.

A branch snapped behind her.

Lillian whirled around just as Donovan lunged from the shadows, his amber eyes blazing with unchecked rage. She barely dodged in time, his claws grazing her shoulder as she stumbled back.

"You think you can run from me?" he growled, his voice laced with venom. "After everything we had?"

"We had nothing," Lillian shot back, her voice trembling but defiant. "You chose Evelyn. You left me."

His lip curled. "And yet here you are, throwing yourself at Sebastian Blackwood like some desperate—"

A deep, guttural snarl cut through the night, silencing him mid-sentence.

Both of them froze.

From the darkness, a massive black wolf emerged, its golden eyes locked onto Donovan with lethal intent. The air thickened with dominance, suffocating in its intensity.

Sebastian.

Lillian’s breath hitched as he stepped forward, his fur bristling, every muscle coiled for attack.

Donovan took an involuntary step back, his bravado faltering. "This isn’t over," he spat, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.

Sebastian didn’t give him a chance to retreat. With a single, fluid motion, he lunged.

Lillian barely had time to blink before Donovan was pinned beneath Sebastian’s massive frame, his claws digging into his throat. A whimper escaped Donovan’s lips—a sound she had never heard from him before.

"Sebastian, wait!" she cried, rushing forward.

The Lycan’s head snapped toward her, his gaze softening just slightly. But the warning in his eyes was clear: He deserves this.

Lillian swallowed hard. "Not like this."

For a heartbeat, the forest fell silent. Then, with a reluctant growl, Sebastian released Donovan, shoving him away with enough force to send him sprawling into the dirt.

"Run," Sebastian commanded, his voice a deadly whisper. "And if I ever catch you near her again, I won’t stop."

Donovan scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in humiliation and fury. But he didn’t argue. With one last glare at Lillian, he turned and vanished into the trees.

The moment he was gone, Sebastian shifted back, his human form materializing in a swirl of shadows. His dark hair was tousled, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained anger.

Lillian didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, steady and sure, chasing away the lingering fear.

"You shouldn’t have come after me alone," he murmured, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "I had to."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "He could have killed you."

"But he didn’t." She pressed her palm against his cheek. "Because of you."

For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he pulled her close again, his lips brushing the top of her head.

"Let’s go home," he said softly.

Lillian nodded, her heart finally settling.

But as they turned to leave, a distant howl pierced the night—one that didn’t belong to either of their packs.

Sebastian stiffened.

Lillian’s pulse spiked. "What was that?"

His grip on her tightened.

"Trouble."

"Donovan is such an ass," Beatrice huffed as we strolled toward the student lounge. It had been a day since my confrontation with Victoria, and I'd just finished recounting the whole ordeal to Beatrice. She was fuming on my behalf, while I just felt bruised and bewildered. Sebastian hadn’t reached out since last night, and evening was creeping in.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had texted—but only to say Oliver wasn’t feeling well and that he wouldn’t be coming to tutoring today. He’d also made sure to add that he wouldn’t be stopping by tonight. Not that I expected him to.

"Yeah, well, Victoria’s head over heels for him. I’m guessing she took him back," I muttered, shaking my head. "Whatever. Not my circus, not my wolves."

"But doesn’t it still sting?" Beatrice frowned, nudging me. "I mean… he’s your fated mate."

I bit my lower lip, shaking my head again.

"That’s not the part that hurts the most," I admitted quietly. "My wolf and I are used to Donovan’s games. It’s nothing new. And honestly? It hurts less every time. I don’t love him anymore—fated or not."

Beatrice nodded thoughtfully before suddenly brightening.

"Okay, enough about idiot men," she declared, spinning to face me as we reached the lounge doors. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Guess what? There’s a frat party tonight!"

"A frat party?" I arched a brow. "Seriously, Bea?"

She grinned, swinging the door open and dragging me inside, her arm looping through mine.

"Everyone’s going. I’ve got the night off from work, and we deserve to let loose. Come on, Lillian—just one night of fun to forget about Donovan and Sebastian?"

I sighed. Parties weren’t my scene—especially frat parties. I’d rather spend the evening in the combat center, working off my frustration with a few rounds of sparring.

"Pleeease?" Beatrice pouted, squeezing my arm. "When was the last time we actually did something fun? You need this."

She wasn’t wrong. Maybe a distraction would help.

"Fine," I relented. "But if it’s lame, we’re leaving."

Beatrice squealed, throwing her arms around me.

"Yes! Meet me here at eight. And wear something hot," she ordered, pointing a stern finger at me.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing.

"Whatever you say, Bea."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied with a playful salute, unable to suppress my smirk.

We spent the afternoon studying for our upcoming exams, though most of our time was filled with laughter and idle chatter. Later, Frederick arrived to pick me up and take me home.

The rest of my evening was dedicated to getting ready for a party I had zero interest in attending. But when I finally stood before the mirror, taking in my reflection, a slow, satisfied grin spread across my face.

Third Person POV

Beatrice had nothing suitable to wear to her first frat party. She wanted something bold, something that would turn heads—but most of her wardrobe was tailored for work, elegant and refined. She didn’t own anything remotely provocative, and that was exactly the look she was going for tonight.

For a fleeting moment, she considered texting Lillian to ask if she wanted to go shopping together, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Lillian was already struggling with whether she even wanted to attend, and Beatrice knew she needed space to make her decision in peace.

So instead, Beatrice grabbed her keys and drove into the city, determined to find something unforgettable. She still had a few hours before the party—plenty of time to transform herself into the kind of woman who would leave an impression.

"Welcome back, Beatrice," a familiar voice greeted as she stepped into her favorite boutique.

"Hey, Amélie," Beatrice replied, already scanning the racks. "I need something hot. I’m going to a frat party tonight."

Amélie, the boutique clerk, wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Ugh, those are the worst. I don’t miss those days at all."

A few years older, Amélie had recently graduated and was training to become the store’s manager. She had never been much of a party girl, though she had endured her fair share of frat parties during her college years.

"Well, this is my first one, and I want to make sure it’s memorable," Beatrice said with a shrug.

Amélie nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. Just make it quick—I’m closing early tonight."

Beatrice frowned. "Why? It’s not a holiday, is it?"

Amélie’s lips curled into a delighted smile. "No, but I have a date tonight, and I can’t wait. I still can’t believe he actually asked me out. He’s from the Silver Crescent pack—we met at a bar a few nights ago. He’s taking me dancing and then to dinner."

Beatrice arched a brow, intrigued. "Sounds like someone’s got a good night ahead of them."

Amélie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, you have no idea."

With that, Beatrice turned back to the racks, her mind already racing with possibilities. Tonight, she wasn’t just going to a party—she was making an entrance.