Chapter 221

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, stirring Lillian from her restless sleep. She blinked against the light, her mind still foggy from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed her the night before. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted into the room, a comforting reminder that she wasn’t alone in Sebastian’s sprawling estate.

Downstairs, the mansion hummed with quiet activity. Maria moved gracefully through the halls, setting the breakfast table while Lucien, the head chef, prepared an elaborate spread. The aroma of warm pastries and sizzling bacon filled the air, but Lillian’s stomach twisted with unease.

She had barely slept, replaying the confrontation with Donovan in her mind. His betrayal still stung, but what unsettled her more was the way Evelyn had looked at her—like she was the one who had stolen something precious.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Lillian?" Beatrice’s voice was gentle but firm. "You’ve been in there forever. Are you coming down or do I have to drag you?"

Lillian sighed, rubbing her temples. "I’ll be down in a minute."

She forced herself out of bed, splashing cold water on her face before slipping into a simple sundress. The reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the sleepless night.

When she finally descended the stairs, the dining room was already lively. Oliver was chattering excitedly about his upcoming school project, while Sebastian listened with quiet amusement. His sharp gaze flicked to Lillian as she entered, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Lillian managed a small nod before taking her seat beside Beatrice.

"You look like you wrestled a ghost," Beatrice whispered, nudging her with an elbow.

Lillian snorted. "Close enough."

Sebastian’s phone buzzed, and his expression darkened as he read the message. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

"We have a problem," he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lillian’s pulse quickened. "What is it?"

"Donovan’s pack is making moves near the northern border. They’ve challenged our patrols."

A heavy silence settled over the table. Beatrice’s grip tightened on her fork.

Lillian swallowed hard. "He’s trying to provoke you."

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. "And it’s working."

The air thickened with tension, the unspoken question hanging between them—what would they do next?

Lillian met his gaze, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Then we answer."

Sebastian’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Exactly."

The game had just begun.

My breath hitched as I stared at Donovan, his face twisted in fury, his grip on my wrist like a vice. Pain shot up my arm, but I clenched my jaw, ready to flip him onto the pavement. All those years of combat training meant I could take him down in seconds. I’d never used my strength against him before—didn’t want to bruise his fragile ego—but enough was enough. He’d crossed the line for the last time.

Just as I reached for his arm, a sickening crunch echoed through the air. Donovan collapsed, blood gushing from his nose, his grip on me instantly slackening. I stumbled back, blinking in shock. His agonized curses filled the air as he writhed on the ground, clutching his shattered nose.

Then I saw him—Marcus Grayson, Beta of the Blackwood pack, standing over Donovan with a clenched fist, knuckles still red from impact.

"Touch her again," Marcus snarled, his voice a lethal whisper, "and I’ll break more than just your nose."

My pulse pounded in my ears, the reality of what just happened sinking in slowly. Marcus turned to me, his sharp gaze scanning for injuries.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded.

I shook my head, still processing. "What are you doing here?"

"Alpha Blackwood sent me. The paparazzi are out for blood." His lips curled in amusement. "They’ve been hounding the estate all day, trying to dig up details about you and him. Sebastian’s been pulling strings to shut them down, but they keep circling back like vultures."

My stomach dropped. "So I can’t go home?"

"Not unless you want to be swarmed."

"You bastard!" Donovan spat from the ground, still groaning in pain.

Marcus ignored him, jerking his chin toward the sleek black car idling nearby. "Let’s go."

I slid into the backseat without another glance at Donovan. The moment we left campus, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

Marcus hadn’t been exaggerating.

Dozens of photographers swarmed the streets, cameras flashing as they lunged toward the car, desperate for a shot. The tinted windows shielded me, but the sheer hunger in their eyes sent a chill down my spine.

This wasn’t my world. I wasn’t someone who got noticed.

And yet, here they were—hunting me like prey.

By the time we reached the villa, the paparazzi were far behind us. Extra security guards stood watch outside the wrought-iron gates, ensuring no unwanted intruders could slip past. The sight of them eased the tension in my shoulders—we were finally safe.

"What about my tutoring session... and the film crew?" I asked as Sebastian parked the sleek black car in the driveway.

"The film crew wrapped up early today," he replied, his deep voice steady. "Your tutoring session will be here. It’s not safe to return to the mansion yet."

Marcus had been waiting inside when we entered, and the brief flicker of relief in his sharp eyes didn’t escape me. But right now, my nerves were too frayed to dwell on it.

"I'm handling it," he assured me before I could even speak. "If I have to smash every last one of their cameras, I will."

"Marcus already told me everything," I said, shaking my head. "I doubt it’ll come to that. But who took that photo in the first place?" That was the question gnawing at me all day—someone had been lurking outside the mansion, waiting for the perfect moment to snap that incriminating shot. The thought sent an uneasy chill down my spine.

Marcus frowned, his jaw tightening.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "But I will find out. And when I do, their phone won’t be the only thing destroyed."

A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. He could be so fiercely protective—adorable in his own intense way. I would’ve teased him about it if the pack gammas and Beta hadn’t suddenly surrounded us.

"Is Oliver in the parlor already?" I asked, glancing around, half-expecting to see the little boy darting toward me.

"Yes," Marcus confirmed. "By the time your session is over, it’ll be safe for you to return to the mansion. You have my word."

I nodded, though uncertainty still lingered in the back of my mind. Still, I trusted him.

I moved to step past him toward the parlor, but his hand shot out, fingers wrapping gently around my wrist. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through me—warmth flooded my cheeks, and my pulse kicked up a notch.

"We’ll talk later, okay?" His voice was low, intimate, meant only for me.

I bit my lower lip, praying the others didn’t notice the flush creeping up my neck.

"Okay," I murmured before slipping away and heading toward the parlor.

Inside, Oliver was already hunched over his books, scribbling furiously in his notebook. I arched a brow as I shut the door behind me.

"What’s all this?" I asked, gesturing at the chaos—three open textbooks, scattered papers, and a notebook filled with his messy scrawl.

He barely glanced up. "Homework," he muttered. "Dad said I have to finish it before dinner."

I smirked. "And you waited until now to start?"

Oliver groaned dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "It’s boring."

Laughing, I settled beside him. "Well, lucky for you, I’m here to make it less painful."

He shot me a skeptical look. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart."

With a dramatic sigh, he shoved a textbook toward me. "Fine. But if I fall asleep, it’s your fault."

I rolled my eyes. "Deal."

But as I helped him work through his assignments, my mind kept drifting back to the paparazzi, the photo, and the lingering question—who had betrayed us?

And more importantly—what else were they planning?