Chapter 227

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s sprawling estate. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the dense forest surrounding the property. She wrapped her arms around herself, the thin silk robe doing little to ward off the chill.

Behind her, the bedroom door creaked open.

“You’re up early,” came Sebastian’s deep, velvety voice.

Lillian turned, her breath hitching slightly at the sight of him. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with stubble. The white linen shirt he wore hung loosely over his broad shoulders, revealing just a hint of the powerful muscles beneath.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, forcing a small smile.

Sebastian stepped closer, his piercing gaze studying her. “Thinking about Donovan again?”

Lillian stiffened. Even the mention of her ex-fated mate sent a sharp pang through her chest. “It’s not just him,” she murmured. “Everything feels… unsettled.”

Sebastian exhaled, his warm breath ghosting over her cheek as he leaned against the railing beside her. “The alliance with Alpha Harrison is still shaky. And with Evelyn now officially mated to Donovan, tensions are higher than ever.”

Lillian clenched her fists. Evelyn—Donovan’s new mate—had been flaunting their bond at every opportunity, twisting the knife deeper into Lillian’s heart.

“We need to act fast,” Sebastian said, his voice low and urgent. “If we don’t solidify our position before the next full moon, Harrison will make his move.”

Lillian swallowed hard. The thought of another pack war made her stomach churn. But she knew Sebastian was right.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, squaring her shoulders.

Sebastian’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “We strike first.”

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with activity. Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta, was already in the war room, maps and strategy charts spread across the massive oak table. Theodore Whitmore, the ever-efficient butler, poured steaming coffee into delicate china cups.

“Morning,” Beatrice chirped, strolling in with a plate of pastries. “Figured you two could use some fuel.”

Lillian smiled gratefully at her best friend, though her mind was still racing.

Sebastian wasted no time. “Marcus, status update.”

Marcus straightened. “Our scouts confirmed Harrison’s forces are gathering near the eastern border. They’re waiting for something—or someone.”

Lillian frowned. “Who?”

“That’s the question,” Sebastian muttered.

Just then, the doors burst open, and Oliver—Sebastian’s seven-year-old son—rushed in, his cheeks flushed. “Dad! Aunt Penelope is here!”

Sebastian’s expression darkened. “What does she want?”

Before anyone could answer, Penelope swept into the room, her designer heels clicking against the marble floor. Her sharp eyes flicked over the assembled group before landing on Lillian.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” she drawled.

Lillian resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Penelope, the late Luna’s sister, had never hidden her disdain for her.

“Penelope,” Sebastian said coolly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

She smirked. “I bring news. Harrison isn’t just gathering forces—he’s made a deal with the Darkmoon Pack.”

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Lillian’s pulse spiked. The Darkmoon Pack was notorious for their brutality. If they allied with Harrison…

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “When?”

“Last night,” Penelope said, inspecting her manicure. “And rumor has it, they’re bringing in Tristan Whitlock.”

Lillian’s blood ran cold. Tristan—Alpha Levi’s most lethal warrior.

Sebastian’s eyes flashed with fury. “Then we don’t have time to waste.”

Lillian met his gaze, determination hardening her resolve. Whatever was coming, they would face it together.

But as the meeting continued, one thought nagged at her—why was Penelope, of all people, helping them?

And what game was she really playing?

"If you have any handsome guy friends, send them my way. I could use some variety in my life," Amélie teased with a playful wink.

Beatrice laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "I'll keep that in mind."

Beatrice was relieved that Amélie had decided not to go out with her mate again, but who was this mysterious woman in his life that had distracted him so much during their date? She thanked Amélie before leaving the boutique, her mind buzzing with more questions than when she had arrived.

Later that evening, Beatrice made her way to the Blackwood Mansion, using the address Lillian had given her.

"Are you Beatrice?" one of the guards asked as she approached the grand iron gates.

She smiled, touched that Lillian had informed them of her arrival. "Yes, that's me."

"Come with me. Miss Dumont is waiting for you inside," he said, gesturing for her to follow.

Beatrice nodded and trailed behind the guard toward the mansion’s entrance. The guard was undeniably attractive—tall, with sharp features and an air of quiet confidence. She made a mental note to ask if he was single—not for herself, but for Amélie. The thought made her chuckle as she stepped into the breathtaking foyer of the Blackwood estate.

"Beatrice!" Lillian squealed, rushing forward to envelop her in a tight hug. "I’m so glad you’re here! Come on, let me give you the grand tour!"

Laughing, the two friends wandered through the mansion, marveling at its lavish interiors—the crystal chandeliers, the sweeping staircases, and, most impressively, the stunning infinity pool in the backyard. Beatrice couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at Lillian’s living situation. Her bedroom alone was the size of Beatrice’s entire apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

"I’m going to change into my new pajamas," Beatrice announced, heading toward Lillian’s ensuite bathroom.

"Perfect! Then we’ll crack open that bottle of wine I’ve been saving. I also ordered pizza, and we can binge-watch the cheesiest rom-coms we can find," Lillian declared, flopping onto her plush bed with a grin.

Beatrice laughed. This was exactly what she needed—a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts in her head.

She quickly changed into her soft pajamas and twisted her hair into a messy bun before rejoining Lillian downstairs in the living room. Lillian poured them each a generous glass of wine before settling onto the couch beside her.

"We so needed this," Lillian said, clinking her glass against Beatrice’s before taking a sip.

"Absolutely," Beatrice agreed, savoring the rich taste of the wine.

For a moment, she considered telling Lillian about her mate—but voicing it aloud would make it real, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not until she had more answers. Not until she knew what she was going to do about him.

So, for now, she pushed the thought aside and let herself sink into the comfort of good wine, bad movies, and the company of her best friend.

"Are you lighting incense or something?" Beatrice asked abruptly, catching a whiff of something delicious. "It smells amazing in here."

"Could be Lucien in the kitchen. He mentioned making dessert for us," Lillian replied.

Beatrice arched a brow.

"Who's Lucien?" she inquired.

"The head chef." Beatrice laughed.

"Of course you'd have a personal chef," Beatrice teased.

Lillian shrugged.

"Can't blame the Blackwoods for that," Lillian sighed. "But Lucien's a good guy. Charming, a bit of a flirt, but harmless."

"I need to see what he's making," Beatrice declared, rising to her feet. "That scent is irresistible."

Lillian frowned, inhaling deeply.

"I don’t smell anything. My nose is a bit stuffy," she admitted. "The kitchen’s just around the corner. I’ll stay here and pick a movie."

Beatrice nodded, taking one last generous sip of her wine before setting the glass down. She hurried toward the kitchen, the aroma growing richer with each step. It was oddly familiar, and her curiosity burned—what was he making? Maybe this Lucien would let her sneak a taste.

But the moment she stepped into the kitchen, her entire body locked in place.