Chapter 229

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s sprawling estate. Below, the pack grounds buzzed with activity—warriors training, maids tending to the gardens, and children darting between the trees in playful chaos. Yet, despite the lively scene, her thoughts were anything but peaceful.

Last night’s confrontation with Donovan still burned in her mind. The way his new mate, Evelyn, had smirked at her, as if she had already won. The memory made her fingers curl into fists.

"Thinking about him again?"

Lillian turned to see Beatrice leaning against the railing beside her, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Her best friend’s sharp eyes missed nothing.

"Not by choice," Lillian muttered, crossing her arms. "It’s just—how could he move on so quickly? After everything we—"

"Because he’s a coward," Beatrice cut in, her tone uncharacteristically harsh. "And Evelyn? Please. She’s about as genuine as a three-dollar bill."

Lillian huffed a laugh despite herself. Beatrice always knew how to lighten the mood.

Before she could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps drew their attention. Oliver, Sebastian’s seven-year-old son, skidded to a stop in front of them, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Lillian! Dad wants to see you in his office. Right now!"

Her heart skipped a beat. Sebastian rarely summoned her so urgently.

Beatrice raised a brow. "Wonder what that’s about."

Lillian swallowed hard. "Guess I’ll find out."

Sebastian’s office was as imposing as the man himself—dark mahogany furniture, shelves lined with ancient tomes, and the faint scent of leather and cedar. He stood by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the morning light.

"You wanted to see me?" Lillian asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

He turned, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "We have a problem."

Her stomach twisted. "What kind of problem?"

"Donovan and Evelyn are making moves against us," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "They’ve been spreading rumors—questioning your place in this pack, your loyalty."

Lillian’s breath hitched. "That’s ridiculous. I’ve done nothing but—"

"I know," Sebastian interrupted, his tone softening slightly. "But perception is everything in our world. And right now, they’re winning the narrative."

She clenched her jaw. "So what do we do?"

A slow, predatory smile curved his lips. "We fight back. And we do it publicly."

Lillian’s pulse quickened. "How?"

Sebastian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "There’s a gathering tonight—Alphas from neighboring packs will be there. You’ll attend as my guest. And you’ll remind everyone exactly who you are."

Her mind raced. A public appearance? After weeks of whispers and sidelong glances?

Beatrice’s words echoed in her head. Coward.

Lillian lifted her chin. "I’ll be ready."

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with approval. "Good. Because tonight, we show them all exactly what happens when they underestimate you."

As she left his office, Lillian’s phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

Looking forward to seeing you tonight, little wolf. Don’t disappoint.

Her blood ran cold.

Donovan.

The game was on.

“Bea…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she tore her gaze away from me to stare at the floor. “I’m so sorry…” Her voice was rough, strained. “But I can’t stay here…”

“Wait—what?” My brows shot up in alarm. “Why not? What happened? Talk to me, please.”

She shook her head violently, her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back tears.

“I have to go…” The words were barely a whisper, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.

Before I could react, she was already rushing past me, her footsteps echoing through the grand foyer as she bolted for the front door.

“Beatrice!” I called after her, but it was too late. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving me standing there, stunned.

I turned back to Lucien, who let out a shaky exhale, his expression dazed, as if he’d just snapped out of a trance. His dark eyes flickered to me, then to Giselle, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over her chest as she slid off the kitchen counter.

“What the hell was that about?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

Lucien didn’t answer her. Instead, his gaze locked onto me, intense and searching.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

I blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just answer the question,” he repeated, firmer this time, making me instinctively take a step back. His eyes were wild, his jaw clenched—something was very, very wrong. My pulse hammered in my throat, a mix of confusion and rising unease.

“My best friend,” I said slowly, studying his reaction. “Beatrice Whitaker.”

For a brief moment, his expression softened, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“Beatrice…” He murmured her name like he was savoring it, rolling it over his tongue. And from the way his lips curved ever so slightly, it was clear—he liked the taste of it.

That only made me more suspicious. I’d never seen Beatrice act like this before, and Lucien? This was completely out of character for him too.

I glanced over my shoulder at the closed door, my mind racing with possibilities.

“Did you know her or something?” Giselle cut in, her voice laced with a sharp edge of jealousy. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her fingers tightening around her arms.

Lucien looked at her, and I could see the apology in his eyes—but he didn’t voice it. Instead, he turned away, striding past me with purpose, heading straight for the front door.

He didn’t run like Beatrice had, but his steps were quick, determined.

And I couldn’t just let him leave without answers.

I chased after him, following him out onto the sprawling front patio. The cool evening air brushed against my skin as Lucien scanned the empty driveway, his frown deepening.

I could practically hear Lucien's heart hammering against his ribs. I was equally stunned that Beatrice had managed to slip away so effortlessly. She must’ve bolted to her car and sped off, leaving no trace behind. Lucien slumped against the porch railing, exhaling heavily as his shoulders sagged under some invisible weight.

The front door flew open and then slammed shut with enough force to rattle the windows. I didn’t need to turn around to know who had stormed out after us. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Giselle standing there, arms crossed tightly over her chest, lips pressed into a razor-thin line. Her glare could’ve melted steel.

“What the hell, Lucien?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Who was that woman? How could you just chase after her and leave me standing there like an idiot?”

Lucien dragged a hand through his tousled blond hair before turning to face her. His expression was uncharacteristically solemn, and the intensity in his gaze made Giselle take an involuntary step back.

“I’m sorry, Giselle,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “Kissing you in the kitchen was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. You were right—we shouldn’t mix business with pleasure.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Since when did Lucien—the king of reckless flirting—suddenly grow a conscience? Giselle looked just as blindsided, her mouth falling open in shock.

“W-what are you saying?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly as she fought to keep her composure.

Lucien exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “I’m saying this—whatever this is—” He gestured between them. “—it’s over.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument.

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Lillian's bedroom as she stirred awake. Her body still hummed with the lingering sensations from last night's passionate encounter with Sebastian. A delicious shiver ran down her spine as she recalled how his strong hands had explored every inch of her body, marking her as his in ways that went beyond the physical.

"Morning, beautiful," Sebastian's deep voice rumbled beside her, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. The sheets barely covered his sculpted torso, revealing fresh scratch marks from their lovemaking.

Lillian turned to face him, her cheeks flushing. "Someone was... enthusiastic last night," she teased, brushing her fingertips over the marks.

Sebastian captured her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Can you blame me? My mate smells irresistible after a full moon." His golden eyes darkened with renewed desire. "And you taste even better."

Before Lillian could respond, the door burst open. Oliver stood there, his small face scrunched in disgust. "Eww! Dad, why are you naked again?"

Sebastian sighed, pulling the sheets higher. "Knocking, Oliver. We've talked about this."

"But Victoria said—"

"Victoria needs to mind her own business," Sebastian growled, though there was no real heat behind it.

Lillian giggled, reaching for her robe. "Come on, let's get you breakfast." As she moved to stand, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She gasped, clutching her stomach.

Sebastian was at her side instantly. "Lillian? What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," she panted, the pain intensifying. "It feels like—"

Her words cut off as her body convulsed violently. Sebastian caught her just as her eyes rolled back, her body going limp in his arms.

"Lillian!" Sebastian roared, panic lacing his voice. "Theodore! Call Dr. Langford now!"

Oliver began to cry as Sebastian carried Lillian's unconscious form to the bed. "Is she gonna die like Mommy did?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched. "No. Never." But as he looked down at his mate's pale face, a cold dread settled in his chest. This wasn't normal. This wasn't just morning sickness.

And when he caught the faintest whiff of wolfsbane beneath Lillian's natural scent, his blood ran cold.

Someone had poisoned his mate.