Chapter 257

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, painting the marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stretched lazily in the silk sheets, her body still humming from the previous night’s passion. The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly Sebastian clung to her skin, a heady reminder of their bond.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Lillian?" Sophia Delacroix’s voice floated in, gentle but firm. "Mr. Blackwood has requested your presence in the dining room. Breakfast is served."

Lillian sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair. "Thank you, Sophia. I’ll be down shortly."

She slipped into a satin robe, the fabric whispering against her skin as she padded barefoot toward the ensuite bathroom. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman glowing—cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, eyes bright with satisfaction.

Mated life suits you, her wolf purred.

Lillian smirked. Shut up.

Downstairs, the dining room was a vision of elegance. Crystal chandeliers dripped light over the long mahogany table, where Sebastian sat at the head, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit. His dark eyes lifted as she entered, a slow, possessive smile curving his lips.

"Good morning, darling." His voice was a velvet caress.

Lillian’s pulse stuttered. Even after all this time, he could still make her breath catch. "Morning," she murmured, sliding into the chair beside him.

Theodore Whitmore, the ever-efficient butler, appeared with a silver tray of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. "Your usual, Miss Lillian."

"Thank you, Theodore." She took a sip, savoring the rich, dark blend.

Sebastian’s fingers brushed against hers beneath the table, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. "Sleep well?"

Lillian arched a brow. "You know I didn’t."

His chuckle was low, sinful. "Neither did I."

Before she could retort, Marcus Grayson strode in, his expression grim. "Alpha, we have a situation."

Sebastian’s playful demeanor vanished in an instant. "Report."

"Evelyn and Donovan were spotted near the eastern border last night. They’ve been gathering rogue werewolves—possibly planning an attack."

Lillian’s grip tightened around her coffee cup. Donovan. Her ex-fated mate, the man who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. "Double the patrols. I want every inch of our territory secured."

Marcus nodded. "Already done. But there’s more." He hesitated, glancing at Lillian. "They’ve been spreading rumors… about you and the Alpha."

Lillian frowned. "What kind of rumors?"

Marcus exhaled sharply. "That your mating bond is a sham. That Sebastian forced you into it."

Sebastian’s growl reverberated through the room, the air thickening with his barely restrained fury. "They’re testing my patience."

Lillian placed a hand on his arm, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Let them talk. It doesn’t change anything."

But the unease in her chest said otherwise.

Because if Donovan was bold enough to challenge Sebastian publicly, he wasn’t just after power.

He was after her.

Later that afternoon, Beatrice burst into Lillian’s dorm room, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You’ll never guess who just arrived on campus!"

Lillian barely looked up from her textbook. "Who?"

"Celeste Devereaux! The supermodel! She’s here for some charity event, and rumor has it she’s very close with Sebastian."

Lillian’s pen stilled.

Beatrice winced. "Oh. You didn’t know?"

Lillian forced a smile. "Of course I knew."

But the sinking feeling in her stomach told her this was far from over.

And when her phone buzzed with an unknown number—a single photo of Sebastian and Celeste laughing intimately at a gala—Lillian’s blood ran cold.

The caption read: Does he tell you everything, little mate?

Her wolf snarled.

Game on.

Every shifter across the globe had their eyes glued to these competitions, their nerves frayed at the thought that I might be one of the competitors they’d be watching. And honestly? I was thrilled—not just to escape for a few weeks, but to finally step into the arena I’d dreamed of for so long.

But excitement wasn’t the only thing coursing through me.

Nerves. Raw, unrelenting nerves.

This was it. My entire future hinged on this moment, on this competition. One misstep, and everything I’d worked for could crumble.

My professors assured me I was ready. My family and friends cheered me on. But the one person whose support I craved most? Nowhere to be found.

Sebastian.

Just thinking his name made my chest tighten. He’d been avoiding me for weeks, and I didn’t know why.

Distracted, I barely registered Oliver’s movements as we sparred. I knew better than to train with my mind elsewhere, but arrogance whispered that I could handle it. That I was good enough to push through.

I wasn’t.

Mid-demonstration of a new archery technique, my focus shattered. My aim faltered. And before I could react—

Thunk.

A scream tore through the night.

Oliver’s.

I didn’t remember sprinting to him, only the sickening sight of an arrow embedded in his thigh, blood soaking through his pants. My hands shook as I pressed against the wound, terrified to pull the shaft free.

He’d never cried like this before. Never clung to me with such desperation, his face pale, tears streaking down his cheeks.

Thank the Moon it wasn’t worse. Even without his wolf, Oliver would heal—but not without help.

“OLIVER!” Victoria’s shriek cut through the chaos. When had she arrived? Before I could speak, she shoved me aside with enough force to send me sprawling. “You monster! I saw what you did! You shot him!”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

What could I say? She wasn’t wrong. I’d been careless. Reckless. That arrow could’ve killed him.

“We need an ambulance,” Victoria snapped, her voice trembling.

Fumbling for my phone, I barely registered the blood smearing across the screen as I dialed. The conversation blurred into white noise, my body numb as I sat there—

My back pressed against the rough bark of an ancient oak, fingers trembling around the phone that had just delivered devastating news. The call had cut off abruptly, leaving me staring in horror at the scene unfolding before me. Oliver lay sprawled on the forest floor, his small frame shuddering with each labored breath as crimson pooled beneath him. Victoria cradled her little brother, her usually flawless designer blouse now stained scarlet as she desperately tried to stem the bleeding. The arrow protruding from Oliver's thigh looked grotesquely out of place - like some medieval torture device in our modern world.

"Don't pull it!" I wanted to scream, but my voice had abandoned me. The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of damp leaves. Oliver's face had taken on a ghastly pallor, his lips tinged blue against his ashen skin. Each passing second seemed to stretch into eternity as we watched the life drain from those bright eyes that usually sparkled with mischief.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint wail of approaching sirens. Would they make it in time? My knees buckled as the reality of the situation crashed over me - Sebastian's precious son, the heir to the Blackwood legacy, might die right here in this clearing because of me. The weight of that possibility pressed down on my chest like a physical force, making it impossible to breathe.

Victoria's tear-streaked face turned toward me, her expression shifting from desperation to something far more dangerous. In that moment, I saw the truth reflected in her eyes - this wasn't just an accident. Someone had targeted Oliver deliberately. And as the future Alpha female of the pack, she would make them pay in blood.