Chapter 266

Lillian's POV

"Ow, Lillian!" Beatrice yelped. "You're crushing my arm!"

My nails dug so deep into her skin that tiny beads of blood surfaced. My heart hammered violently against my ribs, and my ears throbbed as if they might burst. Squeezing my eyes shut, I clung to her like a lifeline while she struggled to pry my fingers loose.

"Seriously, let go!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Finally, I released her and gripped the armrests instead, my knuckles turning white. Rubbing her sore arm, Beatrice muttered under her breath, "Training to be a gamma, yet you’re terrified of a little turbulence."

She wasn’t wrong. Flying petrified me. Wolves weren’t meant to be suspended thousands of feet in the air—we belonged on solid ground. What if the engines failed? What if we plummeted into the ocean in a fiery wreck? This was a risk I never wanted to take, yet here I was, strapped into a metal death trap, hurtling toward some tropical destination.

Beatrice, however, seemed utterly unfazed. She pressed her face against the window, marveling at the cottony clouds drifting past. "You’re missing the most breathtaking view," she murmured, her voice filled with awe.

Reluctantly, I cracked my eyes open. The plane had finally steadied, and the pressure in my ears eased slightly. Beatrice’s radiant smile caught me off guard—after everything we’d endured these past few days, I hadn’t expected to see joy light up her face again. Maybe this nightmare flight was worth it after all.

"How much longer?" I croaked, refusing to glance outside.

"We just took off," she laughed. "Relax. Breathe."

"Relax? We’re dangling in the sky like a bird’s chew toy!"

She shrugged. "No other way to get there unless you fancy swimming across three oceans." A teasing smirk played on her lips. "Besides, you’re the one who insisted on this competition."

The sudden appearance of the stewardess made me jump. "Anything to drink, ladies?"

"Water, please," I rasped. She handed me a bottle before turning to Beatrice.

"Coffee would be perfect," Beatrice said.

"We just had coffee," I reminded her.

She shrugged again. "It’s a long flight. I need to stay awake."

The stewardess poured her a cup, adding sweeteners and creamer before moving down the aisle. I gulped my water, willing my pulse to slow.

"You’ll survive, Lillian," Beatrice said, nudging me. "Just pretend you’re on a really fast train."

I exhaled sharply, gripping the armrests tighter. "Trains don’t fall out of the sky."

She rolled her eyes but grinned. "Yet."

"Have you talked to Lucien?" I asked, desperate to distract myself from the fact we were cruising at thirty thousand feet.

Beatrice's face drained of color at my question.

"No," she whispered, fingers tightening around her armrest. "I've been glued to your side since yesterday. When exactly would I have spoken to him?"

I shrugged, taking a slow sip of my sparkling water.

"He's got your number. Didn't know if he'd reached out," I said casually, though my pulse kicked up a notch.

"Excuse me?!" Beatrice's head snapped toward me, her golden eyes blazing. "Why in the goddess's name does he have my number?!"

I squirmed under her glare, the airplane seat suddenly feeling like a torture device.

"I... might have given it to him..."

"Lillian!" Her shriek made several passengers turn their heads. "Have you lost your damn mind?!"

"Because he was worried!" I blurted out. "When I mentioned you were coming with me—"

"You told him where I was going?!" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "That's a massive breach of trust!"

"Lucien's my friend, Bea..."

"And I'm supposed to be your best friend. Your ride-or-die." A single tear tracked down her cheek. "I thought you were on my side."

"I am on your side!" I grabbed her trembling hands. "Always. Which is exactly why I gave your fated mate your digits. You'll thank me when I'm catching your bouquet at your wedding."

Beatrice yanked her hands away, crossing her arms like armor. "What makes you so certain there'll be a wedding? The man's bedpost has more notches than a lumberjack's axe."

"He hasn't so much as glanced at another woman in weeks. Not even Giselle—and gods know I thought those two were endgame." The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to claw them back. Beatrice went sheet-white, her lower lip quivering.

I reached for her, but she flinched away. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive. I know how sacred the mate bond is... but Bea, Lucien isn't Donovan. If you'd just give him a chance—"

"I'll wind up exactly like you."

The words hit like a silver dagger to the gut. My breath stuttered, the cabin air suddenly too thin.

"What?" My voice came out strangled.

"Donovan cheated. Shattered your bond. Left you bleeding out emotionally every time he touches that witch." Beatrice's tears fell freely now. "I can't watch it destroy you day after day... why would you wish that hell on me?"

The overhead lights flickered as turbulence rocked the plane, but the real storm was raging between us. My wolf whimpered in my chest, mirroring the fresh ache spreading through me. Beatrice had just voiced my deepest fear—that I'd never be whole again.

And in that moment, thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic, I realized something terrifying: maybe my best friend was right to be afraid.