Chapter 269

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 oversized bed, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Sebastian had already left for an early meeting, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the silk sheets.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, pulling the duvet higher.

The door creaked open, revealing Beatrice, her best friend, balancing a tray of breakfast in one hand and a stack of glossy magazines in the other. "Morning, sleepyhead. Thought you might need some fuel before the big day."

Lillian groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Ugh, don’t remind me. The press conference is in three hours, and I still don’t know what to wear."

Beatrice plopped onto the bed, flipping open the top magazine. "Relax. You’re the Luna of the most powerful pack in the country. You could show up in pajamas, and they’d still call it ‘effortlessly chic.’"

Lillian snorted, grabbing a croissant from the tray. "Tell that to the fashion critics. Last time, they said my dress made me look like I ‘borrowed it from my grandmother’s closet.’"

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Ignore them. Besides, today isn’t about fashion. It’s about announcing the new alliance with the Blackwood Pack. Everyone’s going to be too busy gawking at Sebastian to notice what you’re wearing."

Lillian’s stomach twisted at the mention of the alliance. The Blackwood Pack had been rivals for decades, and now, they were merging under Sebastian’s leadership. The press would have a field day.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Donovan.

"Heard about the press conference. Don’t forget who you really belong to."

Her fingers tightened around the phone. Even now, after everything, he couldn’t let go.

Beatrice frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Lillian forced a smile. "Nothing. Just spam." She tossed the phone aside. "Help me pick an outfit before I change my mind and hide under the covers forever."

Beatrice grinned, flipping through the magazines. "Oh, I have the perfect dress. It’s red—bold, powerful, and guaranteed to make Sebastian’s jaw drop."

Lillian laughed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "Fine. But if the critics compare me to a stop sign, I’m blaming you."

As Beatrice rummaged through the closet, Lillian’s gaze drifted to the window. The city sprawled below, alive and bustling. Today would change everything.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready.

The line at the reception desk snaked across the lobby, packed with guests checking in.

"We're going to be stuck here for ages," Beatrice groaned, shifting her weight impatiently.

I checked the time—only 1 PM.

"We have plenty of time," I reassured her. "The welcome dinner doesn't start until six."

According to the itinerary Alpha Maximilian had sent me, tonight's event was a competitors' dinner, a chance to meet the other participants and judges. My stomach twisted at the thought. Who would I be facing?

Surprisingly, the line moved faster than expected. Within twenty minutes, we reached the front. A resort employee—Felicity, according to her name tag—waved us forward.

"Checking in?" she asked with a polite smile.

"Yes, under Lillian Dumont," I answered.

She typed something into the system, then glanced up. "Ah, you're here for the Gamma competition?"

I nodded. It shouldn’t have surprised me that this was a shifter-owned resort. The air was thick with dominance, and nearly everyone wore Gamma-branded gear. Intimidating, to say the least.

Felicity continued typing before pausing abruptly. Her gaze flicked between me and Beatrice. "The reservation is for one. Is she staying with you?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I hadn’t thought to inform the hotel—or Alpha Maximilian—that Beatrice was coming. Stupid oversight.

"Uh, yes. She can share my bed," I said quickly, hoping that would suffice.

Felicity hesitated, clearly debating whether to allow it.

Then a familiar presence materialized beside me, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned to see a towering figure—one I'd only glimpsed before.

"How about we upgrade her room instead?" Benedict Grayson, Alpha Maximilian’s Beta, suggested, his sharp gaze assessing us.

Felicity stiffened. "I'm afraid we're fully booked..."

"It's really not necessary—" I began.

Benedict cut me off, pulling out his phone with deliberate slowness. "Then I suppose I’ll have to inform Alpha Maximilian that his guests are being inconvenienced."

Felicity paled. "That won’t be needed! We do have one suite available—a queen’s suite on the top floor. Two beds, a half kitchen."

"Perfect," Benedict said, tucking his phone away.

"You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble," I protested.

"Nonsense," Benedict countered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You’re our guest. Enjoy your stay, Lillian Dumont."

With that abrupt dismissal, he pivoted on his heel and strode away without another word.

Felicity's fingers trembled slightly as she typed on the keyboard, deliberately avoiding eye contact. After several tense minutes, she finally clicked the last button with a decisive tap. Gathering the materials, she handed me two keycards, a glossy resort map, and a neatly printed itinerary.

"Your suite is in the Sapphire Tower, room 606," she informed me with forced professionalism. "We hope you'll enjoy your stay with us."

I offered a polite nod. "Thank you."

As I reached for my luggage, Felicity quickly intervened. "Please, allow our bell staff to handle that," she insisted, gesturing toward a uniformed attendant waiting nearby. "At Moonstone Resort, our guests shouldn't lift a single finger."

"Are you certain?" I hesitated, glancing at the expensive-looking bags. "I don't want to impose."

Her smile tightened. "It's our pleasure, truly."

With a shared look of amazement, Beatrice and I turned toward the breathtaking glass elevator. The moment the doors closed and we began ascending, the entire resort unfolded beneath us like a glittering jewel box. The panoramic view stole our breath away—infinity pools shimmering like liquid sapphire, lush tropical gardens, and the endless turquoise ocean stretching to the horizon.

Beatrice gripped my arm, her nails digging in slightly. "Would you look at that," she whispered, pressing her forehead against the glass. "I've never seen anything like this in my life."

Neither had I. The higher we rose, the more surreal it became, like floating into a dream. Somewhere between the 30th and 40th floor, a terrible thought struck me—this elevator was moving suspiciously fast. Too fast.

And then the lights flickered.

A sharp jolt sent us stumbling. The elevator groaned ominously as it...