Chapter 285

"Tristan is one of my top students," Maximilian continued. "He’ll be a difficult opponent to beat."

Tristan looked smug. Was this some kind of intimidation tactic?

I forced another smile. "Is that so?"

"I had an excellent teacher," he said, then abruptly changed the subject. "Are you here alone?"

The question caught me off guard. I blinked. "Uh, yes. My friend had other plans."

"Just a friend?" he pressed.

"Yes," I said, studying him. His expressions were easy to read—confident, flirtatious, a little too self-assured. If he fought the way he talked, he’d be predictable. Still, I’d need to research his techniques before we inevitably faced off.

Before I could respond, servers began bringing out the food. Tristan watched me with an unreadable expression that set me on edge.

"I should take my seat," I said, gesturing toward my table. "It was nice meeting you."

I nodded politely to Alpha Maximilian before walking away.

Most guests were already seated, but one chair beside mine remained empty. Had someone decided not to come? Maybe I should’ve gone with Beatrice after all.

So far, this dinner wasn’t giving me any useful intel. Everyone was too careful, too guarded—hiding their weaknesses.

But I’d find them.

The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s estate. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the sprawling gardens below. She tightened the silk robe around her, the fabric whispering against her skin.

Last night had been a blur—heated arguments, whispered confessions, and the weight of Donovan’s betrayal still fresh in her mind. But today was different. Today, she had made a decision.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Lillian?" Beatrice’s voice was gentle, laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

Lillian turned, forcing a small smile. "Just thinking."

Beatrice stepped inside, her dark curls bouncing as she crossed the room. "You’ve been quiet since last night. What’s going on?"

Lillian hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "I can’t keep pretending, Bea. Donovan chose Evelyn. And I—I need to move on."

Beatrice’s eyes softened. "You deserve better than him."

"I know." Lillian’s fingers curled around the balcony railing. "But it’s not just about Donovan anymore. It’s about me. What I want."

A flicker of understanding passed between them. Beatrice grinned. "So, what’s the plan?"

Lillian smirked. "First, I’m going to that gala tonight. Alone."

Beatrice’s brows shot up. "Sebastian’s annual charity event? The one where half the Lycan elite will be watching your every move?"

"Exactly." Lillian’s voice was steady, her resolve unshaken. "Let them watch."

Meanwhile, in the study downstairs, Sebastian Blackwood sifted through a stack of documents, his expression unreadable. Theodore Whitmore stood by the window, arms crossed.

"You’re sure about this?" Theodore asked.

Sebastian didn’t look up. "She’s stronger than she thinks."

Theodore sighed. "And if Donovan shows up?"

A shadow crossed Sebastian’s face. "Then he’ll regret it."

The air between them grew heavy. Theodore nodded once before turning to leave. Just as he reached the door, Sebastian spoke again.

"Tell Marcus to double security tonight. I won’t take any chances."

Theodore paused. "You think there’ll be trouble?"

Sebastian’s lips curled into a cold smile. "I’m counting on it."

As evening fell, the grand ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers. Lillian descended the staircase in a sleek emerald gown, the fabric hugging her curves before cascading to the floor in delicate waves. Every head turned.

Whispers followed her like shadows.

"Is that Donovan’s ex?"

"I heard she’s staying with Sebastian now."

"Poor thing—abandoned by her fated mate."

Lillian ignored them, her chin lifted.

Then, across the room, her gaze locked onto a familiar figure.

Donovan.

And beside him, Evelyn, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm.

Lillian’s pulse spiked, but she didn’t falter. Instead, she strode forward—straight toward them.

Donovan’s eyes widened. "Lillian—"

She didn’t let him finish. With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she raised her glass. "To new beginnings."

And then she walked right past him.

Straight into Sebastian’s waiting arms.

The room erupted in murmurs.

Sebastian’s fingers brushed her waist, his voice low. "Bold move."

Lillian met his gaze, her own burning with defiance. "You haven’t seen anything yet."

The low hum of conversation filled the dining hall, but my attention was drawn to the two girls at the table beside mine. I studied them discreetly—the way one nervously bounced her knee, the other drumming her fingers against the tablecloth. Every detail mattered. The competition didn’t begin in the arena; it started the moment we stepped off the plane.

Every second was a test. Every interaction, a potential advantage—or a fatal misstep.

Then I felt it—an unmistakable presence sliding into the seat beside me. My breath hitched as I turned, and my stomach twisted.

Tristan Whitlock.

His lips curled into that infuriating smirk as his gaze raked over me. Of course, he’d be seated right next to me. Just my luck.

“What are you doing?” I hissed under my breath.

He plucked the nameplate from the table and dangled it in front of me. My eyes widened. His seat. Naturally.

“So,” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath tickled my ear, “are you seeing anyone?”

I jerked back, glaring. “None of your business.”

His grin only widened. “What if I wanted to take you out?”

Arrogant bastard.

“I don’t date the competition,” I snapped, finally meeting his gaze. He was too close, too smug—too everything.

Then—CRASH.

The sound of shattering porcelain ripped through the room. Every head whipped toward the source. My heart lurched as I turned to see Sebastian Blackwood standing rigid, his plate shattered across the table. Food splattered everywhere. His eyes—those piercing, wolf-bright eyes—burned with barely restrained fury.

The entire room froze. Even the other Lycans gaped, stunned.

Only Alpha Maximilian Voss remained unbothered, sipping his wine with a smirk. Had he provoked this? The silence was so thick I could hear my own pulse thundering in my ears.

“What the hell was that?” Tristan muttered.

“No idea,” I breathed, my throat tight. Sebastian wasn’t looking at me—he was glaring at the room like it had personally offended him. His lips moved, but the words were too low for even my enhanced hearing to catch.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

My chest constricted. A strange, urgent pull tugged at me—follow him. Make sure he’s okay. Whatever had set him off, it had been explosive. And dangerous.

Servants scurried to clean the mess while murmurs rose among the Lycans. The scent of freshly served food wafted through the air, but my appetite was gone.

“Excuse me,” I said abruptly, standing. “I need the restroom.”

No one questioned it. The second I was out of sight, I quickened my pace, slipping into the hallway. The silence here was eerie—deliberate.

Where had he gone?

I moved swiftly, my pulse racing. Something was wrong. And I needed to find out what.

My entire body went rigid—was someone watching me?

Before I could utter a word, strong fingers closed around my wrist. I whirled around, my pulse skyrocketing as I was yanked into a nearby supply closet and pinned against the cold wall. That familiar sandalwood-and-iron scent, the muscular frame pressing against me—there was no mistaking who it was.

"S...Sebastian?" I gasped.

His low chuckle vibrated against my ear as his teeth grazed my lobe. "How sweet—you remembered." I squirmed beneath him, but his grip only tightened, his body molding against mine like a second skin.

"Let me go!" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my anger.

"Why? So you can run back to your precious Tristan?" His words dripped venom, the barely restrained fury making my blood run cold.

Was this jealousy? The realization hit me like a physical blow. Sebastian Blackwood, the untouchable Lycan chairman, was jealous over me?

"I should've torn his throat out when I had the chance," he growled, the predatory edge in his voice raising goosebumps along my arms.

His lips traced the sensitive curve of my neck, and I swear my heart threatened to break free from my ribcage. The contrast between his gentle touch and lethal words sent my senses into overdrive.

"Next time I see his hands on you..." His mouth hovered millimeters from mine, our breaths mingling. "I'll make sure he never touches anything again."