Chapter 296

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of Sebastian Blackwood's private study, casting golden streaks across the antique mahogany desk where Lillian sat fidgeting. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings on the armrests of the leather chair - Sebastian's chair - that she'd been instructed to occupy.

"Relax," Sebastian murmured, his deep voice resonating through the sunlit room as he poured two cups of steaming Earl Grey. "You're not in trouble."

Lillian swallowed hard, watching the way his muscles flexed beneath his tailored shirt as he moved. Even after all this time, the Lycan chairman's effortless grace made her pulse quicken. "Then why the formal summons?" she asked, accepting the delicate china cup. "You usually just text when you want to see me."

Sebastian's lips quirked as he settled into the chair opposite her. "Because this isn't about us." He set down his cup with deliberate precision. "It's about Donovan."

The name hit Lillian like a physical blow. Her tea sloshed dangerously close to the rim as her hands jerked. "What about him?"

"Don't play coy, darling." Sebastian's golden eyes darkened to molten amber. "I know he's been sending you letters. My question is - why haven't you told me?"

A cold sweat broke out along Lillian's spine. She'd thought she'd been so careful, burning each handwritten note in the fireplace of her dorm room after reading. "How did you—"

"Nothing happens in my territory without my knowledge." Sebastian leaned forward, the predatory glint in his eyes making her wolf whimper in submission. "Especially when it concerns my mate."

Lillian's breath caught. They'd never actually used that word before, not in this context. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension as Sebastian reached across the desk, capturing her trembling hand in his.

"I need you to trust me," he said, his thumb stroking her knuckles in a gesture that was equal parts soothing and possessive. "Whatever game Donovan is playing ends today."

Outside, a sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, as if the universe itself was reacting to Sebastian's declaration. Lillian shivered, though the room was warm. She knew that tone - it was the same one he used before making business rivals disappear.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

Sebastian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "That depends entirely on you, little wolf. But first—" He released her hand to open a drawer, withdrawing a thick envelope stamped with the Winslow family crest. "Tell me what he's been promising you in these."

Lillian's blood ran cold. The envelope contained every single letter she thought she'd destroyed, perfectly preserved. As she met Sebastian's burning gaze, she realized two terrifying truths simultaneously:

First, she'd severely underestimated how closely she was being watched.

And second, the real game had only just begun.

The moment the first howl pierced the air, I bolted. My legs carried me faster than my thoughts could catch up—no strategy, no plan, just pure adrenaline. Staying in the center of that shifting, snarling chaos wasn’t an option. If Genevieve had lost control of her wolf, others might too, and I wasn’t about to become prey in a hunt I never signed up for.

The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and growls. I refused to glance toward the Lycan section, though I felt the weight of his gaze like a brand. Donovan was there. What was he thinking? That I was running from a fight?

No.

This wasn’t cowardice. This was survival.

The snapping of teeth behind me sent a jolt down my spine. I didn’t dare look back, but I could sense them—wolves with wild eyes, their auras pulsing with aggression. One in particular stood out: light brown fur streaked with green-gold eyes, too close for comfort. Not Genevieve. This one moved with a predator’s grace, and I wasn’t sticking around to find out if she was still human enough to reason with.

It had been so long since I’d shifted in front of others that I barely remembered what my wolf looked like. Beatrice had once described her as "adorable," with snowy fur, gray-tipped paws like mittens, and eyes that mirrored mine. Not exactly the most intimidating presence in a fight.

The wooded section of the battle zone loomed ahead—a tangled maze of trees meant for training exercises. Perfect. Wolves could climb, but not like humans. Not like me. I vaulted onto the lowest branch of the tallest oak I could find, scrambling upward until the world spread out beneath me.

From this height, the chaos below crystallized into something almost manageable. Wolves tore into each other in the arena’s center, some still human enough to scream insults at my retreating back. "Coward!" one spat, shifting mid-snarl. I ignored them. Let them think what they wanted. I’d rather be called a coward than end up as someone’s trophy.

Only a handful had followed me. One—pale blue eyes, snow-white fur dappled with brown—was already scaling the trunk, her claws digging into the bark with frustrating determination. The others circled below, snapping at each other like overgrown pups.

A plan formed in my mind, reckless and half-baked. Either it would work, or it would get me killed.

No time to second-guess.

I waited until the white wolf was just within reach, then dropped.

The impact knocked the air from both of us, but I rolled first, twisting to pin her beneath me. Her snarls were deafening, her teeth inches from my throat.

"Listen to me," I hissed, pressing my forearm against her windpipe. "You don’t want to do this."

Her pupils dilated—just for a second—and I saw it: the flicker of human awareness beneath the feral rage.

Then the others lunged.

This was a terrible idea. I was going to get myself killed. Sebastian would be furious, and I’d have to endure one of Beatrice’s infamous lectures. The only way this reckless plan would work was if my wolf cooperated—but right now, she was restless, her anxiety pulsing through me like a second heartbeat.

"We got this..." I murmured to her, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need you now. Trust me, so I can trust you." We had been partners for so long, bound by more than just instinct.

A wave of calm settled over me, and I felt the corner of my lips twitch into a faint smile. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself, waiting for the perfect moment. The shifter below me snarled, its golden eyes locked onto my position.

I reached for the thick branch above me, gripping it tightly for support as I carefully shifted my weight onto the very edge of the one beneath my feet. The wood groaned under the pressure, bending dangerously low—so low that I was practically dangling myself right in front of the beast.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

One wrong move, and I’d be nothing more than prey.

But I wasn’t prey.

I was the hunter.

And this shifter had no idea what was coming.