Chapter 298

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Lillian's bedroom, casting golden patterns across the rumpled sheets. She stretched languidly, her muscles still humming from last night's passionate encounter with Sebastian. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she recalled the way his strong hands had traced every curve of her body with possessive reverence.

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with its usual morning energy. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery croissants wafted through the halls, courtesy of Lucien's culinary magic. Giselle moved efficiently between rooms, directing the staff with quiet authority while Theodore oversaw the day's schedule with military precision.

Lillian padded barefoot to the walk-in closet, her fingers brushing against the silk robe Sebastian had gifted her last week. The deep emerald fabric matched her eyes perfectly - another example of his frightening attention to detail. As she tied the sash around her waist, her phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.

Beatrice's name flashed across the screen with three consecutive texts:

"Emergency brunch. NOW."

"Cassandra is spreading new rumors."

"Meet me at The Velvet Bean in 30."

Lillian's stomach dropped. Cassandra had been suspiciously quiet since the incident at the spring formal, which only meant she'd been plotting something particularly vile. The memory of that humiliating night still burned - the way Cassandra had "accidentally" spilled red wine down Lillian's white dress while whispering venomous lies about her relationship with Sebastian.

She dressed quickly in distressed jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater, pulling her hair into a messy bun. Sebastian would be in meetings all morning with Marcus and the regional alphas, which meant she could handle this without worrying him. Just as she reached for the doorknob, a small voice stopped her.

"Are you leaving again?" Oliver stood in the hallway, his pajama shirt buttoned crookedly and a stuffed wolf clutched under one arm. The vulnerability in his big brown eyes mirrored Sebastian's so perfectly it made her chest ache.

Lillian crouched to his level. "Just for a little while, sweetheart. Aunt Beatrice needs me."

Oliver scuffed his socked foot against the hardwood. "Dad said we could have pancakes together. He's making them special because..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because it's Mom's birthday today."

The revelation hit Lillian like a physical blow. Of course - she'd seen the date on Sebastian's calendar weeks ago but hadn't connected the dots. The way he'd held her extra tightly last night, the shadows in his eyes this morning - it all made sense now.

She pulled Oliver into a hug, inhaling the little-boy scent of maple syrup and fabric softener. "How about this? I'll talk to your dad, and we'll all have pancakes together tonight. With extra chocolate chips, just for you."

Oliver's answering smile could have powered the entire city. As he scampered off to find Frederick for their morning drive to school, Lillian pulled out her phone with trembling fingers. Beatrice would have to wait. Some things were more important than petty school gossip.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed nine times as Lillian turned toward Sebastian's study, her bare feet silent on the Persian rug. Through the partially open door, she could see him standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad shoulders tense beneath the tailored suit jacket. In his hands gleamed a silver picture frame she'd never seen before - the edges worn smooth from years of handling.

Her breath caught. This was a side of the powerful Lycan chairman few ever witnessed - the grieving widower, the devoted father. The man behind the legend.

Lillian raised her hand to knock just as Sebastian's phone rang. The sharp tone shattered the moment, and by the time he answered with a clipped "Blackwood," his mask of cool authority was firmly back in place. She caught only snippets of the conversation - "security breach," "northern border," and "immediate threat" - before Sebastian's entire demeanor shifted into what the pack called his "war mode."

He turned suddenly, his golden eyes locking onto hers through the doorway. The raw pain she'd glimpsed moments earlier had been replaced by something far more dangerous - the primal intensity of an alpha protecting what was his.

"We need to talk," he said, hanging up without ceremony. The picture frame disappeared into his desk drawer with practiced ease. "There's been an incident at the resort."

Lillian's pulse spiked. "Oliver—"

"Is perfectly safe," Sebastian assured her, already striding toward the door. "But we have a situation with Alpha Maximilian's pack. It seems our... mutual friend Donovan has been making trouble again."

The name landed between them like a live grenade. Lillian's fingers curled into fists at her sides as the familiar cocktail of anger and betrayal surged through her veins. After everything Donovan had done - rejecting their bond, humiliating her publicly, nearly getting her killed during the challenge ceremony - the bastard still wasn't finished.

Sebastian's large hand engulfed hers, his thumb stroking calming circles against her racing pulse. "Breathe, little wolf. This time, we end it." The promise in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "But first, you should know—"

The study door burst open before he could finish. Marcus stood on the threshold, his usually impeccable appearance disheveled from what looked like a high-speed drive. "Sir, we have confirmation. They've taken Victoria."

The blood drained from Sebastian's face. In that moment, Lillian saw something she'd never witnessed before - the mighty Alpha Blackwood, truly shaken.

As Sebastian barked orders to mobilize the pack's elite forces, Lillian's phone buzzed again. Beatrice's latest message included a photo attachment that made her stomach twist - a grainy surveillance still of Donovan entering a seedy motel on the outskirts of town. And tucked under his arm, unmistakable even in the poor quality image, was a limp figure with familiar chestnut curls.

The game had just changed. And this time, the stakes were life and death.

My breath hitched as I watched Lillian soar through the air. No parachute. No safety net. One wrong move, and she could be gone forever. Then—in a flash—she shifted. Her wolf form was smaller than the others, but there was something mesmerizing about it. A grace, a fierceness that made my own wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin.

He never fought me for control. Not like this. Not in years.

Yet here he was, claws scraping against my ribs, demanding to be let loose.

Lillian wasn’t the strongest, but she was fast. Clever. She used her size to her advantage, darting between opponents like a shadow. Every strike was precise, every movement calculated. She didn’t just survive—she dominated.

And it terrified me.

Because if she fell, if something happened to her—

My chest ached just thinking about it.

"Who is that girl?" Alistair, one of the Lycan chairmen, murmured from his seat.

There were four of them in total—the strongest of our kind. The judges. The ones who decided who lived, who died, who proved themselves worthy.

Nathaniel, another Lycan, didn’t take his eyes off Lillian. "Lillian Montague. Her professors rave about her. Even Maximilian said she impressed him."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. "We should keep an eye on her."

I didn’t hesitate. "She passes to the next round."

Alistair raised a brow. "You think she can handle it?"

"Without a doubt," Nathaniel said with a smirk. "If I had to bet on anyone surviving, it’d be her."

My blood turned to ice.

I turned slowly, my voice dangerously low. "Survive?"

Alistair barely glanced at me. "Death isn’t penalized after the first week."

My fingers curled into fists. "What?"

Nathaniel sighed, as if explaining something obvious. "Second and third rounds—if they don’t surrender, their opponent can kill them. No penalty."

"You’d know," Alistair added dryly, "if you bothered to attend the last competition."

A decade ago. When I was still new. When I hadn’t cared enough to learn the rules.

Now, I cared too much.

The buzzer blared, signaling the end of the fight. Shifters transformed back, naked and exhausted, stumbling toward the locker rooms.

All except one.

Lillian stood in the center of the arena, her wolf’s head tilted toward the sky. Like she was whispering to the Moon Goddess. Like she was waiting.

Then her gaze found mine.

Held.

A heartbeat passed. Two.

And then she ran—not toward the others, but away. Into the trees. Into the dark.

My wolf snarled, demanding I follow.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t try to stop him.