Chapter 32

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the lavish bedroom as Lillian stirred beneath the silk sheets. Her body ached from the previous night’s events—Donovan’s betrayal still fresh in her mind, the sting of rejection lingering like a phantom wound.

She rolled onto her side, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course he’s gone.

The scent of expensive cologne still clung to the sheets—Sebastian Blackwood’s signature fragrance, a mix of sandalwood and something darker, wilder. It reminded her of the way his piercing gaze had locked onto hers last night, the unspoken promise in his voice when he’d said, "You’re mine now."

A shiver ran down her spine.

The door creaked open, and Beatrice peeked in, her dark curls bouncing as she grinned. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. You’ve got a pack to impress."

Lillian groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "Five more minutes."

Beatrice yanked the sheets away. "Nope. Sebastian’s waiting downstairs, and trust me, you do not want to keep the Lycan Chairman waiting."

Lillian’s stomach twisted. Right. The pack meeting.

She dragged herself out of bed, her reflection in the mirror revealing dark circles under her eyes. The mark on her neck—Sebastian’s claiming bite—stood out starkly against her pale skin. A permanent reminder of the bond she hadn’t asked for.

Dressing quickly in the designer clothes laid out for her—a fitted black dress that hugged her curves, paired with knee-high boots—she took a deep breath.

Time to face the wolves.

The grand hall of Blackwood Manor was packed with Lycans, their murmurs falling silent as Lillian descended the staircase. Every eye turned to her, some curious, others hostile.

Sebastian stood at the center, his imposing frame commanding attention. His dark suit accentuated his broad shoulders, and when his gaze met hers, something primal flickered in his eyes.

"Lillian," he said, his voice smooth yet edged with authority. "Join me."

She forced her legs to move, ignoring the whispers that followed her.

"She’s the one he claimed?"

"A mere college student?"

"Donovan’s ex? Pathetic."

Sebastian’s hand settled possessively on the small of her back as she reached his side. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she stiffened.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "They’ll learn their place."

Then, louder, to the crowd: "Lillian is under my protection. Any disrespect shown to her will be dealt with… severely."

A tense silence followed.

Just as Lillian began to relax, the doors burst open.

Evelyn stormed in, her perfect blonde hair disheveled, her eyes blazing with fury. "You bitch!" she snarled, pointing at Lillian. "You stole him from me!"

Sebastian’s grip tightened. "Evelyn," he warned.

But Evelyn wasn’t done. She lunged forward, claws unsheathed—

And Lillian reacted on instinct.

Her own claws slashed through the air, meeting Evelyn’s attack mid-motion. The sound of tearing fabric and a sharp gasp filled the room.

Evelyn stumbled back, clutching her bleeding arm.

Lillian’s heart pounded. She hadn’t meant to—

Sebastian’s low chuckle cut through the tension. "Well done, darling."

Then, to the stunned crowd: "Anyone else care to challenge my mate?"

Silence.

Lillian swallowed hard.

Mate.

The word hung in the air, sealing her fate.

And as she stood there, surrounded by predators, one thought echoed in her mind:

What have I gotten myself into?

Nathaniel's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his gaze dropping to the polished floor. To spare him further discomfort, I closed the distance between us and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to me.

"That's incredibly sweet of you, Nathaniel. But really, I'll be fine. Thank you anyway," I assured him with a soft smile.

He returned the smile, nodding before straightening his posture.

"I should find my seat," Nathaniel murmured. "I think I'm sitting beside you."

"I'll see you up there," I replied.

With another nod, he brushed past me, heading toward the stage.

Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head as she watched him walk away.

"That boy is absolutely smitten," she teased, mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Beatrice, no, he's not," I countered, rolling my eyes. "Nathaniel is just a friend."

"You might believe that, but he's been head over heels for you since sophomore year," she shot back. "One day, you'll realize I'm right."

I frowned, watching Nathaniel's retreating figure—his tousled chestnut hair, his well-fitted blazer, the faint trace of his expensive cologne lingering in the air. Objectively, he was attractive. But my heart had never once fluttered for him.

"Ladies, the ceremony is about to begin. Please take your seats," one of the professors announced as she passed by.

Beatrice pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Good luck, Lillian. I'll be cheering for you the whole time."

I squeezed her back before hurrying to the stage, slipping into my seat among the other candidates. Cassandra shot me a venomous glare, but I ignored her, my focus drifting instinctively to the front row—where Sebastian sat.

My breath hitched when I realized he was already watching me.

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze before I could combust under the intensity of his stare.

The dean stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to quiet the murmuring crowd.

After introducing himself and the purpose of the ceremony, he turned to us, calling each candidate forward by name and major. We stood as our names were announced, basking in the applause from the audience.

When my name echoed through the hall, Beatrice's enthusiastic whooping rose above the polite clapping, making me grin despite myself. Even as I sat back down, I could still feel Sebastian's piercing gaze on me.

The ceremony unfolded beautifully—live performances from the school's band and choir, speeches from past award recipients, and heartfelt congratulations from faculty.

Then, the dean gestured toward Sebastian.

"As a special honor, we're privileged to have Chairman Blackwood with us tonight—the first Lycan to ever attend this ceremony."

Sebastian rose, offering a regal nod to the crowd. The she-wolves in attendance practically swooned, their whispers of admiration filling the air.

And yet, his eyes never strayed far from me.

The moment had finally arrived. The dean cleared his throat, holding the golden envelope that contained the name of this year's top student scholarship winner.

"And the winner of this year's prestigious award goes to..." He paused for dramatic effect, his fingers carefully unfolding the paper. A knowing smile curled on his lips as his gaze swept across the auditorium before landing on me.

"Lillian Dumont!"

The room erupted into applause. My heart hammered against my ribs, disbelief flooding my senses. I—I had actually won? The scholarship was mine? No more sleepless nights worrying about tuition, no more crushing student loans looming over my head.

My eyes darted to Beatrice, who was practically vibrating with excitement, clapping so hard her palms had to be stinging. I grinned, standing shakily to my feet. Then, against my will, my gaze flickered to Sebastian Blackwood.

He was watching me with an unreadable expression, those piercing eyes locked onto mine. My stomach twisted. What was he thinking? Did he—

No, don’t be ridiculous.

Of course he didn’t care. Why would he? I was nothing to him.

Shaking off the thought, I straightened my shoulders and walked toward the stage, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The dean handed me the envelope with a firm handshake.

"Congratulations, Lillian," he said warmly. "You’ve earned this not just through academic excellence, but through perseverance despite your family’s financial struggles. This scholarship will change your life."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Normally, I would have cringed at such a public revelation of my hardships—but the whispers were already there. At least now, they’d see why I deserved this.

"Thank you," I said, gripping the envelope tightly. "I’d like to say a few words."

The dean nodded, stepping aside as I turned to face the microphone. The cheers began to quiet, anticipation thickening the air.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak—

"STOP!"

A sharp, venomous voice sliced through the silence.

I spun around.

Cassandra Declaire stood from her seat, her eyes burning with malice. The murmurs surged louder, confusion spreading like wildfire.

"Miss Declaire," the dean said sharply, "what is the meaning of this?"

Cassandra smirked, crossing her arms. "Lillian Dumont is a fraud," she declared, her voice dripping with disdain. "She doesn’t deserve that award—or that scholarship!"