Chapter 42

The night air was crisp as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse suite. The city lights glittered below like scattered diamonds, but her gaze was fixed on the full moon hanging low in the sky. Its silver glow bathed her skin, sending a familiar shiver down her spine—her wolf stirred, restless beneath the surface.

She hadn’t expected to end up here, in the private wing of the Lycan Chairman’s estate. Not after everything that had happened with Donovan and Evelyn. Yet here she was, wrapped in a silk robe that smelled faintly of cedar and alpha musk—Sebastian’s scent.

The sliding door behind her whispered open. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. His presence was like a living flame, warming the space between them before he even spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sebastian’s voice was rough with exhaustion, yet still laced with that commanding edge that made her pulse quicken.

Lillian exhaled, her breath fogging in the cool air. “Too much on my mind.”

He moved beside her, his broad frame casting a shadow over the railing. Dressed in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, his bare torso gleamed under the moonlight, scars from old battles mapping his skin like a warrior’s history.

“Oliver asked about you at dinner,” he murmured.

Her chest tightened. The boy had wormed his way into her heart faster than she’d thought possible. “What did he say?”

Sebastian’s lips quirked. “That you’re the only one who lets him put extra syrup on his pancakes.”

A laugh escaped her, soft and unexpected. “Guilty.”

Silence settled between them, comfortable yet charged. Then, without warning, Sebastian turned to face her fully. His golden eyes burned with an intensity that stole her breath.

“Lillian.” Just her name, but it sounded like a vow.

She swallowed. “Yes?”

“I don’t do this,” he admitted gruffly. “Bring women here. Let them near my son. But with you…” His jaw clenched. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

Her heart hammered. This was dangerous. He was dangerous. Not just because he was a Lycan Alpha, but because every word felt like a thread weaving them tighter together.

Before she could respond, his hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray curl behind her ear. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent sparks skittering across her skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, voice dropping to a growl.

She should. For a hundred logical reasons, she should.

Instead, Lillian rose onto her toes—and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was electric, a collision of heat and hunger that shattered every rational thought. Sebastian’s arms banded around her waist, pulling her flush against him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of space.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a warning bell rang. This changed everything.

But as his lips moved against hers, possessive and demanding, Lillian realized one terrifying truth—

She didn’t want to stop.

"Victoria," I greeted, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I didn't expect to run into you here."

She smiled brightly, lifting a designer shopping bag. "Just picking up some things for the wedding." Her gaze flickered to Beatrice. "And who's this?"

My throat tightened. The last thing I needed was Victoria taking an interest in Beatrice—as if losing Donovan to her wasn't enough. Logically, I knew it wasn’t fair to blame her. She was just as much a victim as I was, if not more. But logic didn’t stop the bitterness from rising every time I saw her face.

The memory of Donovan’s hands on her—hands that once traced my skin with reverence—made my stomach churn. We were supposed to be eternal. Fated mates, bound by the stars themselves. The Goddess had chosen us.

Yet here we were.

Had She made a mistake? Or had Donovan?

The ache in my chest flared, a wound that refused to heal no matter how many times I swore I was over him.

But could anyone truly move on from their mate?

"This is my best friend, Beatrice," I said, nudging her forward. Beatrice shot me a questioning look—she already knew exactly who Victoria was.

Victoria extended her hand, ever the picture of grace. Beatrice hesitated, her glossy lips pursed in distaste. I elbowed her subtly, snapping her out of it. Victoria couldn’t suspect anything.

With visible reluctance, Beatrice took her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her smile strained.

"Hello, Beatrice!" Victoria chirped, oblivious to the tension. "I'm Victoria Blackwood—Sebastian Blackwood’s daughter and Donovan Cash’s fiancée. It’s such a pleasure!"

I could see Beatrice’s jaw clench, but she dipped her head in a polite nod. "The honor is mine, Miss Blackwood," she replied, her words laced with barely concealed venom.

Victoria tilted her head. "What brings you two out today?"

I glanced at Beatrice, who gave a tiny shrug before I answered. "Just shopping."

"Girl’s day out," Beatrice added.

Something flickered in Victoria’s eyes—something I couldn’t decipher.

"Oh," she murmured, a wistful note in her voice. "I’ve never had a girl’s day before. Never really had friends to do that with."

My brows shot up. That was hard to believe. She was Victoria Blackwood.

"You’ve never had friends?" Beatrice echoed, voicing my exact thoughts.

Victoria shrugged, her expression tinged with melancholy. "Not real ones," she admitted. "I think people are just... intimidated. It’s fine, really."

The vulnerability in her voice caught me off guard. For the first time, I saw past the polished exterior—to someone just as lonely as I was.

And that realization unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

Victoria bit her lower lip, her gaze fixed on the pavement as if it held the answers to her unspoken request. I glanced at Beatrice, sensing the tension in the air—Victoria clearly wanted an invitation to join our shopping trip, and I could tell Beatrice was thinking the same thing when our eyes met and she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Without hesitation, I looped my arm through Beatrice’s and turned back to Victoria with a practiced smile.

"Well, it was lovely running into you, Victoria," I said smoothly, already tugging Beatrice along with me. "But we really should get going now."

Victoria’s face fell. "Oh," she murmured, disappointment lacing her voice. "Alright, I suppose I’ll see you around."

I offered a polite nod and a wave over my shoulder, ignoring the weight of her stare burning into my back as we hurried down the bustling street.

Once we were safely inside the boutique, Beatrice let out a quiet laugh. "She’s certainly… something," she remarked, shaking her head.

"To put it lightly," I agreed, rolling my eyes playfully.

The rest of the evening was spent in much better company—shopping for Beatrice and picking out a birthday gift for Isabella. Beatrice settled on an exquisite ruby bracelet with a delicate heart charm, personalized with Isabella’s name engraved in elegant script. Afterward, we treated ourselves to dinner at a cozy little bistro, laughing over shared desserts and swapping stories.

As Beatrice dropped me off at home later that night, she turned to me with a soft smile. "Thanks for coming out with me today," she said, squeezing my hand.

I returned her smile warmly. "You never have to thank me for that. I always love spending time with you."

We hugged goodbye, and I stepped out of her car, the silence of the house swallowing me whole as soon as the door shut behind me.

It had been eerily quiet since my father was taken. My mother had barely left her room in days. I’d checked on her this morning, but she’d barely acknowledged me, lost in her own grief. If she didn’t come out tomorrow, I’d have no choice but to call her doctor. She couldn’t keep living like this—wasting away, drowning in sorrow.

Watching her fade before my eyes was breaking my heart.