Chapter 45

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, painting the marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stretched lazily in the silk sheets, her body still humming from the intensity of last night’s mating bond.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Lillian?" Harper’s voice, smooth as velvet, carried through the door. "Breakfast is ready. Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in the dining room."

Lillian bit her lip, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Sebastian. The man was an enigma—cold and commanding in public, yet devastatingly tender when they were alone.

"I’ll be right there," she called back, slipping out of bed.

The penthouse was a masterpiece of modern luxury, every detail meticulously curated. As she padded down the hallway, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery croissants teased her senses.

Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his dark eyes lifting as she entered. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"Sleep well?" His voice was low, laced with amusement.

Lillian flushed, memories of tangled limbs and whispered promises flooding her mind. "Like a dream," she murmured, sliding into the chair beside him.

Before he could respond, Oliver burst into the room, his small face alight with excitement. "Lillian! You’re finally awake! Can we go to the park today? Dad promised!"

Sebastian sighed, though his lips twitched. "Oliver, manners."

The boy pouted but corrected himself. "Please?"

Lillian laughed, ruffling his hair. "Of course. But only if you finish your breakfast first."

As they ate, the domesticity of the moment struck her. It was surreal—just weeks ago, she had been a struggling college student, betrayed by Donovan and drowning in debt. Now, she was mated to the most powerful Lycan in the city, living in a penthouse that belonged in a magazine.

But the peace was short-lived.

Victoria stormed in, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. "Father, we need to talk." Her gaze flicked to Lillian, disdain curling her lips. "Alone."

Sebastian’s expression hardened. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Lillian."

Victoria’s eyes flashed. "Fine. Donovan’s been spotted near the pack borders. He’s demanding to see her."

Lillian’s fork clattered against her plate.

Sebastian’s growl was barely human. "He’s lost that privilege."

Victoria crossed her arms. "He claims he has proof that their bond wasn’t properly severed. That it’s still active."

The air in the room turned glacial.

Lillian’s pulse roared in her ears. That couldn’t be possible. She had felt the bond snap when Donovan rejected her. Hadn’t she?

Sebastian stood abruptly, his alpha aura pressing down on them all. "Tell him if he values his life, he’ll stay away."

But as Victoria turned to leave, she shot Lillian a look that sent ice through her veins.

This isn’t over.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains of Lillian's bedroom, stirring her awake. She stretched lazily, her muscles still sore from yesterday's training session with Professor Montclair. A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Lillian? Are you up?" Beatrice's voice carried through the wood.

Lillian groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, come in."

Beatrice pushed the door open, already dressed in her usual stylish ensemble—a fitted blouse and high-waisted jeans. "You look like you wrestled a bear last night," she teased, tossing a protein bar onto the bed.

"Close enough," Lillian muttered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite. "Combat training was brutal."

Beatrice perched on the edge of the bed, her expression turning serious. "So, have you decided yet?"

Lillian hesitated. The question hung in the air between them—whether she would accept Sebastian Blackwood's offer to stay at his estate permanently. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. His presence was magnetic, but the complications were undeniable.

"I don’t know," she admitted. "It’s not just about me. There’s Oliver, the pack dynamics, and… Donovan."

Beatrice scoffed. "Donovan made his choice when he left you for Evelyn. You don’t owe him anything."

Lillian sighed. "It’s not that simple."

Before Beatrice could argue, Lillian’s phone buzzed. A message from Sebastian lit up the screen: "Meeting at noon. We need to discuss the upcoming summit."

Her pulse quickened. The summit—where rival packs would gather, including Alpha Maximilian Voss, who had been eyeing Sebastian’s territory for months.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

Lillian exhaled sharply. "Always."

By the time Lillian arrived at Sebastian’s study, the tension in the air was palpable. Marcus Grayson stood by the window, arms crossed, while Sebastian sat behind his desk, his piercing gaze locked onto a map spread before him.

"You’re late," Sebastian remarked without looking up.

Lillian bristled. "I came as soon as I could."

Finally, he lifted his eyes, and the intensity in them made her breath hitch. "Sit."

She obeyed, sinking into the chair opposite him. Marcus cleared his throat. "We’ve received word that Alpha Voss is bringing reinforcements. He’s not here to negotiate—he’s here to challenge."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "Then we’ll be ready."

Lillian frowned. "What does this have to do with me?"

Sebastian leaned forward, his voice low. "Because you’re part of this pack now, whether you’ve accepted it or not. And Voss knows it."

A chill ran down her spine. "You think he’ll target me?"

Marcus exchanged a glance with Sebastian before answering. "He’ll use any weakness he can find."

Lillian clenched her fists. She wasn’t a weakness. She was a fighter.

Sebastian’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Prove it."

The challenge hung between them, unspoken but clear.

The summit was coming.

And Lillian would be ready.

I fastened my seatbelt as Victoria did the same. With a smooth motion, she shifted the car into drive and pulled away, heading toward Sebastian’s estate.

The silence between us stretched for a moment before she spoke. "I apologize if my brother is... difficult," she said, her fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "He’s driven away every tutor we’ve ever hired. I don’t know what’s gotten into him."

"He’s actually quite charming," I admitted honestly. "I think he just wants attention—any way he can get it. With Sebastian being a Lycan chairman and Alpha, and you being... engaged..." I hesitated on the last word, the weight of it making my stomach twist. Talking to Victoria about this felt strange, but she didn’t seem to notice my discomfort.

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the road. "I suppose I’ve been distracted with wedding preparations. I love Donovan so much that being apart from him even for a moment unsettles both me and my wolf."

My breath caught at her words. I definitely didn’t want to delve into this conversation, but one detail snagged my attention.

"Your wolf?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Victoria let out a soft laugh. "Yes. Don’t misunderstand—we both know Donovan isn’t our fated mate. But he’s been so tender, so devoted since the day we met that it hardly matters. My wolf claimed him as ours, and I can’t argue with her."

A wave of nausea rolled through me. I clenched my hands in my lap, unsure how to respond. Victoria must have sensed my tension because she glanced at me as we stopped at a red light.

"Have you ever been in love?"

The question startled me. When I looked up, her lips were pursed in a small frown, curiosity flickering in her eyes. I didn’t want to lie, but the truth was too dangerous. If I told her, it would ruin everything—this job, this fragile peace.

"I thought I was once," I admitted carefully. "But he didn’t feel the same way."

A shadow of sympathy crossed her face before the blare of a horn behind us snapped her attention back to the road. The light had turned green. She pressed the accelerator, and we continued toward the villa, its grand silhouette now visible in the distance.

As we neared the pack borders, the Silver Crescent guards didn’t stop us—they recognized Victoria’s car immediately. They dipped their heads in respect as she drove past, offering them a polite smile before we entered Sebastian’s sprawling estate.

"He’s a fool for not loving you," Victoria said after a beat of silence. "You’re wonderful. Any man would be lucky to have you."

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past until we finally arrived. Victoria parked smoothly, and we both stepped out.

"Thank you for the ride," I said, forcing a smile. "I won’t keep you. I’m sure you have more wedding planning to do."

She nodded, though her expression turned wistful. "So much to do. But Donovan has a meeting today, so I’m left to my own devices." She gave me a small, sad smile. "I know you’re busy, though. Maybe we can talk more later?"

I nodded, though I had no idea what else we could possibly discuss. With a final glance, I turned and walked toward the villa, my chest tight with unspoken words.

"Good evening," Theodore greeted as I walked past him at the grand entrance. I shot him a glance—one I knew wasn’t particularly warm. When I first arrived, I’d thought Theodore and I could be friends. But after that reckless stunt he pulled, trying to get himself fired, I wasn’t sure I could trust him anymore. We hadn’t spoken since the incident, and I’d made a point to keep my distance.

"Is Oliver here?" I asked, my tone clipped.

"He’s out back, practicing his sparring," Theodore replied. "He’s nervous about his combat test next week."

Oliver had mentioned the test briefly—apparently, he’d been paired against someone much larger, and the thought of embarrassing himself had him on edge.

I found him in the courtyard, his movements sharp but hesitant. Without a word, I joined him, adjusting his stance and demonstrating a few new techniques. Within the hour, his confidence had visibly improved. We focused on swordplay, and he handled the weapon with surprising finesse.

"Try to disarm me," I challenged, gripping my sword firmly. "Take it from my hand."

He hesitated only a second before lunging forward, using the moves I’d just taught him. His footwork was precise, his grip steady—until, in a flash, the sword clattered to the ground. He had me exactly where he wanted.

But then, in his eagerness, he misjudged his swing. The blade caught the fabric of my blouse, and the sharp rip of tearing silk froze us both in place.

Oliver’s eyes widened in horror. "I—I didn’t mean to—"

I exhaled sharply, glancing down at the ruined sleeve. "Well," I muttered, "at least you’re learning."

His face paled. "Are you mad?"

I smirked. "Only if you don’t fix your grip before next week."

A beat of silence—then, to my surprise, he grinned.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d be ready after all.