Chapter 51

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, rousing Lillian from her restless sleep. She blinked against the light, her mind still foggy from the previous night’s turmoil. The scent of pine and musk lingered faintly in the air—Sebastian’s scent—reminding her of the heated argument they’d had before he stormed out.

She sat up, rubbing her temples. The bond between them pulsed with tension, a dull ache that refused to fade.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Lillian?" Giselle’s voice was gentle but firm. "Mr. Blackwood has requested your presence in his study."

Lillian swallowed hard. So he’s back.

She dressed quickly, choosing a simple blouse and jeans, then made her way down the grand staircase. The mansion was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of staff subdued.

Sebastian stood by the window when she entered, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He didn’t turn as she stepped inside.

"You wanted to see me?" Her voice was steady, though her pulse betrayed her.

Finally, he faced her. His golden eyes burned with restrained fury. "We need to talk about last night."

Lillian crossed her arms. "There’s nothing to talk about. You made your stance clear."

His jaw tightened. "You put yourself in danger. Again."

"Because I had no choice!" she snapped. "Donovan was—"

"Donovan is not your concern anymore," Sebastian growled, cutting her off. "He’s Evelyn’s problem now."

Lillian flinched. The mention of her ex-fated mate still stung, but she refused to show it. "He’s still a threat. To me. To Oliver. To you."

Sebastian’s expression darkened. "And you think running off alone to confront him was the solution?"

"I wasn’t alone," she countered. "Beatrice was with me."

"That’s hardly reassuring."

Lillian’s temper flared. "I don’t need your permission to protect the people I care about!"

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. For a moment, neither spoke.

Then, Sebastian exhaled sharply. "Fine. But from now on, you don’t act without me."

Lillian opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes silenced her. There was something else there—something raw and vulnerable beneath the anger.

Before she could respond, the door burst open.

"Alpha!" Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta, rushed in, his face grim. "We have a situation."

Sebastian’s gaze snapped to him. "What is it?"

Marcus hesitated, glancing at Lillian. "It’s Victoria. She’s gone."

Lillian’s blood ran cold.

Sebastian’s voice was deadly calm. "Explain."

Marcus swallowed. "She left a note. She’s… she’s gone to meet Donovan."

The room spun.

Lillian barely registered Sebastian’s furious command before he stormed out, Marcus at his heels.

She stood frozen, dread coiling in her stomach.

This wasn’t just a fight anymore.

This was war.

Sebastian took his seat at the head of the table, and I cautiously settled into the chair beside him.

A maid hurried into the dining room, balancing a bottle of aged red wine and a carafe of freshly pressed apple juice. Without hesitation, she poured Victoria a generous glass of wine and Oliver a smaller serving of juice. Moving gracefully around the table, she filled Sebastian’s glass next before pausing before me with a polite smile.

“Wine, madam?” she inquired.

“Apple juice, please,” I answered swiftly.

There was no way I’d risk drinking here—not when I needed to keep my wits sharp. Drunk Lillian around Sebastian was a disaster waiting to happen.

The maid blinked in surprise but quickly complied, pouring me a glass of the crisp golden juice. As she retreated, Victoria shot me a puzzled look.

“You don’t drink?” she asked, swirling her wine.

“Only on special occasions,” I replied smoothly.

Before she could press further, another maid entered, pushing a silver cart laden with steaming dishes. The rich aromas made my stomach growl—I didn’t even care what was under those domed lids anymore. The first cover was lifted, revealing four perfectly seared T-bone steaks, their juices sizzling against the hot metal. My mouth watered as she placed one on each of our plates.

The next dish was a mountain of creamy garlic mashed potatoes, followed by a medley of roasted vegetables glistening with butter and herbs. “Will there be anything else, Alpha?” the maid asked as she wheeled the cart away.

“That’s all,” Sebastian murmured, his gaze fixed on his plate. Then, to my surprise, he added, “Thank you.”

The maid beamed before slipping out.

“This looks amazing,” I breathed, admiring the vibrant colors and intoxicating scents.

“Our kitchen staff is exceptional,” Victoria agreed, picking up her utensils.

I followed suit, cutting into the steak—medium rare, just how I liked it. The tender meat practically melted on my tongue, each bite bursting with flavor. My wolf hummed in satisfaction, and for the first time since arriving, I felt myself relax.

“How are the lessons going?” Sebastian asked suddenly, glancing at Oliver, who was meticulously avoiding the fatty edges of his steak.

Oliver looked up, startled by the question. After a brief pause, he grinned. “Great! Lillian’s the best. She teaches me stuff no other tutor ever has!”

Sebastian’s expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—something I couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, the tension returned.

"That's probably because they didn't have a clue how to do any of it," Victoria chimed in, swirling her wine glass thoughtfully. "Honestly, Father, where did you even find those tutors? They were utterly hopeless."

Sebastian hummed in agreement, his deep voice sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. My cheeks warmed at the unspoken praise, and I quickly stuffed a piece of roasted asparagus into my mouth, savoring the rich, buttery flavor. A soft sigh nearly escaped me, but I swallowed it down, not wanting to draw attention.

"Complete idiots," Oliver muttered under his breath.

"Language," Sebastian reprimanded, though his tone remained calm.

Oliver paled slightly but wisely kept quiet.

The rest of the meal passed in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional clink of silverware against fine china. Victoria and Oliver drifted into a light conversation, but I barely registered their words. My mind was elsewhere—specifically, on the way Sebastian’s gaze lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

By the time I finished, I pushed my plate away, pleasantly full but eager to put some distance between us. The maids glided in silently, clearing the table with practiced efficiency.

"Dessert, Alpha?" one of them asked, refilling Sebastian’s wine glass with a practiced hand.

He glanced at me, as if waiting for my answer.

"I should probably head out," I said, offering him a small, polite smile. "Thank you for dinner, though. It was wonderful."

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable, as if debating whether to say something more. Then, with a slight nod, he relented. "Let Frederick drive you home. It's late, and I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at this hour."

I hesitated, then nodded. "That would be nice."

As I stood, Sebastian rose with me, his towering presence impossible to ignore. I hadn’t expected him to walk me to the door, but he did, his piercing gaze tracking my every move.

Third Person POV

Neither Sebastian nor Lillian noticed the way Victoria and Oliver watched them leave the dining room. Victoria had been intrigued by Lillian from the start—Oliver had never taken to any of his tutors before, yet he seemed genuinely fond of her. It made her wonder what made this woman so different.

Admittedly, Victoria liked her too. There was something undeniably compelling about Lillian—something secretive, something she couldn’t quite place.

But as dinner progressed, she caught her father stealing glances at Lillian when he thought no one was looking. And in that moment, realization struck her like lightning.

Something was happening between them.

A slow, knowing smile curved Victoria’s lips as she watched them disappear down the hall. Oliver, too, was staring after them, a hopeful glint in his eyes. When he turned to meet his sister’s gaze, they shared an identical, conspiratorial smirk.