Chapter 59

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Lillian's bedroom, casting a golden glow over the room. She stretched lazily, her muscles still sore from yesterday's intense training session with Professor Montclair. A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Lillian? Are you awake?" Beatrice's voice was muffled 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," she teased, plopping onto the edge of Lillian's bed.

"Close enough," Lillian muttered, sitting up. "Combat training was brutal yesterday. Odette nearly dislocated my shoulder."

Beatrice winced. "Ouch. Well, at least you survived. You’ve got that pack meeting with Sebastian later, right?"

Lillian's stomach twisted at the reminder. "Yeah. I still don’t know why he wants me there. It’s not like I’m officially part of his pack yet."

Beatrice smirked. "Maybe he just likes having you around."

Lillian threw a pillow at her, but Beatrice dodged it effortlessly.

"Seriously, though," Beatrice continued, her tone turning serious, "you should be careful. Donovan’s been sniffing around again. Evelyn told me he’s been asking about you."

Lillian’s fingers clenched around the sheets. "What does he want now?"

"Who knows? But it can’t be good." Beatrice sighed. "Just… be on guard, okay?"

Lillian nodded, though unease settled in her chest. She had hoped Donovan would leave her alone after everything, but apparently, he wasn’t done making her life difficult.

The Blackwood pack house was bustling when Lillian arrived. Gamma warriors moved with purpose, their sharp eyes scanning for threats. Theodore, Sebastian’s butler, greeted her at the door with a polite nod.

"Miss Lillian, Alpha Blackwood is waiting for you in his study."

Lillian swallowed hard. "Thanks, Theodore."

She followed him through the grand halls, her heart pounding. The last time she’d been in Sebastian’s study, things had gotten… complicated.

Sebastian was seated behind his desk when she entered, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "Lillian. You’re late."

She bristled. "I didn’t realize there was a set time."

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "There wasn’t. I just enjoy watching you get flustered."

Lillian rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "What’s this meeting about?"

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. "We have a problem. Alpha Maximilian Voss is making moves against us."

Lillian frowned. "The Darkmoon pack? What does he want?"

"Power. Territory. The usual." Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "But he’s targeting you specifically."

Lillian’s blood ran cold. "Me? Why?"

"Because you’re connected to me," Sebastian said simply. "And because he knows you’re strong. He wants to break you to weaken my position."

Lillian clenched her fists. "I won’t let him."

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. "Good. Because I won’t either."

For a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Then, just as quickly, Sebastian broke the spell, standing abruptly. "We leave for the border tonight. Be ready."

Lillian nodded, determination settling over her. Whatever Alpha Voss had planned, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

But as she turned to leave, Sebastian’s voice stopped her.

"Oh, and Lillian?"

She glanced back.

"Don’t even think about going alone."

She smirked. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts—and the growing certainty that this battle would change everything.

"Think whatever you like," I muttered under my breath. "I don’t owe you any explanations."

Beatrice crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "Maybe you should be more concerned about your own problems."

"Just drop it, Bea," I said, shaking my head. "I’m heading to class. See you later." Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and walked away.

Even the lecture hall felt off—everyone’s eyes followed me, whispers trailing in my wake. Professor Pembroke handed out assignments, her gaze lingering on me a beat too long. When I glanced at my paper, my frown deepened.

Was it just me, or was the font different? I peeked at the girl beside me—her paper looked normal.

"Mind if I take a quick look?" I asked.

She hesitated but handed it over. The wording was different too—mine was condensed, the letters smaller, as if someone had deliberately altered it.

"Thanks," I murmured, returning it.

The class dragged on, the weight of scrutiny pressing down on me. As I packed up, Professor Pembroke stopped me.

"You did quite well today, Lillian," she said, her tone slow and deliberate, as if speaking to a child.

My brows knitted together. "Uh… thanks, Professor Pembroke."

I bolted from the room, eager to escape the condescension. My next class—Advanced Lycan Literature—was usually my sanctuary. We’d just finished our last novel and were supposed to receive a new one today.

Students filed in, each handed a book as they entered. But when I stepped forward, Professor Pembroke merely smiled.

"Lillian," she said gently, "I’ve decided to exempt you from this one. It’s quite dense, and I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll provide cliff notes instead."

I stared at her, disbelief knotting in my chest. "Excuse me?"

She sighed, setting the stack of books down. "It’s for the best. Some material just… isn’t suited for everyone."

Suited for everyone? Was she implying I couldn’t handle it? I clenched my jaw. Dyslexia didn’t make me incapable—just determined. And she had no right to assume otherwise.

"Take your seat, please," she said, her voice sweet but firm.

I bit back my retort and sat, simmering as the others received their books. I was the only one left empty-handed.

By the time my last class—Shifting and Combat—rolled around, my patience had worn thin. At least here, I could channel my frustration into something productive.

As I entered the training hall, I overheard Gabrielle speaking to Professor Montgomery, her voice edged with irritation.

"With all due respect, Professor, Lillian doesn’t need special treatment. She’s more than capable of handling the new drills without modifications."

Professor Montgomery—now our primary instructor since Cassandra’s expulsion—crossed his arms. "I’ll be the judge of that."

Gabrielle shot him a look. "Then judge her fairly."

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. At least someone still saw me as competent.

Now, if only the rest of the world would catch up.