Chapter 64

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 intense combat training. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling that Sebastian was already awake.

She padded downstairs, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The mansion was unusually quiet, save for the faint clinking of silverware. When she entered the dining room, she found Sebastian seated at the head of the table, reading the morning papers with a furrowed brow. Oliver was beside him, enthusiastically devouring a stack of pancakes.

"Good morning," Lillian murmured, sliding into her usual seat.

Sebastian glanced up, his piercing blue eyes softening as they met hers. "Sleep well?"

She nodded, reaching for the coffee pot. "Better than expected."

Before she could pour herself a cup, Theodore appeared, carrying a tray of fresh pastries. "Miss Lillian," he greeted with a polite nod. "I took the liberty of preparing your favorite—almond croissants."

Lillian smiled. "Thank you, Theodore."

Oliver grinned, syrup smeared across his cheek. "You should try the pancakes, Lillian! They’re amazing!"

Sebastian chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. "Slow down, Oliver. You’ll choke if you keep inhaling them like that."

The domestic scene was almost too perfect—warm, comforting, and achingly familiar. But Lillian couldn’t shake the unease coiling in her stomach.

Her phone buzzed on the table. A message from Beatrice:

"Emergency meeting at the pack house. Now."

Lillian frowned. Beatrice wasn’t one for dramatics. If she was calling an emergency meeting, something was wrong.

Sebastian noticed her expression. "Problem?"

"I need to head to the pack house," she said, standing abruptly. "Beatrice just texted—something’s up."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he merely nodded. "Take Marcus with you."

She shook her head. "No, I’ll be fine. It’s probably just pack business."

Before he could argue, she grabbed her jacket and hurried out the door.

The pack house was buzzing with tension when Lillian arrived. Beatrice stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by grim determination.

"What’s going on?" Lillian asked, scanning the faces of the gathered pack members.

Beatrice turned to her, lips pressed into a thin line. "We just got word. Donovan’s back in town."

A cold ripple of dread shot through Lillian. Donovan—her ex-fated mate, the man who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

"And?" Lillian forced her voice to remain steady.

Beatrice exhaled sharply. "He’s not alone. Evelyn’s with him, and they’re making moves against Sebastian’s business holdings. Word is, they’ve got allies in high places."

Lillian’s fingers curled into fists. "What do they want?"

Beatrice’s gaze darkened. "Revenge. And they’re starting with you."

The room fell silent.

Lillian’s pulse roared in her ears. She had thought she was done with Donovan, that her past was buried. But some ghosts refused to stay dead.

And now, they were coming for her.

"Care to explain why we're speeding toward your estate like the hounds of hell are on our heels, Alpha?" Marcus quipped, casting me an amused glance through the rearview mirror.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to dignify his teasing with a response. My gaze remained fixed on the blur of trees rushing past the window.

"We're not speeding," I muttered.

"You practically bolted from the packhouse the second the meeting adjourned," he pointed out, arching a brow.

"Eyes on the road, Beta. My business is none of yours," I snapped, my Alpha aura flaring in warning. Marcus held my gaze for a beat longer before smirking and turning his attention back to the windshield.

"As you wish, sir," he murmured, though the amusement in his tone was unmistakable. I scowled but stayed silent as we pulled up to the grand iron gates of Blackwood Manor.

Marcus parked at the entrance, and I was out of the car before the engine fully settled. Straightening my suit jacket, I cleared my throat and gave him a curt nod of thanks. Through the window, I caught his raised brow, but I ignored it, striding toward the front doors without another word.

Theodore stood at the entrance, bowing stiffly in greeting. He was still under punishment for spreading those vile rumors about Lillian, so he knew better than to speak in my presence. Good. Let him remember his place.

I brushed past him without acknowledgment, my footsteps echoing through the marble halls as I made my way toward the study where Oliver should have been working on his assignments. But as I approached, I froze outside the door at the sound of a soft gasp—followed by a panicked whimper.

My nostrils flared. Lillian's sweet, floral scent filled the air, but Oliver's was faint, as if he hadn't been in the room for hours.

And then I caught it—another scent. One that made my blood boil.

A low growl rumbled in my chest as I threw the door open, revealing Donovan pinning Lillian against the wall, his lips trailing down the curve of her neck. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but they flew open the moment the door crashed against the wall. The color drained from her face when she saw me.

Donovan stiffened at the sound of my voice. He released her instantly, and Lillian immediately wrapped her arms around herself, her cheeks burning crimson.

Before Donovan could utter a word, I seized him by the collar and slammed him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. He winced, his Alpha blood doing little to shield him from the wrath of a Lycan.

"Explain," I snarled, my voice a deadly whisper. "Now."

"How dare you betray my daughter's trust like that," I snarled, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "Betraying her is the same as betraying me—and you won’t like what I do to those who cross me."

Donovan was visibly trembling now, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The sight of his fear sent a dark thrill through me.

"I swear... nothing happened, Alpha," he stammered, his entire body shaking like a leaf in a storm.

My fingers tightened around his throat, cutting off his air. His face flushed crimson as he clawed uselessly at my grip.

"It didn’t look like nothing," I hissed, my voice dripping with venom. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"N-no, sir," he choked out.

"Sebastian, it’s not what it looked like," Lillian’s voice came from behind me, hesitant but insistent.

"And you think I’ll believe you?" I snapped, my burning gaze never leaving Donovan’s face. "You swore you wouldn’t jeopardize this arranged marriage. And yet, here I find you—pressed against the wall with my daughter’s fiancé."

The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. Donovan’s eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

Lillian stepped forward, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Please, just let him explain—"

"Explain?" I cut her off with a sharp laugh. "There’s nothing to explain. Actions speak louder than words."

Donovan’s lips moved soundlessly, his face paling as the reality of his situation sank in.

And in that moment, I made a silent promise—one way or another, he would regret this betrayal.