*NEW* Chapter XXXII

Lydia's POV

Back in the hotel room, the tension was suffocating. Derek paced relentlessly, his phone in hand as he contacted the pack, putting everyone on alert. He would go to the last consequences to protect me against any harm.

My thoughts were spiraling. I couldn't forget what Esther had said, and fear clawed at my insides. What if she was right?

Vanessa and Caleb had cut their honeymoon short—they were already on their way to the Alps to support us. Meanwhile, Derek was on the phone with Fabian.

"Lea said the same thing," Fabian told him. "That Lydia is a witch. Maybe the test won't be as negative as we expect."

Derek exhaled heavily. "Then we need answers. Go to the witches that live with Lea. Find out everything you can."

"Understood," Fabian replied. "Any answer is valuable right now."

As Derek ended the call and turned around, his gaze fell on me. I was shivering, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, lost in my own doubts.

Without hesitation, he crossed the room and went down on one knee before me so that we were at the same level. His warm hand caressed my face, tilting it up so our eyes met.

"You don't need to worry about anything," he murmured.

Tears pricked at my eyes. "You hate witches," I whispered. "If I am one... you'll hate me."

He chuckled, the sound deep and soothing. "No matter the outcome, Lydia, you are my mate. And I would go to the ends of the earth for you."

His forehead pressed against mine, his breath mingling with mine, steady and warm. For a moment, the world outside faded—there were no alphas, no threats, no looming trials. Just us. His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, his touch sending a shiver down my spine, not from fear but from something else entirely.

I barely noticed how my lips parted, how my breath hitched. My heart pounded in my ears as his thumb brushed against my cheek, his hand now resting at the nape of my neck. His lips were so close, a breath away. The moment stretched, charged with an energy I didn't understand but desperately wanted to.

And then, I leaned in. Or maybe he did. It didn't matter.

Our lips met in a slow, deliberate kiss—soft at first, as if testing, as if savoring. But then something shifted, something raw and undeniable. His grip tightened slightly, pulling me in, and I melted into him. Heat curled through me, dissolving every thought, every worry. His other hand found my waist, anchoring me against him.

He tasted of warmth, of unspoken promises, of a fire barely restrained. I clung to him, fingers threading into his hair, needing more. He let out a low growl against my lips, sending a thrill down my spine.

By the time we finally pulled away, breathless, our foreheads were still pressed together. His hands remained on me, as if letting go wasn't an option.

"Lydia," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "You're mine. No matter what."

And for the first time that night, I believed him.

Derek's POV

The moment was shattered by a sharp knock on the door.

Derek stiffened, his hand instinctively pressing against Lydia's back, keeping her close. His wolf bristled, sensing unwanted company.

He pulled away reluctantly, striding towards the door, his posture rigid with barely restrained aggression. When he opened it, a messenger stood there, wide-eyed and breathless.

"The Witch Council has set the date for Lydia's trial," the messenger announced. "It will happen sooner than expected."

Derek's jaw clenched. "How soon?"

"Two days. They're already preparing."

Lydia inhaled sharply behind him, but before he could turn to comfort her, the messenger continued.

"One more thing," he added hesitantly. "Arabella... she requests an audience with you. Alone."