Alpha's Hidden Precious Luna-Chapter 178

Lily POV

The coffee shop was in a busy commercial district where a luxury car would be less conspicuous among the other vehicles. After Marcel reluctantly dropped me off—with strict instructions to call him the moment class ended—I set off on foot toward the university.

It was farther than I’d anticipated. What had seemed like a reasonable walk in my head became a challenging trek in dress shoes that weren’t designed for long-distance walking. By the time I reached the correct building, my feet were already developing blisters, and I was running nearly twenty minutes late.

The classroom was on the second floor, and I could hear a masculine voice speaking authoritatively as I approached the door. My heart sank as I realized the lesson was already well underway. Through the small window in the door, I could see students seated in a semicircle, all focused intently on a figure at the front of the room.

I tried to slip through the door as quietly as possible, hoping to find a seat in the back without drawing attention. The heavy door, however, had other plans, creaking loudly on its hinges as I eased it open.

"I’m sorry, but we’ve already begun," came a crisp, educated voice from the front of the room. "If you’re looking for Professor Harrison’s sociology class, that’s down the hall."

I froze halfway through the doorway, feeling every pair of eyes in the room turn toward me. "Actually, I’m supposed to be in this class. History with Professor Morrison?"

The man at the front of the room turned fully to face me, and I got my first clear look at him. He was not the Professor Morrison I knew. Did they change Professor Morrison? What else had happened during my sabbatical?

This man was younger than I’d expected—probably early thirties—with dark hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it, intelligent brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and the kind of lean build that suggested he spent more time with books than in the gym. He wore a burgundy sweater over dark jeans, and something about his casual elegance made him seem approachable despite his obvious irritation.

“Clearly, this is not Professor Morrison. Wrong class...”

“Uhmm...” I stuttered “I’m supposed to be in this class. Professor Morrison was here before I had to... felt...” I trailed off not knowing how to describe the events of the past weeks to him. Would he even understand?

The man’s eyebrows rose above his glasses as he took in my appearance. "Professor Morrison had an accident and is recuperating. I’ll be standing in for him until he comes back. You must be Miss Stone?”

I nodded skeptical about where this would lead.

“The Faculty Dean mentioned you’d be joining us, though she didn’t mention you’d be making a dramatic entrance."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I’m sorry I’m late. I woke up late this morning." The lie rolled off my tongue easily, though technically I’d been awake since Emma’s knock.

"Woke up late," he repeated, his tone suggesting he found this explanation less than satisfactory. "Miss Stone, exams are in three weeks and from what I’ve gathered, you’ve not been punctual this semester. You have a lot to catch up on and you had the guts to come late?”

I lowered my gaze in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what Professor Morrison condoned, neither am I interested in knowing but this is an advanced seminar on werewolf political history, not a casual book club. Punctuality isn’t just expected—it’s essential. When you arrive late, you disrupt not only my lecture but the concentration of your fellow students."

His rebuke was delivered in the same calm, educated tone he’d been using for his lecture, which somehow made it more stinging than if he’d simply shouted. I felt like a scolded schoolchild.

"You’re absolutely right," I said, straightening my shoulders and meeting his gaze directly. "It won’t happen again."

Something flickered in his expression—surprise, perhaps, at my direct acknowledgment rather than defensive excuses. "See that it doesn’t. Please take a seat so we can continue."

I spotted an empty chair near the back and made my way toward it, acutely aware of the curious stares from the other students. I spotted a few of my course mates whose faces looked familiar and they all nodded in acknowledgment of my presence.

However, I noticed a lot of graduate students in the class.

“He’s combining classes,” Kevin whom, I was trying my best to ignore suddenly changed seats to one one near me, leaned over and whisper. “He’s the history prof for graduate students. So, he’s combining classes for this topic since it’s the same thing we’d all be learning."

I nodded without looking at him.

The lecturer  waited until I was seated before returning to his lecture. "As I was saying before our interruption, the collapse of the Nightbane Kingdom in 1847 created a power vacuum that fundamentally altered werewolf society for generations. The old system of centralized royal authority gave way to the territorial pack structure we know today, but this transition wasn’t peaceful or complete."

Despite my embarrassing entrance, I found myself drawn into his lecture almost immediately. His knowledge was clearly extensive, but more than that, he had a gift for making historical events feel immediate and relevant. When he described the political machinations that had led to the kingdom’s fall, I could almost see the betrayals and power struggles playing out.

"The most tragic aspect of the Nightbane collapse," the lecturer continued, adjusting his glasses, "wasn’t the immediate violence, though that was considerable. It was the systematic elimination of the royal bloodlines and their associated magical abilities. Entire genetic legacies were wiped out, leaving gaps in our society that we’re still dealing with today."

His words sent a chill down my spine. Was he talking about bloodlines like mine? The Nightbane heritage my uncle had described?

"The Shadow Council, formed in the aftermath of the collapse, positioned themselves as guardians of stability," he went on, and I had to grip the edge of my desk to keep from reacting visibly. "But their methods were... extreme. They believed that magical bloodlines inherently destabilized werewolf society and took it upon themselves to ensure such abilities could never again threaten the new order."

I forced myself to breathe normally, though my heart was racing. The lecturer was discussing the very organization that, according to Uncle Tobias and Celeste, was currently hunting me. The coincidence was too great to ignore.

"Can anyone tell me why the Shadow Council considered magical bloodlines such a threat?" the lecturer asked, scanning the room.

A well-dressed young woman near the front raised her hand. "Because they could be used to control other werewolves? Like the old royal families used to do?"

"Partially correct," the lecturer nodded. "But it went deeper than simple control. The most powerful bloodlines—particularly the Nightbane pack—had abilities that transcended traditional pack boundaries. They could potentially unite or divide werewolf society on a continental scale. They were the most powerful packs and bloodlines back in those days."

My blood ran cold. He was talking about my abilities, my heritage, as if it were established historical fact rather than the fantastical revelation Uncle Tobias had dropped on me yesterday.

"Of course," the lecturer continued with a slight smile, "this is all historical speculation. The Nightbane bloodline was supposedly eliminated completely by 1863, along with most other magical lineages. Whether they ever actually possessed the abilities attributed to them in the old texts is a matter of considerable scholarly debate."

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. I found myself taking notes automatically while my mind raced with implications. The lecturer clearly knew far more about my supposed heritage than he was letting on. His casual mention of the Shadow Council and Nightbane bloodline couldn’t be coincidental.

When he finally concluded the lesson—something about the establishment of the modern pack treaty system—students began filing out, chatting quietly among themselves about the material. I started to gather my things, eager to escape and process what I’d learned.

"Miss Stone," The lecturer’s voice stopped me as I reached for my bag. "Could you wait a moment, please?"