Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 110

ISOLDE'S POV

I left the cafeteria with my mind still fixated on Thalia.

As I walked back to our shared apartment, my thoughts raced.

When I entered our suite, the living area was quiet. I moved toward Thalia's bedroom, stopping outside her closed door.

"Thalia?" I called softly, knocking twice. No response.

I pushed the door open slightly and peered inside. Thalia lay on her bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly.

"Thalia?" I whispered again, moving closer.

She remained perfectly still, not even a flutter of her eyelids. I frowned, studying her carefully. Her breathing was too measured, too perfect. I'd spent enough nights in this apartment to know that Thalia was a light sleeper who startled at the smallest sounds.

She clearly didn't want to engage right now.

With a resigned sigh, I took one last look at Thalia's "sleeping" form before backing out of the room.

The digital clock on the wall read 7:00 PM. Too early to sleep, too late to do anything productive. The walls of our luxury prison suddenly felt suffocating.

As I left the Privilege Apartments building, the cool evening air hit my face, bringing temporary relief. I headed straight for the landscaped grounds surrounding the Silver Moon Tower—my usual evening walking spot where I could at least pretend to have some freedom.

"What a fucking disaster of a day," I muttered to myself, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets. I struggled to keep my emotions in check, feeling dangerously close to breaking down.

I'd already lost one friend. If Thalia went too, I didn't know if I could handle it. She's my closest friend here.

A slight sound behind me interrupted my thoughts—the soft scuff of footsteps on the path. I froze, listening intently. The footsteps stopped too.

My werewolf instincts flared with warning.

I took two deliberate steps forward. The footsteps behind me followed. Three more steps. Again, the echo of movement followed precisely.

My instincts screamed danger. I immediately spun and ran, pushing my legs as hard as I could. The footsteps behind me quickened, gaining ground. Before I could reach the safety of the lit pathway, a powerful shove from behind sent me sprawling onto the grass.

I threw my hands out to break my fall, preventing my face from smashing into the ground. In one fluid motion, I rolled and turned to face my attackers.

Two men in black athletic wear stood over me, their faces concealed by masks. One lunged for my legs, but I was faster. My combat training kicked in as I delivered a powerful kick straight to his face. He stumbled backward, clearly not expecting such resistance.

The second attacker tried the same approach, but met the same fate as I precisely aimed my foot at his vulnerable points. I scrambled to my feet, unleashing my werewolf speed, and sprinted toward the Privilege Apartments building.

I ran at what felt like the speed of light, my werewolf abilities giving me an edge they clearly hadn't anticipated. I was certain those men stood there stunned by my velocity.

By the time I reached the Privilege Apartments, I was breathing hard, drenched in sweat, my palms scraped from the fall. The abrasions stung, but I knew my werewolf healing would take care of them soon enough.

One of the older werewolf servants, spotted me as I entered and gasped in shock.

"My goodness, Miss Isolde! What happened to you?"

I tried to catch my breath, my mind racing. I knew exactly who had sent those men after me. Evanthe.

"Nothing important," I replied dismissively.

"But your hands are bleeding," She pointed out, concern etching her features.

"It'll heal quickly. I'm fine," I insisted, already turning to head for the elevators.

"Wait," She called after me. "Mr. Ezra's driver is here to take you to his penthouse."

I turned back to see the familiar black luxury sedan pulling up to the entrance. Despite everything, a smile spread across my face as I walked forward and opened the passenger door.

"Are you leaving now?" She asked, clearly surprised. "Don't you want to clean up first?"

"Yes," I replied simply. "No need. I'll shower there. Goodnight, ma'am." I jumped into the car and closed the door behind me.

As the vehicle pulled away, heading toward Silver Moon Tower, I felt a strange sense of relief.

When we arrived, I made my way to the top floor unescorted. The security personnel had become accustomed to my presence.

Walking down the hallway, I could almost hear the thoughts of the guards we passed. They were probably speculating about how many times Ezra and I had sex each night, assuming I must be exceptionally skilled to be summoned so frequently.

The irony was that Ezra hadn't had sex with me, and I was still a virgin. Yet somehow, I sometimes wished their assumptions were true.

When Ezra opened the penthouse door, his deep voice saying my name sent a shiver down my spine. I smiled warmly at him, but he didn't return the gesture. His eyes swept over me from head to toe, and when they returned to my face, his gaze had darkened considerably.

His eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown. His mouth twisted downward in displeasure.

"What the fuck happened to you? Why is your hair such a mess? Why do you have bruises forming?" The concern in his voice melted my heart.

"I just went for a jog and tripped... I'm fine, really." I looked directly into his eyes as I lied, hoping he would believe me. Telling him the truth wouldn't change anything—it would only make Evanthe angrier and more dangerous to me.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his expression making it clear he didn't believe my story.

He stepped aside to let me enter. "You should go take a shower, and I hope those bruises heal quickly because seeing you like this makes me want to kill someone!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned to smile at him, biting my lower lip and giving him a seductive smile. "Does it?" I asked, my voice unnaturally calm. "You don't like seeing me hurt, do you?"

"Isolde, bathroom, now!" he commanded, pointing toward the bathroom door.

I nodded crisply. "Yes, sir!" I walked toward the bathroom, grinning from ear to ear.

He cared about me. I had a place in this man's heart.

In his luxurious bathroom, I stripped off my clothes and was about to step into the shower when Ezra walked in.

"Are you here to watch me shower?" I asked.

"You just read my mind," he replied.

I widened my eyes in surprise, furrowing my brow and tilting my head, giving him a playful side-eye. "You can't be serious."

Ezra began walking toward me, his expression dead serious. His eyes darkened with desire. Deep. Wanting. I could see how hard he was fighting not to kiss me, not to possess me, not to mark me.

"Joking isn't my style, Isolde, as I think you're well aware," he said, stopping when our bodies were almost touching.

I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to meet his intense gaze.