Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 164

ISOLDE'S POV

I paced back and forth in Ezra's penthouse, my footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor. My heart hammered against my ribcage, sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool temperature.

Why had Beta Nathaniel escorted me from the underground detention cell to Ezra's private quarters? The question kept spinning in my mind, along with increasingly dark scenarios.

*He's going to kill you,* my paranoia whispered. *Or worse.*

"Why would Ezra want me to wait here instead of the detention room?" I muttered to myself, running my hands through my tangled hair. "Does he want one last fuck before having security execute me?"

The thought made me nauseous. I'd already been through hell—accused of poisoning, imprisoned, interrogated. What more could he want from me?

The soft ping of the elevator made me freeze. I turned sharply as the doors slid open, revealing Ezra in all his intimidating glory. His face was expressionless, his posture rigid as he stepped into the penthouse. My heart sank at the sight of him.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Alpha Ezra," I said softly, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

"You've been cleared of all charges," he announced without preamble.

The words hit me like a physical force. My body trembled, my pupils dilating as the meaning sank in. Relief flooded through me so intensely I nearly collapsed.

"I've been cleared?" It sounded too good to be true. "Really?"

*This can't be happening,* I thought. *After everything that's happened, I'm actually free?*

"Orion and I personally investigated the matter," Ezra explained, his voice measured and controlled. "We found evidence pointing to the true culprit. The person who tried to frame you."

My mind immediately went to Evanthe. It had to be her. Sybilla didn't have the brains or influence to orchestrate something this complex. But I was certain Sybilla had been involved somehow. She always was when trouble found me.

"Who was behind it?" I asked, secretly praying: *Please be Evanthe, please be Evanthe!*

"Sybilla."

My heart shattered into a million pieces. Not because I cared about Sybilla—God knows I didn't—but because I knew this was wrong. This wasn't the full truth.

*He's lying,* Lyra growled within me. *Or he's been misled.*

"Sybilla?" I echoed in disbelief.

"Yes. Security footage shows her tampering with the food served to the guests and the girls who claimed you poisoned them. Those girls have confessed they were acting under Sybilla's instructions. All evidence points to her."

I knew with absolute certainty that this was Evanthe's doing. She'd orchestrated the entire thing and then neatly sacrificed Sybilla when things went south. Sybilla was many things—petty, vindictive, jealous—but she wasn't the mastermind here. She was just another pawn in Evanthe's game.

But what could I do? I had no proof that Evanthe was involved. Accusing her without evidence would only make me look desperate and vengeful. It might even land me back in that detention cell.

"Was it only Sybilla?" I asked carefully. "Was she the only one involved?"

"Several other girls were implicated, but she was the ringleader. She planned everything."

I fought to keep my face neutral. *Sybilla doesn't have the brains or the influence to pull this off. She couldn't possibly have orchestrated something this complex.*

"I... I need to speak with Sybilla," I said, my voice trembling.

Ezra frowned, studying me with those penetrating gray eyes. He took my hand, his warm fingers wrapping around mine. "Isolde, you've been cleared. What you need now is rest."

"I can only rest after I've spoken with Sybilla."

He sighed, clearly frustrated with my persistence.

"I insist," I said, my voice stronger now. "Please."

"What exactly do you plan to say to her?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Many things," I replied heatedly. "Please, Ezra, let me see Sybilla." I looked at him with pleading eyes, willing him to understand how important this was to me.

After a long moment, he relented. "Fine, if you insist."

Relief washed over me. "Thank you," I breathed.

He nodded curtly and gestured toward the elevator. As we descended to the detention level, I tried several times to convince Ezra to let me go alone.

And I tried one last time as we walked down the corridor.

Eventually, he gave in. "Alright, Isolde. If you don't want me present, I'll go. Find me when you're done."

I thanked him, watching as he turned and walked away. Once he was gone, I continued alone down the long, empty, nearly pitch-black corridor. The sound of my heels echoed ominously against the concrete walls. The underground detention area felt like something from a nightmare—cold, sterile, and designed to break spirits.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. The memory of my own time here was still raw, the fear and uncertainty still lingering in my mind. Each cell I passed reminded me of my own captivity, of the helplessness I'd felt. But now I was on the other side—free while someone else was caged.

*She deserves this,* Lyra whispered in my mind. *She tried to destroy you.*

*But she couldn't possibly plan it all.* I countered.

The detention block seemed endless, the dim lights casting long shadows across the floor. Guards stood at attention, their faces impassive as I passed. They knew who I was—the woman who'd been falsely accused, now exonerated.

I found Sybilla's cell halfway down the detention block. It was identical to the one I'd been held in—stark, minimalist, with nothing but a bed, toilet, and sink. The reinforced glass wall allowed me to see her before she noticed me. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her usually perfect hair disheveled, her makeup smeared from crying.

When she finally saw me standing outside, she let out an irritated sigh, quickly trying to compose herself. The vulnerability I'd glimpsed vanished behind a mask of contempt.

Looking at her, I couldn't help but think that just a short time ago, I had been locked in another cell just like this one, all because of her. Or rather, because of Evanthe using her. The role reversal was jarring—me on the outside, her trapped within.

"What are you doing here?" Sybilla asked, her voice laced with displeasure. Despite her attempt at bravado, I could hear the fear underneath. She knew she was in serious trouble, and there would be no last-minute reprieve.