Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 178

ISOLDE'S POV

Yesterday had been a whirlwind. Last night Thalia had practically dragged me to Silver Moon's underground social club to celebrate. We'd had an amazing time—drinking, laughing, and for a few precious hours, I'd forgotten about all the chaos in my life.

But reality came crashing back this morning as we headed toward the courthouse for Sybilla's trial. My stomach twisted into knots as I sat in the back of Ezra's sleek black car, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my blouse.

"You're nervous," Ezra observed, his deep voice breaking the silence.

I glanced at him, taking in his perfect profile. Since declaring me as his chosen mate, I'd been wondering when he would officially mark me. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I knew it would have to wait until after Sybilla's trial concluded.

"Is it that obvious?" I tried to smile, but it felt forced.

"Your scent gives you away," he replied, his eyes briefly meeting mine. "Your father has already arrived at the courthouse."

My heart skipped a beat. "He's there already?"

Ezra nodded, his expression unreadable. "He was escorted there an hour ago."

I swallowed hard, my hands beginning to shake. The thought of Sybilla's sentencing terrified me. Despite all the evidence pointing to her as the mastermind behind the attacks, she was still being charged as an accomplice. The punishment would be severe regardless, but it was the thought of facing my father that truly paralyzed me.

As we pulled up to Silver Moon's legal department building, my hands were trembling so badly I could barely unfasten my seatbelt. Ezra reached over, his warm fingers steadying mine.

"Breathe," he instructed softly.

I nodded, taking a deep breath as we walked into the building. Security personnel flanked us, their presence both reassuring and intimidating. My father had always favored Sybilla. How would he look at me now, knowing I was part of the reason his favorite daughter was facing punishment?

What if this made him refuse to tell me about my mother? The thought made my chest tighten with anxiety.

Ezra led me down a corridor, but instead of heading toward what I assumed would be the courtroom, we turned into a private meeting room. I looked around in confusion as the security guards stepped outside and closed the door behind us.

"Why are we here?" I asked, frowning. "This doesn't look like a courtroom."

Ezra moved to stand by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the morning light. "Because it isn't. I thought you needed to see your father privately before the trial. Security will escort him here shortly, and you two can talk."

I blinked in surprise. "I thought that would happen after the trial."

Ezra's expression darkened slightly. "Your stepsister's crimes aren't minor. Her sentence won't be light. I wanted you to speak with your father now because I don't think he'll be in the mood to talk to anyone after hearing what punishment she'll receive."

The realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. Of course Ezra was right. After Sybilla's sentencing, my father would be devastated, angry, possibly even hateful toward me. This might be my only chance to speak with him.

"You're right," I admitted, a wave of gratitude washing over me. "I hadn't thought of that. Thank you."

Alpha Ezra nodded. "You're welcome."

We fell into silence as we waited. My anxiety built with each passing minute, my heart pounding so hard I was sure Ezra could hear it. Lyra shifted restlessly inside me, sensing my distress.

*Calm down,* she urged. *You're not the one on trial here.*

*But I might as well be in my father's eyes,* I replied silently.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our conversation. My eyes fixed on the door, my palms instantly sweating. The footsteps grew louder, and I felt my heart climb into my throat, my breathing becoming shallow and hot.

The pain in my stomach intensified. I glanced at Ezra, who gave me an encouraging nod as if to say, "You've got this, girl."

But I didn't have this. The confidence I'd felt last night had evaporated, leaving only fear and insecurity. I wasn't ready. I couldn't face him. Not yet.

Lyra moved anxiously within me, reflecting my nervous energy.

The door opened, and my soul left my body.

Two security guards entered first, their faces expressionless. Then came the third person—my father, Alaric.

When his eyes landed on me, I gasped, my knees nearly buckling beneath me.

"We'll give you time to talk," Ezra said, gesturing to the guards to follow him out.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving just me and my father in the room. I nearly collapsed.

My father stood there, looking at me with an expression I couldn't read. I was frozen, terrified, unable to form words as I stared at the man I hadn't seen in two months.

He looked older, worn down by worry and stress. For a moment, I saw something like regret flash across his face.

"I never wanted either of you to end up in this situation," he said, his voice softer now. "The debt... it was crushing us. I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," I replied. "You could have told me the truth instead of letting me find out I was being sold to the Moon Alliance Program when they showed up at our door."

A heavy silence fell between us. My father looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Isolde," then he said, his voice cracking slightly as he stepped toward me. "I know I've made terrible mistakes. With you. With our family."

Something in his tone broke through my defenses. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I blinked them back, determined not to show weakness.

"I missed you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every day, I wondered if you were okay."

"Did you?" I asked, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. "Or were you too busy worrying about Sybilla?"

He reached out hesitantly, as if afraid I might pull away. "I worried about both my daughters. I still do."

The sincerity in his voice cracked something open inside me. Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and let him pull me into his arms. His embrace was warm and familiar—the same strong arms that had protected me as a child.

I felt tears streaming down my face as I buried my head against his chest. "Dad," I whispered brokenly. "Dad, I missed you."

He kissed the top of my head, his own breathing ragged with emotion. "I missed you too, princess," he whispered.

Princess. He hadn't called me that since I was a little girl, before Sybilla and her mother came along and ruined everything.