Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 183

Ezra's POV

I stepped out of the elevator, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal.

The walk from the elevator to my penthouse door had never felt so long. Every muscle in my body was tensed, coiled tight with anxiety. The weight on my chest felt physical—crushing, suffocating.

I clenched my jaw as I entered the penthouse. The spacious living room seemed to stretch endlessly before me as I crossed it. Each step up the stairs felt heavier than the last.

By the time I reached the hallway leading to our bedroom, sweat had broken out across my forehead.

I paused outside the bedroom door, my hand frozen on the handle. For the first time in my life, I, Ezra Silverwood, Alpha of Silver Moon and Lycan King, was afraid.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Isolde was propped up against the headboard, very much awake, her blue eyes locking with mine the moment I entered. The sight of her—safe, beautiful, *mine*—nearly broke me.

"Hey," she said, her brow furrowing with concern. "Is everything okay? What was it?"

An instinctive urge to flee washed over me. I nearly turned around to walk back out the door.

I moved toward the bed instead, sitting on the edge beside her. Without a word, I pulled her into my arms, burying my face in her hair and breathing in her scent—that intoxicating mixture of chestnut blossoms that had become my anchor.

"Ezra?" Her voice vibrated against my chest as I held her tighter, pressing my lips against her temple. The electric pulse that always sparked between us when our skin touched momentarily soothed my frayed nerves.

But Isolde was too perceptive. She pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "Ezra. Tell me what's going on."

Evanthe's smug face flashed in my mind. Weeks pregnant. Maybe my child. The thought made bile rise in my throat.

Would Isolde forgive that I'd slept with Evanthe just before we met? That I might now have a child with the woman who had repeatedly tried to hurt her?

"It's nothing serious," I lied, stroking her cheek. "Just some Group business. I've already spoken with Orion and Nathaniel about it. We'll discuss the details at the office tomorrow."

The worry on her face eased slightly, but I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.

"Are you sure that's all?" she pressed, her head tilting to one side. "You seem... off."

"I'm sure," I forced a small smile. "It's just been a long day."

Guilt crashed over me in waves as I watched her blue eyes search mine. I had promised myself I wouldn't lie to her again, not after everything we'd been through. Yet here I was, breaking that promise less than twenty-four hours after making it.

Isolde reached up, her fingers gently tracing my jawline. "Ezra, I know you're the Lycan King and you carry the weight of the entire pack on your shoulders... but I want you to know that whatever troubles you, you can tell me. I'm here to listen, to advise if I can, okay?"

Her sincerity cut through me like a blade. I took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I know. Thank you."

"Can we go to bed now?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "I want to hold you all night."

A small smile played at her lips. "We should shower first."

---

The shrill ring of the private security line on my bedside table jolted me awake. Beside me, Isolde stirred but didn't wake, her naked body still warm against mine. I grabbed the phone quickly.

"What is it, Una?" I demanded, my voice rough with sleep.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you this early, Mr. Silverwood, but you need to come downstairs immediately."

My stomach lurched, a rush of heat flooding my body. Prime let out a warning growl in my mind. "What's happening downstairs, Una? Tell me."

A beat of hesitation. "It's Ms. Hawthorne, sir."

At the mention of Evanthe, my jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. "What about her?"

"She's... she's in your private kitchen, sir. She's ordering your chef to prepare her breakfast."

I stared at the ceiling in disbelief, feeling a headache building behind my eyes. "I'll be right down."

Hanging up, I glanced at Isolde, still peacefully asleep. I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and threw on clothes, then headed downstairs with my heart pounding in my ears.

I burst into my private kitchen, breathing heavily, to find Evanthe casually directing my chef team. The sight of her in my private space sent a surge of rage through me.

"What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

Evanthe turned, a smile spreading across her face like she had every right to be there. "Hi... good morning."

With a single look, I dismissed everyone in the room. Una and the chefs immediately filed out, leaving us alone.

I grabbed Evanthe's wrist and pulled her into the adjacent sitting room. "Let go of me, you're hurting me!" she hissed.

"Lower your voice," I warned, releasing her arm. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, showing up at my private residence at six in the morning, Evanthe?"

Her smile returned, sickly sweet. "My baby... your baby... our baby wanted to have breakfast at your place, so I thought: 'Why not?' That's why I came."

I stared at her in disbelief, feeling a wave of despair wash over me. *What have I done to myself?*

"Evanthe, that's absolute bullshit. A few-week-old fetus cannot tell you where it wants to eat breakfast. You shouldn't be here. I made myself clear yesterday."

My voice shook slightly, and I could feel cold sweat on my neck. I was terrified Isolde would wake up and find Evanthe here.

"Why not?" she challenged. "This is going to be my future home anyway. I can come here anytime I want."

"I told you last night, you're not moving in here," I said firmly.

Evanthe's eyes narrowed. "Why do you look so terrified to see me in your home? Oh... you haven't told Isolde yet. That's why you don't want me here, isn't it?"

Before I could respond, I heard a soft voice from the stairway.

"Told me what?"

I turned to see Isolde standing on the stairs, wearing just my shirt, her hair tousled from sleep. My world crashed down around me as I watched her descend the last few steps.

"What's going on?" she asked, her blue eyes moving between us.

"Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Evanthe asked me, triumph gleaming in her eyes.

"Evanthe, shut up," I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

But Evanthe ignored me, turning to face Isolde with a victorious smile. "I'm pregnant. The baby is his."

Isolde froze on the bottom step, her blue eyes going instantly hollow.

Everything I'd built with Isolde, every moment of trust we'd carefully constructed, crumbled to dust in that single moment.

And all I could think was that I had no one to blame but myself, *I'm so fucked up.*