Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 232

ISOLDE'S POV

Every muscle screamed in protest as I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking from weakness and fury.

"You really did it, didn't you?" The words tore from my throat, hoarse and raw. "You actually killed your own child. Your own fucking baby!"

Evanthe's perfectly manicured eyebrow arched with theatrical innocence. "Oh my, such language from a lady." Her lips curved into a cold smile. "Look at yourself, Isolde. Just look at what you've become."

I caught my reflection in the glass barrier—wild hair, hollow cheeks, bruises painting my face in shades of purple and yellow. The orange jumpsuit hung loose on my frame. I looked like exactly what I was: a broken woman rotting in a concrete tomb.

"How pathetic," Evanthe continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "The mighty Isolde Blackwood, reduced to this... this creature cowering in a cage."

My hands clenched into fists.

"You know what the best part is?" Evanthe's voice took on a conversational tone, as if we were old friends catching up. "Daddy dearest has already given the guards permission to do anything with you. Especially now that Ezra seems to have lost interest."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "That's a lie!"

The moment the denial escaped my lips, I knew I'd made a mistake. Evanthe's eyes lit up with predatory satisfaction.

"Oh, touched a nerve, did I?" She pressed closer to the glass, her breath fogging it slightly. "Face it, darling. You're completely alone now."

My heart hammered against my ribs, blood roaring in my ears. Lyra was howling inside my head, but my body felt like it was made of tissue paper—one wrong move and I'd collapse completely.

"You want to know something interesting?" Evanthe crouched down gracefully, bringing herself to my eye level as I slumped against the wall. "According to my sources, no one is investigating your case anymore. Not your little friend Thalia from the Moon Alliance Program. Not the security director Orion, who used to look at you with those puppy dog eyes. And certainly not your so-called destined mate."

Each word was a knife sliding between my ribs. "You're lying."

"Am I?" She tilted her head with mock concern. "They've all moved on, sweetie. Abandoned you like the liability you always were."

I wanted to throw myself at the glass, to claw at her perfect face, to make her pay for every lie that dripped from her venomous mouth. But my legs wouldn't hold me. I could barely manage to stay upright against the wall.

"The board of directors has already decided," Evanthe continued, her tone becoming businesslike. "You'll be quietly executed for the murder of my unborn child and the attempted assassination of future Luna. That would be me, in case you're too addled to follow."

The air left my lungs in a rush. "I didn't do it! You set this whole thing up! You orchestrated everything!"

Evanthe gasped dramatically, pressing her slender fingers to her lips. "Me?" Her voice was all wounded innocence. "Whatever could you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you psychotic bitch!"

"Such accusations," she tsked, examining her perfectly polished nails. "Do you have any proof of these wild claims?"

My scream of frustration came out as nothing more than a pathetic wheeze. My throat was too dry, my body too weak. The sound barely carried across the small cell, and Evanthe's expression grew even more pleased.

"Please," I whispered, the fight draining out of me like water through a sieve. "Just... just leave me alone."

"Oh, but I haven't gotten to the best part yet," Evanthe purred, rising to her full height. "You see, you've lost any right to make demands. You're nothing now. Less than nothing."

Tears burned my eyes despite my attempts to hold them back. She was right. She'd won. She'd always won, and I should have seen it coming from a mile away.

*"Don't give up,"* Lyra whimpered, but even her voice sounded defeated. *"We can't give up."*

"I win, Isolde," Evanthe declared with quiet triumph. "You should understand by now—no one gets between me and Ezra. No one."

My heart clenched painfully as she launched into her next attack.

"You know, earlier today Ezra came to see me at the hospital. He looked so remorseful, so concerned for my wellbeing." Her voice took on a dreamy quality. "He held my hand and promised that you would face appropriate punishment for what you did to me. To our child."

Each word was calculated torture, designed to tear me apart from the inside.

"And when I asked him what he could do to make me feel better..." She paused. "I told him that if he spent tonight with me in his penthouse, it would help with my recovery. And he agreed immediately. No hesitation whatsoever."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. My breath came in short, sharp gasps as the image formed in my mind—Ezra holding her, comforting her, believing her lies.

"I can barely contain my excitement," Evanthe continued, her voice getting breathier. "I'm already out of the hospital, and he sent his private car to pick me up. I used his personal elevator to his penthouse level. I can't wait for tonight to come so we can... reconnect."

Tears streamed down my face now, and I couldn't stop them. Each word she spoke felt like a blade carving my heart into pieces. Lyra was roaring in fury, demanding we fight back, but what was left to fight with?

"Evanthe..." My voice cracked. "Please just leave me alone."

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Oh, but making you cry is so entertaining. Seeing you like this—so broken, so pathetic—it's actually speeding up my recovery. Please don't ever try to deprive me of such pleasure."

I turned away from her, curling into myself as sobs wracked my weakened frame. I cried for the mess my life had become since walking through Silver Moon's doors.

I cried for the moment Ezra first laid eyes on me and didn't acknowledge what I was to him.

I cried because I was living the same nightmare my mother had endured.

"Well, I should get going," Evanthe said, rising elegantly. "I need to prepare for another visit tomorrow. I want to watch you fall apart piece by piece."

She smoothed down her designer blazer, every movement calculated and precise.

"Oh, and if you get bored tonight, try imagining all the positions Ezra and I will be doing in his penthouse. All those things he should be doing with his fated mate." She air-quoted the words mockingly. "Remember when you first saw us together? Oh dear, he fucking loves me sucking his dick."

Her victorious smile was the last thing I saw before she clicked away on her expensive heels, leaving me alone with the echoing sound of her departure.

I stared at the cold concrete wall, my body shaking with a cocktail of rage, grief, and despair. Every negative emotion I'd ever felt seemed to be flooding through me at once, threatening to drown me completely.

No... I couldn't just be a sitting duck and get slaughtered here...