Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 24

Isolde's POV

 

I was deep in the first peaceful sleep I'd had in days when aggressive pounding on my door jolted me awake. Sunlight was streaming through my curtains, but my body felt like I'd only been asleep for minutes.

 

"Open up, Isolde!" Sybilla's voice rang out from the hallway, sharp and demanding.

 

Across the room, Thalia sat up in her bed, her hair disheveled and eyes wide with alarm. "What the hell?" she whispered.

 

*What the hell does she want now?*

 

I stumbled to the door in my pajamas, my hair a mess and my mind still foggy with sleep. The moment I turned the handle, the door was pushed open forcefully, nearly knocking me backward.

 

Sybilla strode in like she owned the place, followed by Greta and two women I didn't recognize. All of them looked grimly determined, and my stomach immediately dropped.

 

"Good morning, Miss Blackwood," Greta said coolly, her eyes taking in my disheveled appearance with obvious disapproval. "I trust you slept well?"

 

"I was sleeping until you people decided to break down my door," I snapped, still disoriented. "What do you want?"

 

Thalia pulled her blanket up to her chin, looking between us with growing concern. "Is everything okay?"

 

"Thalia, please step outside," Greta said without even looking at her. "This doesn't concern you."

 

"Actually, I'd prefer she stays," I said, instinctively wanting an ally present.

 

"What you prefer is irrelevant," Greta replied curtly. "Thalia, out. Now."

 

Thalia looked at me helplessly before gathering her robe and slipping past the intimidating group toward the door. Just before she left, she caught my eye with an expression that said *I'll get help* before disappearing into the hallway.

 

"We're here because of your... performance last night," Greta said once we were alone. "Or should I say, your lack thereof."

 

I looked between them, confusion giving way to dread. "What are you talking about?"

 

Sybilla stepped forward with a malicious smile. "Don't play dumb, sister. You know exactly what we're talking about."

 

"Actually, I don't—"

 

"Your behavior at the Executive Services Night was completely unacceptable," Sybilla continued, her voice dripping with false concern. "You refused to cooperate with the Lycan men who were interested in you. You ran away from your assigned duties."

 

*Assigned duties.* The euphemism made me want to vomit.

 

"I didn't run away from anything," I said defensively. "I was—"

 

"You were what? Too good to provide the services you're here to provide?" Sybilla's mask of sisterly concern dropped completely.

 

Greta stepped forward, her expression stern. "Miss Blackwood, your contract clearly states that you are expected to fulfill all requirements of the Alliance Program. That includes providing companionship and services to our distinguished Lycan men when requested."

 

"I was there," I protested. "I participated—"

 

"You hid in a corner like a frightened child," Sybilla cut me off. "And when a respected executive showed interest in you, you caused a scene."

 

*A scene? He was sexually assaulting me!*

 

"That's not what happened—"

 

"It doesn't matter what you think happened," Greta said firmly. "What matters is that you clearly lack the proper training to fulfill your obligations. Which is why we're here."

 

One of the women I didn't recognize stepped forward, holding what looked like a garment bag. "You'll need to come with us immediately."

 

"Come with you where?" I asked, backing toward my bed.

 

"To receive proper instruction," Greta replied. "It's clear that you need additional training in how to properly serve our Lycan men. Your... rural upbringing has left you woefully unprepared for your role here."

 

*Rural upbringing?* The condescension in her voice made my blood boil.

 

"I'm not going anywhere," I said firmly. "I have training with Nyssa this morning—"

 

"Your combat training has been suspended," Greta cut me off. "As of now, your focus will be on learning the skills that actually matter for your position here."

 

"And what skills would those be?" I asked, though I was afraid I already knew the answer.

 

Sybilla's smile was pure venom. "How to please a man, of course. How to move your body in ways that appeal to them. How to use your voice to entertain them. How to make yourself... irresistible."

 

The implications of her words hit me like a slap. They were talking about training me to be a better whore.

 

"I'm not doing this," I said, crossing my arms. "You can't force me—"

 

"Actually, we can," Greta said pleasantly. "Your contract gives us considerable latitude in determining your training requirements. And right now, you require intensive instruction in proper etiquette and presentation."

 

The second unknown woman moved toward me, apparently ready to physically ensure my cooperation.

 

"Get dressed," Greta commanded. "You have five minutes, or we'll dress you ourselves."

 

"And if I refuse?"

 

"Then you'll be in violation of your contract," Greta replied. "Which means you will be punished. I'm sure that you know what that is."

 

*Fuck.*

 

They had me trapped, and they knew it. I could see the satisfaction in Sybilla's eyes as she watched me realize I had no choice.

 

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "But I'm getting dressed alone."

 

"Two minutes," Greta said, checking her watch.

 

I grabbed clothes at random from my dresser—jeans, a sweater, anything that covered more skin than the outfits they'd probably want me to wear. When I emerged from the bathroom, all four women were waiting impatiently.

 

"Let's go," Greta said, already heading for the door.

 

As they began to escort me from the room, I tried one last time to assert some control. "I want to tell Thalia where I'm going—"

 

"She will be informed when necessary," Greta cut me off. "Move."

 

One of the unknown women took my arm—not gently—and guided me toward the door. I looked back at my room, at the life I'd been trying to build here, knowing that whatever was about to happen would change everything.

 

They escorted me through parts of the Silver Moon complex I'd never seen before, down corridors that seemed designed for privacy and discretion. We eventually arrived at what looked like a converted conference room, but the contents made my stomach drop.

 

The space had been transformed into something between a dance studio and a finishing school from hell. Mirrors covered one wall, with a ballet barre running along their length. In one corner sat a piano, and scattered throughout the room were various pieces of furniture that looked designed for... specific purposes.

 

And standing in the center of it all, looking perfectly at home, was Evanthe.

 

"Ah, there she is," Evanthe said with a bright smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Our little problem child."

 

*Great. This day just keeps getting better.*

 

"Evanthe will be overseeing your training," Greta explained.

 

*Goddamn it!*