Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 280

Isolde's POV

I pressed my face deeper into my pillow, letting the tears soak into the expensive fabric as Holden's voice echoed through my bedroom door for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Isolde! Come on, open the door!"

His words barely registered through the storm raging in my head. *Lillian is back.* The thought kept hitting me like a physical blow, each repetition making my chest tighten until I could barely breathe. *How is this even possible? She's supposed to be dead!*

"Isolde, I'm serious! Open this damn door right now!"

The desperation in Holden's voice finally penetrated my misery. He'd been calling for over an hour, and I knew my brother well enough to recognize when his patience was wearing thin.

"If I count to three and you don't open this door, I'm kicking it down," he threatened, his voice harder now. "One..."

I lifted my head from the pillow, my face puffy and tear-streaked. He wasn't bluffing—Holden never made empty threats, and the bastard was strong enough to actually follow through.

"Two..."

"Okay, okay!" I scrambled off the bed, my legs shaky as I stumbled toward the door. "I'm coming!"

I twisted the lock and pulled the door open, immediately meeting Holden's concerned eyes. The moment I saw his worried expression, fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Oh, Isolde..." Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms, his strong embrace enveloping me as I collapsed against his chest. "It's okay... everything's going to be okay."

"No," I sobbed into his shirt, my voice muffled and broken. "It won't be okay. Nothing will ever be okay again."

He guided me back into the room, settling us both on the edge of my bed while I cried against his shoulder. I felt pathetic—completely destroyed by news that shouldn't even matter anymore. *I left that life behind. I chose my freedom over him.*

But the truth was more complicated, wasn't it? Deep down, some foolish part of me had held onto hope. Hope that maybe someday, when I was stronger and more successful, Ezra and I could find our way back to each other. That hope had been crushed tonight by a dead woman walking back into his life.

*The dead should stay dead,* I thought bitterly. *Why couldn't she just rest in peace?*

"Talk to me," Holden said gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "What happened? You were fine when we left the club."

I pulled back to look at him, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "Lillian came back."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Lillian? Who's Lillian?"

"She's Ezra's first fated mate."

"But..." Holden's confusion deepened. "I thought you were his fated mate."

"I am!" The outburst surprised us both. I took a shaky breath and continued more quietly. "I mean, I thought I was. But apparently, she's not dead like everyone believed."

"Wait, hold on." Holden held up a hand, his expression shifting to disbelief. "You're talking about that woman who died in the raid? The one from years ago?"

"Yes."

"But... that's impossible." He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Since when can werewolves resurrect from the dead? Since when can werewolves have two living fated mates at the same time?"

"I don't know!" My voice cracked with frustration. "But she's back, and she's alive, and now..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Now what?"

"Now he'll choose her." The admission came out as barely a whisper. "She was his first mate. He loved her first. I was just a substitute, but now that she's back, he won't need me anymore."

"That's not true." Holden's voice was firm, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Ezra loves you."

"No, he doesn't." I shook my head, fresh tears threatening. "He might want me, but love? I was just filling a void left by her."

"Isolde, listen to me." His voice was gentle but insistent. "What matters isn't who he loved in the past—it's who he loves now, who he wants to be with now. The past is the past."

"The past came back to haunt me," I said miserably. "Maybe I did something to anger the Moon Goddess. Maybe she brought Lillian back to punish me."

"Maybe it's because I left him two years ago." The thought had been torturing me since Ezra's revelation. "What if I destroyed my own chance at happiness? What if this is karma for abandoning him?"

"You're overthinking this." Holden pulled me closer, his voice soothing. "You need to get some sleep. Your mind isn't clear right now. Do you want me to stay with you?"

I nodded gratefully. "Yes. I really need that right now."

He kicked off his shoes and we both lay down on the bed, him holding me as I curled against his side. Despite my certainty that sleep would be impossible, having Holden there was comforting. His steady breathing and warm presence helped quiet some of the chaos in my mind.

---

The next morning, I woke to find sunlight streaming through my windows and the sound of running water from my ensuite bathroom. I'd managed to sleep after all, though my eyes felt swollen and my head ached from crying.

After a quick shower that helped wash away some of the previous night's emotional residue, I emerged from the bathroom to find Holden standing outside my door with a puzzled expression.

"Why are you interrogating me at seven in the morning?" I asked, stifling a yawn.

"Did Ezra mention sending service staff over?" he asked without preamble.

"No." I frowned. "Why would he?"

"Have you already hired a chef?"

"No." My confusion grew. "Holden, what's with the third degree?"

"There's a girl downstairs in the kitchen cooking," Holden explained, his expression serious. "She's not wearing a maid's uniform or those white robes that chefs wear—just regular clothes."

I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing. The sound was sharp and slightly hysterical after the emotional devastation of the previous night, but Holden's description was just too ridiculous.

"What exactly did I say that was funny?" he demanded, clearly annoyed by my reaction.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, trying to control my laughter. "Chefs don't wear white robes, you idiot! You can just say chef's uniform."

But as quickly as the laughter had come, it died away as the implications of his words sank in. My expression turned serious. "Wait, she's still down there? Cooking?"

"Yes."

"Now I'm not laughing anymore. I'm completely on alert." My heart rate picked up as paranoia crept in. "You found a strange girl cooking in our kitchen and you didn't question her? You just left her there?"

"I wanted to tell you first," he said defensively.

"What if she's a spy sent to poison us?" The fear felt very real given my current circumstances. "Holden, I have a lot of enemies in this werewolf organization."

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, she's not here for that. She looks too pretty and sexy to be an assassin."

"You've got to be kidding me." I stared at him in disbelief. That was his reasoning? *That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.*