Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 288

ISOLDE'S POV

"Is that so?" I asked quietly, my voice carrying just enough chill to cut through their chatter.

All three girls spun around as if they'd been electrocuted. Their eyes widened, mouths dropping open in perfect unison as they took in my presence. The collective gasp was almost comical.

"Isolde!" one of them managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"In the flesh," I replied.

The girl who'd spoken first—a brunette with nervous energy radiating from every pore—stuttered and looked desperately to her companions for help. I could practically smell the fear rolling off them.

"Do you have something you'd like to say to me directly?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Or do you only have the courage to speak when my back is turned?"

Another girl, this one with auburn hair, forced what had to be the most painfully fake smile I'd ever seen. "No! Of course not. Why would you even ask that? We were just... discussing the competition."

I felt a flash of regret. Part of me wished I'd just ignored them and walked away. These girls were cowards, plain and simple. But I was here now, and I needed to finish it.

"Really?" I said, my voice deceptively calm. "Because from where I was standing, it seemed like you had quite a lot to say about me. I heard every word."

The color drained from their faces so quickly I thought one of them might faint.

"Let me see if I got this right," I continued, my voice growing sharper. "You said I'm not a good designer. That I steal other people's designs and claim them as my own. You think I can only win this competition because Ezra would manipulate the results for me." I paused, letting that sink in. "That's quite an accusation against the integrity of Alpha, isn't it? Should I tell him exactly what you think of his character?"

Terror spread across their faces like wildfire. They stood frozen, unable to form words, clearly understanding the massive fucking mistake they'd just made.

Finally, one of them cleared her throat. "I... I mean... we apologize for talking behind your back," she stammered, her voice shaking with fear. "It was just a moment of weakness on our part. It won't happen again. Please don't tell Mr. Silverwood about this. Please."

I straightened my shoulders, drawing myself up to my full height. "You better watch your tongues," I said, my voice carrying the authority of someone who'd grown up in the upper echelons of werewolf society, "because next time, I won't be so lenient with you. Don't let your dirty mouths mention my name again!" My voice rose slightly, making several nearby people glance our way.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away.

---

By the time I reached the design building's workspace, most of the initial adrenaline from my confrontation had worn off. The modern studio buzzed with creative energy—people debugging 3D printers, sorting through premium fabric samples, and setting up computers loaded with the latest design software in their assigned cubicles.

My teammate Lily looked up from where she was organizing her materials. "I wish they could have given us private workspaces," she said with a sigh. "Working surrounded by all these other designers makes me anxious."

Cathy, ever practical, shook her head. "You know they can't do that. We need to work in an environment where we can be monitored to ensure no one cheats. This is a Silver Moon Group-sponsored competition—the rules are strict."

"Yeah, yeah," Lily muttered. "That's the kind of pressure I don't like. It feels like being watched in a gladiator arena."

"Well," Cathy said matter-of-factly, "you have no choice but to work under pressure. That's the nature of competition in the fashion industry."

Lily sighed heavily and went back to arranging her materials.

The next few hours passed in a blur of organization and preparation. The Silver Moon Group had provided top-tier facilities—everything a designer could need to create their vision. Despite the competitive atmosphere, there was an undeniable excitement in the air. This was where we'd bring our designs to life, where careers would be made or broken.

By two in the afternoon, I was exhausted. Most of the other teams had already left to prepare for tomorrow's preliminary design submission, leaving only a handful of us still working in the hall.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted and need to head back now," I announced, grabbing my designer bag from the nearby cubicle and slinging it over my left arm.

"See you tomorrow," I told my teammates. "Have a pleasant evening."

"Stay safe, Isolde," Cathy called after me.

"Thanks," I said, managing a genuine smile.

I was almost at the exit when a familiar voice called out behind me.

"Isolde."

I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart immediately beginning to race. That voice—deep, commanding, unmistakably masculine. My wolf Lyra became instantly alert, her attention snapping to full focus.

*That voice. That charming, deep baritone that has the power to make my heart beat faster than it should. It belongs to no one else but the CEO of Silver Moon Group, Alpha Ezra Silverwood.*

My wolf stirred restlessly within me, responding instinctively to the presence of her Alpha.

My head whipped around toward the source of the voice, and when I saw him walking toward me with that hint of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his mouth, I thought I might spontaneously combust. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that emphasized every line of his powerful frame.

But I forced myself to remain still, schooling my features into what I hoped looked like displeasure.

*I'm getting good at this—masking my true feelings for him.*

When Ezra reached me, his presence seemed to fill the entire space around us. I caught the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something deeper, more primal—his natural Alpha scent that made my wolf want to roll over and submit.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.