Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 335

Isolde's POV

I stood in front of my full-length mirror, studying my reflection with critical eyes.

My outfit choice felt perfect—fitted jeans that hugged my curves just right, a crisp white button-down that was casual yet put-together, and ankle boots that gave me confidence with every step. I smoothed down my hair one last time, silently praying that Daryl hadn't decided to go all formal on me at the last minute.

*"You know this is only going to piss off Ezra,"* Lyra's voice whispered in my mind, her tone carrying that familiar note of warning.

I ignored her completely, reaching for my purse and phone from the dresser. The device buzzed in my hand with a new message from Daryl: *"I'm downstairs."*

I headed downstairs, but the scene waiting for me in the living room made me want to turn right back around.

Holden sat on the couch like some kind of makeshift intimidation committee, his arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, fixing Daryl with the most scrutinizing stare I'd ever seen.

Daryl stood near the entrance, looking like he was about to face a firing squad. Despite being a rising name in the fashion industry, he couldn't seem to meet Holden's eyes, his usual confidence completely evaporated. He looked exactly like a nervous teenager about to ask a father's permission to take his daughter on a date.

"Seriously, Holden?" I said, walking past him and deliberately hitting his shoulder harder than necessary. "Could you be any more dramatic?"

Daryl's eyes lit up the moment he saw me, and I could practically see the relief flooding through him. "Isolde," he said, his voice coming out rougher than usual.

"Hey," I said, offering him a genuine smile while shooting an apologetic look. "Sorry about the interrogation. He thinks he's protecting me, but really he's just being a pain in the ass."

"I try to take care of her, and she thinks that way. So heartwarming," Holden muttered from the couch, not bothering to unfold his arms.

I rolled my eyes so hard I'm surprised they didn't fall out of my head. As Daryl and I moved toward the door, Holden's voice stopped us cold.

"You better take good care of her," he said, his tone deadly serious as he locked eyes with Daryl. "She comes back missing even one hair, and you're a dead man."

Daryl, bless him, handled it with grace. "I understand completely," he said gently, his voice steady and reassuring. "I'll take excellent care of her and bring her home safe and sound."

I made one final exasperated face at Holden before following Daryl out the front door.

"I'm so sorry about that," I said the moment we were outside, genuine remorse coloring my voice. "He's been ridiculously overprotective."

Daryl chuckled, and the sound helped ease some of my embarrassment. "Trust me, I completely get it. I've terrorized plenty of guys who've come to pick up my sisters. Brothers have to look out for their sisters, even when they're older."

"Oh..." The understanding hit me like a lightbulb going off. I could actually picture Daryl in full intimidation mode, grilling some poor guy who wanted to take his sister out. "That must be terrifying!"

A sleek black Maybach pulled up next to Daryl's car, and my heart immediately dropped into my stomach. The passenger door opened, and Alpha Ezra stepped out, leaving his driver Cade behind the wheel.

I sucked in a sharp breath, anger flaring hot in my chest. *What the fuck is he doing here?* There was no doubt in my mind that he'd come to stop me from going on this date.

Daryl immediately recognized the CEO of Silver Moon Group and respectfully bowed his head. "Good evening, Mr. Silverwood."

Ezra's voice was as oppressive as death itself when he spoke. "I need a moment alone with my mate, if you don't mind."

Daryl nodded and stepped away, though I caught a flash of understanding in his eyes—like he'd suddenly connected all the dots about the complicated situation he'd stumbled into.

"Why are you here?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You know exactly why I'm here, Isolde," he said, his voice carrying that familiar note of authority.

The arrogance in his tone only made me angrier. "I don't care if you like it or not, I'm going."

"I don't want you to go," he said simply. "Especially not with him."

The pain I heard beneath his controlled exterior started to chip away at my resolve, and that pissed me off even more. I could feel my determination wavering, so I forced myself to sound flippant and careless, avoiding direct eye contact because I was terrified of what I might see there—afraid that seeing him hurt would melt my stubborn resolve completely.

*Damn this mate bond!*

"Please." His voice cracked slightly on the word. "Don't go."

When I finally looked up at him, I saw tears threatening to spill over. Something inside my chest cracked and broke apart.

*He's such a controlling drama king,* I thought desperately, even as Lyra wailed in my head: *"Don't leave him! Don't leave him!"*

But I couldn't give in. Not when there was still so much unresolved between us.

"I'm sorry," I said, forcing the words out even though they felt like they were killing me. "But I have to go."

Saying those words felt like a part of me died inside.

As I walked toward Daryl's car, I found myself silently praying that Ezra would say it again—just say "don't go" one more time, and I'd stay. Just one more plea, and I'd forget everything, forget about making a point, and run straight back to him.

But he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. He just stood there with his fists clenched.

Daryl opened the car door for me, and I slid into the passenger seat, feeling completely deflated by my own stubbornness and foolish expectations.

*Ezra and I really are a pair of dramatic disasters,* I thought miserably as we pulled away from the curb.