Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 7

Sybilla's POV

 

The SUV pulled away from Emerald Valley, my stepmother's anguished wails fading in the distance. I dabbed at my eyes, careful not to ruin my mascara with these strategic tears. Beside me, Isolde sat rigid, staring out the window with that insufferable stoic expression. She thought she was so strong, so above it all.

 

Little did she know how easily I could break that façade.

 

"I'm going to miss Kiran," I said softly, watching her reflection in the window. "Last night was... special."

 

Her jaw tightened—the only indication she'd heard me.

 

"He has this way of holding you after he cum," I continued, my voice innocent. "So tender. Don't you think? Oh wait—" I feigned embarrassment. "I forgot you two broke up before you could experience that part."

 

Isolde's knuckles whitened as she gripped the door handle. I suppressed a smile. So easy to wound her.

 

"You know what he told me?" I leaned closer, whispering. "That I taste sweeter than you ever did. That he could never fully let go with you because something was always... missing. You're too boring, Isolde. Just like your mother—a loser, destined to be abandoned."

 

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw her eyes change. I knew I'd found her weak spot—her mother.

 

"Shut up!" she roared, whipping around to face me, fingers curled into claws.

 

Before I could react, she lunged at me, hands going for my throat. I immediately screamed, my voice shrill and terrified.

 

"Help! Mr. Nathaniel! She's trying to kill me!" I cried out, deliberately making my voice sound panicked and desperate. "Please help me!"

 

Beta Nathaniel in the front seat turned instantly, his cold gaze locking onto Isolde, who was already half on top of me.

 

"Enough!" he bellowed. "Return to your seat immediately, Isolde Blackwood!"

 

Isolde froze, her eyes still flashing anger, but her body already retreating. She slowly released me, backing into her own seat, but her gaze was filled with undisguised hatred.

 

"She provoked me first," Isolde muttered.

 

I began to sob. "I was just saying how much I'd miss home... and she turned violent. I'm scared, Mr. Nathaniel."

 

Nathaniel's sharp gaze swept between us, clearly not believing my story, but he warned anyway: "One more incident like this, and you'll both be punished."

 

 

---

 

The first glimpse of Silver Moon Headquarters stole the breath from my lungs. It was a modern architectural masterpiece that made my father's mansion look like a roadside motel.

 

Sprawling across several acres, the main building rose like a gleaming silver monolith against the afternoon sky. At least fifter stories of polished glass and steel curved in a crescent shape, surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns dotted with vibrant flowers.

 

"Holy shit," I heard Isolde whisper.

 

I straightened my posture and checked my reflection in my compact mirror. First impressions meant everything, and I intended to make the best one.

 

A stern-faced woman in her fifties approached, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, her posture militarily straight.

 

"Welcome to Silver Moon Headquarters," she announced, her voice crisp and authoritative. "I am Greta Moris, chief administrator of the Moon Alliance Program. I'll be responsible for preparing you for your purpose here: to serve the warriors of Silver Moon Pack as companions, entertainers, and potential Luna candidates."

 

*Luna? Holy shit. That's worth fighting for.*

 

I cast a sidelong glance at Isolde. With her hostile attitude and complete lack of refinement, plus the little incident in the car, she'd never catch the eye of anyone important. I, on the other hand, had been preparing for an opportunity like this my entire life.

 

As we were shown around, I cataloged every detail, noting which girls might be competition and which seemed most influential.

 

When a girl approached Isolde, I immediately intercepted.

 

"I'm Sybilla," I said, flashing my most charming smile before Isolde could respond. "Isolde's sister. We're both from Emerald Valley. Maybe you can tell me something about this place? I'd love to hear."

 

The girl—Ash—looked between us, clearly sensing the tension.

 

"Actually, I was hoping to get to know her," she said carefully.

 

I linked my arm through Ash's. "Oh, you'll have plenty of time for that. But trust me, I'm much better company. Isolde's going through a nasty breakup—her boyfriend chose me instead. She's terribly bitter about it, even tried to attack me on the way here."

 

Ash's eyes widened slightly, and she couldn't help but glance warily at Isolde.

 

Isolde's face hardened, but before she could defend herself, a staff member called her name, directing her to her quarters.

 

---

 

After settling in, I decided to explore.

 

The corridors were quiet, most new arrivals still in their rooms. I moved silently, following the sound of voices until I reached what appeared to be a luxurious common area.

 

Inside, a striking blonde woman lounged on a velvet sofa, surrounded by three attentive Lycan warriors. Even from a distance, I could sense her power. Her beauty was undeniable—flawless skin, piercing eyes, and a body that even I envied. But it was her aura of authority that caught my attention.

 

This woman was important. Very important.

 

One of the warriors noticed me hovering in the doorway. "This area is restricted to new arrivals," he growled.

 

The blonde woman turned, her gaze assessing me with cool precision. "Wait," she said, her voice melodic yet commanding. "Let her approach."

 

I stepped forward, summoning every ounce of grace and confidence I possessed.

 

"I apologize for the intrusion," I said, lowering my eyes respectfully. "I was simply admiring the architecture and found myself here."

 

Her lips curved into an amused smile. "What's your name?"

 

"Sybilla, from Emerald Valley Pack," I replied, adding a small curtsy.

 

"Your father is Alaric, am I right?" She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

 

My heart leapt. She knew my father. "Yes. I'm his only daughter."

 

A calculating look crossed her face. "Interesting. I was under the impression he had another daughter. "

 

She meant Isolde.

 

"My stepsister," I clarified quickly. "We arrived together, but we're nothing alike. And she has a violent temper—she tried to attack me on our way here today."

 

The blonde woman patted the sofa beside her. "Sit, Sybilla Evans. I'm Evanthe Hawthorne, the PR Director."

 

My pulse quickened. This was the connection I needed.

 

"It's an honor, Ms. Hawthorne," I said, taking the offered seat.

 

"Call me Evanthe," she replied, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite identify. "Tell me more about yourself... and about this stepsister of yours."

 

*Why the fuck is everyone interested in Isolde?*

 

"I'd be happy to tell you everything," I said, leaning closer. "I've always believed in aligning myself with the right people."

 

Evanthe smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Smart girl. I think you and I are going to get along famously."

 

"I would be honored," I replied, hardly believing my luck.

 

Evanthe's smile widened. "Good. Follow my lead, and you'll go far here."