The Betrayed Princess Rising Chapter 132

3rd Person's POV

Before Vargan could react, Ezra lunged.

The impact slammed the older wolf against the wall so hard the structure itself shuddered. A dull crack echoed through the penthouse as Vargan’s back hit the surface.

In the next second, he was pinned.

Ezra’s hand gripped the front of his collar while sharp claws pressed against the skin of Vargan’s throat. The Alpha had allowed them to lengthen, the dark talons resting directly over the pulse beneath Vargan’s jaw.

One slash.

That was all it would take to end him.

“You…” Vargan’s eyes widened.

But there was no anger in them. No fear.

Only shock.

“What are you doing?” he rasped. “Ezra, have you lost your mind?”

The man standing before him no longer looked entirely human.

This wasn’t Ezra.

It was his wolf.

Ragnar.

The beast rarely surfaced, but when it did, every wolf in Moonclaw felt their instincts tremble. Power radiated from him like a storm barely contained. Ezra's wolf was massive, with dark gray fur rippling along its form, the color of jagged mountain peaks under moonlight. His eyes glowed a fierce silver-blue—ancient, cold, and commanding.

Less like a wolf.

More like something carved from legend.

Ezra leaned closer, claws pressing just slightly deeper against Vargan’s throat.

“Don’t… you… dare…” his voice came out rough, every word dragged from somewhere primal. “Take… her… from… me.”

A chill crawled down Vargan’s spine.

Slowly, carefully, he swallowed.

Then he nodded.

“Don’t you ever dare mention it again,” Ezra growled.

“I won’t,” Vargan said immediately.

Only then did he dare breathe again.

“I’m not taking your Luna away,” he continued cautiously. “That was only a threat. I received reports that you’ve been withdrawing from everything lately. So I thought something might have gone wrong between you and Lylah… that it was affecting your behavior.”

For a moment, the claws remained where they were.

Then Ezra lifted them an inch from Vargan’s neck.

His eyes blinked once.

Twice.

The silver glow dimmed as the beast receded, his human consciousness slowly returning.

Finally, he stepped back.

Vargan let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well,” the elder wolf muttered, rubbing his throat, “now I understand why you never seemed capable of falling in love before.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Because, Selene above… you’re absolutely terrifying when you do.”

Ezra walked toward the counter, grabbing a bottle of wine.

He poured himself a glass, hoping the familiar burn would steady the restless power still humming in his veins.

“You threatened to take her away,” Ezra said coolly. “As if she wouldn’t be furious if she discovered you had faked your identity and pretended to be a wanderer just to get close to her. Lylah hates liars.”

“And what about you?” Vargan shot back immediately. “You told her you were blind! You think she won’t hate you the moment she finds out?”

Ezra shot him a sharp look. “I told you—that was for her own good.”

He silently hoped Vargan wouldn’t push the subject further.

Because he wasn’t entirely sure Ragnar would remain quiet a second time.

“You came all the way here just to make sure Lylah and I are fine?” Ezra asked after a moment. “Thank you. But you worried for nothing. Nothing is wrong between us— I won’t allow it to be.”

Vargan scoffed.

“Thanking me after nearly killing me,” he grumbled. “What a touching gratitude, son.”

Ezra shrugged lightly.

“Just don’t test me again, Grandpa. I don’t joke when it comes to her.”

The word made Vargan freeze.

His eyes widened slightly.

Ezra hadn’t called him that since he was a pup.

“You…” Vargan studied him carefully. “You really do love that woman.”

But instead of concern, warmth slowly spread through his chest.

“At least after all this time, you’ve finally found the one,” he said quietly. “For that, I’m grateful.”

Ezra nodded.

A flicker of guilt stirred inside him when he remembered how close he had come to losing control.

After his parents died while he was still a pup, Vargan had been the only family he had left. The old wolf had become everything—his guardian, mentor, teacher, and, in many ways, the father Ezra had lost.

Their relationship had never been easy. Both of them were stubborn, proud, and far too alike for their own good.

Yet beneath the endless arguments and the constant clash of egos, there had always been one quiet, unshakable truth between them.

No matter how fiercely they fought, they had always cared for each other.