All Chapters of Claimed By The Lycan King: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Christian's fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm as we lounged in bed, the television's blue glow casting soft shadows across our bedroom. It had been the first peaceful evening we'd had in weeks—Theo awake and recovering, the immediate crisis cooling, the palace settling into a cautious rhythm of optimism. I nestled against Christian's chest, inhaling his sandalwood and amber scent, letting myself believe that perhaps the worst was behind us. Sierra purred contentedly in my mind, her presence warm and drowsy with the simple pleasure of being close to her mate. How foolish we were, thinking we'd weathered the storm, when in reality, we'd only experienced its earliest winds."What are you smiling about?" Christian asked, his voice a soft rumble beneath my ear."Just enjoying the quiet," I replied, tracing my finger along the seam of his t-shirt. "It feels like forever since we've had a normal evening."He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Define normal.

I balanced the lunch tray against my hip as I keyed in our suite's door code, juggling a stack of security reports under my arm. The past week had been a special kind of hell—watching Lola crumble under the weight of accusations that grew more outlandish by the day while I scrambled to put out fires that seemed to multiply faster than I could douse them. Today's media briefing had been particularly brutal, with three more "witnesses" emerging to claim they'd seen Lola near the cottage the day of the explosion. The fact that each of their stories contradicted the others didn't seem to matter to the press. Leon growled in my mind as I pushed open the door, his protective instincts raw and frayed after days of feeling our mate's pain without being able to shield her from it."Lola?" I called, stepping into our quiet suite. The living area was exactly as I'd left it three hours ago—the sofa pillows still dented from where she'd been curled up reading, her half-empty tea mug sti

I cradled the warm mug between my palms, breathing in the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee as morning light spilled through the dining room windows. For the first time in weeks, the knot of tension between my shoulder blades had begun to loosen. Theo sat beside me, his movements still careful but gaining strength daily, while Christian and Lola occupied the chairs across from us. We'd fallen into an easy rhythm of breakfast conversation—kingdom matters interspersed with gentle teasing and shared plans—the simple normalcy of it a balm after so many weeks of crisis. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this safe, this certain that the worst was behind us. I should have known better."You're quiet this morning," Theo observed, his fingers gently brushing mine as he reached for the jam. His touch still sent a current through me, even after all we'd been through. Perhaps because of it."Just enjoying the moment," I replied, smiling as I watched him spread a gen

I stared down at my untouched salad, pushing a cherry tomato around the bowl with my fork as Christian reviewed security reports across the table. The small family dining room felt like a sanctuary after weeks of avoiding public spaces, its warm wood paneling and soft natural light a welcome change from the four walls of our suite that had become both haven and prison. Sierra dozed contentedly in my mind, lulled by the relative peace of the past few days since my name had been officially cleared. The accusations had been retracted, but their echo lingered in sideways glances from staff and the occasional whispered conversation that stopped when I entered a room. I was innocent—officially, legally innocent—but the shadow remained."You should eat something," Christian murmured without looking up from his tablet, somehow sensing my distraction despite his focus on the reports. "You barely touched breakfast."I speared the tomato, watching juice bleed across white por

My parents exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them that I recognised from countless dinner parties and social functions—the look that meant they were recalculating, adjusting their strategy."We won't speak to you," my father said finally, his tone dismissive. "If the King wishes to question us, he may do so directly."Beside me, Theo stiffened. "Arrogant bastard," he muttered.Simpson's expression remained impassive. "Very well." He rose, exiting the room briefly before returning with a formal document bearing the royal seal. "By direct order of King Theodore Lykoudis, you are commanded to answer all questions truthfully regarding your involvement with Benjamin Thorne, Caleb Jones, and the assassination attempt against the Crown."The royal command changed something in the room's atmosphere. Even my parents, with all their disdain for authority that didn't benefit them, couldn't ignore a direct order from the King.