?Chapter 357:

Ryder’s POVfnc569 This content belongs to FιndNovel/fnc569

It waste, and I was sitting in my office, poring over documents that required my attention, though my mind was somewhere else entirely. Jasmine. My mate, my everything, pregnant with my child. It should have been a time of joy, but the weight of everything we had endured was impossible to ignore. Her pain, my mistakes—they haunted me.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Kade stepped in, his expression serious and unreadable.

“What is it?” I asked, already dreading the interruption.

“It’s Isabelle,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s asked to see you.”

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling sharply. Isabelle. The woman who had once been my closest ally, my confidant, and, for a time, my everything. She was also the woman who had betrayed Jasmine, who had let her bitterness and hatred drive her to endanger the one person who meant the world to me.

“She’s in the dungeon where she belongs,” I said coldly. “I don’t have time for her games.”

And sincerely, I didn’t think I did.

“She doesn’t seem to be ying games,” Kade said, his brows furrowing. “She ims she wants to apologize. To Jasmine.”

I froze at that, my jaw tightening. Isabelle apologizing? It didn’t make sense. The Isabelle I knew—thought I knew—was far too proud, too stubborn to admit she was wrong. But then again, maybe I hadn’t known her at all. Not the way I believed. These past days, she had still looked as bitter as ever.

Kade must have seen the conflict on my face because he added, “It’s your call, Alpha. But if there’s a chance she’s being genuine…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

I stood, pushing my chair back. “Fine. I’ll go.”

The walk to the dungeons was short, but it felt longer with every step. Memories of Isabelle—our past, our mistakes, her betrayal—yed on a loop in my mind. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find when I walked in there. But whatever it was, it wasn’t the woman sitting on that cold stone bench, looking smaller and more broken than I had ever seen her.

The guards opened the door, and I stepped inside. Isabelle didn’t look at me right away. She sat there, her arms wrapped around herself, her head bowed as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to her.

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“Isabelle,” I said, my voice cold and detached. “You wanted to see me?”

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine. They were tired, hollow, but there was something else there too—something I couldn’t quite ce.

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “I need to talk to you.”

I crossed my arms, keeping my distance. “If you’re about to justify what you did—”

“I’m not,” she interrupted, standing. The chains around her wrists clinked, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “I’m not here to justify anything. I’m here to apologize.”

That caught me off guard. Isabelle didn’t apologize. She demanded, she fought, she manipted—but she didn’t admit fault.

“Apologize?” I repeated, the skepticism clear in my voice.

She nodded, stepping closer. Her movements were hesitant, careful, as though she were testing the waters.

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