The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 102

Third Person’s POV

Celestine smiled, saying nothing.

Across from her, the young she-wolf fell silent.

Celestine did not hurry her. She understood the instincts of wolves born to humble Pack lines—the hesitation, the awe, the quiet hunger. And the reward she was offering was more than enough to sway any ordinary wolf.

A she-wolf from a modest lineage always carried dreams far heavier than she could lift.

Which was why Celestine thought she had this in her claws—an easy win.

Instead, she was met with a firm and unexpected refusal.

The girl shook her head. “My family may not be wealthy, but we’re not starving either. This dance… it cost me blood and moon-hours. I finished it only two nights ago. I want to be the first one to perform it—and I won’t let anyone else take the name on it.”

She straightened her back, steady despite Celestine’s presence. “Thank you for the offer, but I refuse.”

Celestine’s smile froze, cracking at the edges.

“You’re sure? It’s only a dance. You can always create another.”

The girl’s stance remained unshaken. “A true piece of art can’t simply be recreated. This one matters to me.”

Celestine’s eyes chilled, the warmth fading like frost burned off by moonlight.

“You’ve thought this through?”

“I have.”

“Very well,” Celestine murmured. She dipped her head with soft grace, as though she were merely a courteous stranger who’d stumbled into another wolf’s training den. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

But the moment she turned away, her expression emptied—flat, cold, calculating.

…

When Celestine’s footsteps finally faded, the “simple-minded” girl immediately shed her harmless facade, shifting out of her dance garb and back into her usual clothes. She slipped out of the training hall and ducked into a shadowed corner just beyond the range of the den’s spirit wards and moonstone surveillance.

There, she dialed a number—voice bubbling with excitement.

“Sister-in-law! The fish bit the bait!”

She had nearly shaken apart while dancing, terrified she would ruin the entire setup.

On the other end came Aysel’s familiar, silvery laugh.

“Well done. Starting tomorrow, you don’t have to report to the Shadowbane estate anymore.”

Agnes—formerly just a dancer from a small pack—giggled. “And the reward Magnus promised me…?”

“Because wolves with a history always repeat it. A greedy, insecure, self-righteous wolf doesn’t change her nature.”

Celestine Ward proved her right almost instantly.

The next afternoon, Agnes called again—this time in pure fury.

“Holy Moon! Sister-in-law—Celestine is vicious! She tried to have me run over!”

She had never dealt with truly dark-hearted wolves before. This was her first taste of cruelty rooted in Pack hierarchies and unchecked ambition.

If not for Magnus’s wolves intercepting the hired driver and replacing him with one of their own to stage the scene, Agnes would have been finished.

Celestine hadn’t intended to kill—just injure her. Injure her enough to force her out of dancing for a while.

But injuries among dancers were unpredictable. One wrong twist, one wrong break of bone—and a lifetime of movement could be destroyed.

Clearly Celestine did not care.

Now Agnes lay in a hospital den, one leg wrapped so thickly it resembled a mummy’s limb, cursing nonstop.

To complete the lie, she would need to “recover” in bed for days.

And so the trap closed exactly where Aysel wanted it.