The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 117

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 117**

**Third Person’s POV**

The very same declaration that Celestine had once flaunted with pride now echoed back to her, word for word, as if the universe had conspired to bring it full circle.

A raw, primal howl erupted from deep within Celestine’s chest, a sound so visceral it seemed to shatter the stillness of the parking lot.

Time itself appeared to pause.

Reporters, caught mid-stride, halted in their tracks, eyes wide with shock.

Nearby, a few wolves exchanged glances laced with unease.

Was it possible? Had she truly gone feral?

During this moment of stunned silence, Agnes—her leg wrapped but her spirit unyielding—raised her phone with a practiced ease, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she began to capture the unfolding scene.

From her vantage point, she could see Aysel, sitting gracefully by the window, exuding an effortless elegance. But it was what lay deeper within the shadows that truly caught her attention—Magnus Sanchez.

Even in the dim light, with only their jawlines illuminated—one soft and inviting like moonlit mist, the other sharp and defined like a dagger—they appeared almost otherworldly, as if they were not of this realm.

As if sensing her gaze, both wolves turned toward her simultaneously, their expressions shifting from casual to alert.

God-tier faces followed by more god-tier faces.

Agnes’s heart raced, pounding against her ribcage like a wild drum. Instinct took over, and she snapped pictures with fervor.

The streetlamp cast a golden glow, the shadows danced around them, and the atmosphere buzzed with an electric tension—everything was perfect.

Except…

She cast her gaze back to Celestine, who remained crumpled on the ground, tears streaming down her face, her breath hitching as snot blurred her features. The once-pristine fabric of her dance attire lay in tatters, a stark reminder of her fall from grace.

On one side, she resembled a trembling white flower, wilting in the dirt.

On the other, a luxury car concealed two dangerously beautiful conspirators wrapped in silks and shadows.

The juxtaposition was almost too poetic to bear.

It felt wildly inappropriate, yet the scene before her mirrored that of a killer returning to the site of her own crime, surveying the remnants of her handiwork.

No wonder they were siblings; Aysel Vale’s brother and sister-in-law exuded the unmistakable aura of cultivated villains.

Agnes smiled, a mysterious glint in her eyes.

“You don’t quite get it, do you? If I were just snapping pictures of Magnus alone, I might as well be asking for trouble. But capturing the couple? Now that’s something special. Those photos could become treasures in their own right.”

In truth, even the most seasoned photographers would struggle to match the framing she had achieved. After all, she was destined to become a star.

Magnus—despite his denials—had been inseparable from Aysel lately, shadowing her every move while secretly honing his dance skills at the Moonvale estate. Agnes had witnessed firsthand how the Alpha had transformed, clearing rooms, cooking meals, making beds, and even blow-drying Aysel’s hair. It was clear to her how easily men fell when love was involved.

Even if they both denied it vehemently, Agnes’s years of unrequited affection had taught her to recognize the signs: these two were undeniably on a path toward a fated bond.

Julia’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding.

If she worked harder and danced exceptionally well, perhaps Aysel would grace the theatre with her presence more often. And if Aysel came more frequently, the investments from the Shadowbane Pack would surely rise.

The two women exchanged a knowing glance, their shared ambition igniting a spark of hope between them.

As the sirens of a police cruiser faded into the distance, the sleek black Maybach followed suit, vanishing into the night like a phantom predator.

The fallout from the scandal still had time to brew. By dawn, those caught in its web would realize that the nightmare awaiting them extended far beyond the events of this single night.