The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 155

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 155**

In the heart of the den, Aysel stood as a formidable figure, a wolf whose very presence could make even the most seasoned Alphas hesitate. She was not just any wolf; she was a force of nature, capable of commanding respect and awe. If she were to step into the territory of another pack as a mate, it would feel as though the very heavens themselves bowed in reverence. Today, however, Bastien had chosen to challenge her, testing the sharpness of her fangs in a way that felt almost reckless.

Around them, the air was thick with tension, palpable enough to be felt like a heavy weight pressing down on the young wolves and heirs gathered in the den. The gaze of the pack felt like iron collars around their necks, suffocating and binding. Dennis and Bastien were not wolves to be trifled with lightly; their reputation loomed large. Yet, facing them were Magnus and Aysel—one exuding an angelic beauty, the other radiating a predatory essence that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to look too closely. The atmosphere was electric, hearts racing, tails stiff with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Who could say whether the next misstep would land them in the infirmary, like Rudi and Noah before them?

The danger of lying within this den was ever-present, a truth that could be sniffed out in an instant. Just as the tension reached a breaking point, the boldest of the young wolves, her straight-cut bangs framing a determined face, stepped forward. Her spine was straight, and her voice rang out with unwavering conviction. “I heard Noah insult Alpha Magnus. His words were cruel. And yes—he touched Aysel.”

A collective gasp swept through the hall, a ripple of shock that coursed through the gathered wolves. Even the slightest brush of a claw against fur could not diminish the weight of her declaration. The Alpha had arrived, and her words were laced with undeniable truth.

One by one, the other young wolves began to echo her sentiments, their voices rising in a chorus of confirmation that vibrated through the tense air of the den.

“Noah was fierce in his attitude,” one admitted, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of the truth.

“The pond? He leapt of his own accord,” another chimed in, though it was Aysel’s hound that had urged him towards that reckless decision.

“We wanted to save him, but Miss Vale was already descending,” a third whispered, her tone heavy with guilt and regret.

“Miss Vale did have them pulled out,” another young wolf confessed, eyes cast down, though it was clear that barely a breath later, they had been thrust back into danger.

“She never meant for them to die,” one finally spoke up, her words tinged with a mix of awe and fear that clung to the air like a thick fog.

If it hadn’t been for the splintered bodies and water-soaked fur of Rudi and Noah, the gathered wolves might have easily believed the unwavering testimonies of their peers.

The young wolves, their tails tucked between their legs but ears perked up, regarded the adults with wary eyes. Youth may lack strength, but their senses were sharper, their instincts keener.

Bastien’s expression hardened, the lines of authority etched deep into his features. “Then we shall wait until Rudi and Noah awaken. Let the direct witnesses speak.”

Before the tense stillness could snap like a taut string, a calm, commanding male voice cut through the den, drawing all attention. At the doorway stood a tall, clean-featured wolf, adjusting his spectacles with a deliberate motion, an air of confidence surrounding him.

“I can confirm their testimony,” Alfie Sanchez declared, his voice smooth and authoritative, carrying the weight of an unaligned pack. His amber eyes flicked briefly to Dennis, a knowing glint in their depths. “It was indeed an act of courage.”

The hall fell into a stunned silence. Alfie, new to the ancestral estate, bore no grudges or entanglements with either side. His words were untainted, pure, and they resonated with an undeniable gravity.

Dennis clenched his fists, a growl simmering deep in his throat. Five branches of the Sanchez bloodline—how had this young wolf stirred such turmoil?