The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 193

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 193**

**Aysel’s POV**

As our conversation unfolded, I noticed a remarkable transformation in Sofia’s eyes. They sparkled with an intensity that seemed to grow with every word we exchanged, a bright flame igniting within her. Any trace of hesitation that had lingered moments before evaporated, replaced by an almost primal eagerness, as if she were a predator poised to spring at the first hint of movement. She was hungry for inspiration, eager to see what unique flair I could introduce to her artistic vision.

Julia, seated beside her, absorbed our dialogue with a fierce concentration that mirrored Sofia’s excitement. As the lead dancer in this ambitious production, Julia viewed powerful choreography not merely as an artistic expression but as a battleground—a place to assert her honor and prowess on an international scale. The weight of her first performance on such a grand stage was immense; it had to resonate deeply, to shake the very foundations of the audience’s expectations and leave an indelible mark on their memories.

I could sense her confidence swelling, akin to a wolf’s energy surging before a hunt, her spirit ready to unleash a captivating performance. Yet, in the midst of this burgeoning joy, I felt the undercurrent of resentment lurking nearby, a shadow that threatened to mar the bright atmosphere.

Suddenly, a tall woman with striking features, her golden hair cascading like a waterfall and ice-blue eyes piercing through the air, stepped forward. She scrutinized me with an intensity that felt almost predatory, as if I were a stray pup encroaching upon her well-established territory.

“So, this is the consultant you invited, Sofia?” she demanded, her voice laced with a sharp edge that cut through the excitement in the room.

The challenge in her tone was unmistakable. “I heard she hasn’t set foot on a stage in years. Can someone like her truly comprehend what an audience desires?”

I watched as Sofia’s expression shifted, the color draining from her face as embarrassment washed over her.

“Andrea, please don’t say that. You haven’t seen Aysel’s work. If you had, you would appreciate it,” she replied, her voice firm yet tinged with desperation.

Andrea, a seasoned choreographer with a reputation that preceded her, had once collaborated closely with Sofia. Now, she stood at the helm of the choreography team for this new venture, having crafted two of the three solo pieces for the lead. The tension between them was palpable, rooted in a history of collaboration that had soured. Sofia’s decision to bring in an outsider like me, whom Andrea viewed as a threat, had only deepened the rift between them.

Yet, to Andrea’s disappointment, I did not blush or stammer. I had anticipated this encounter the moment I accepted Sofia’s invitation. In any competitive field, stepping into a top-tier team as a newcomer meant bracing oneself for challenges. I could have wielded power or money to silence dissenters, but that would have undermined the collective effort of the team and diminished my own worth.

Moreover, I had learned that the wolves who snap at you upon first glance often hold the most valuable lessons. My emotions remained perfectly steady, calm as the surface of a moonlit lake, undisturbed by the chaos around me.

Turning to Andrea, who was so plainly trying to bait me into a reaction, I spoke with unwavering composure. “Whether I am capable or not, the stage will ultimately reveal the truth,” I stated evenly, my voice firm yet measured. “And if you are genuinely this dissatisfied, why don’t we make a wager?”

I gestured toward the bilingual script in my hands, stopping at the scene where the heroine and the second lead faced each other, their metaphorical claws bared. “Let’s each choreograph for one of them. Let the final performance speak for itself. If I lose, I will step back from the choreography team, just as you wish. But if you lose, you will owe me an apology for your prejudice. How does that sound?”

I knew that when someone insists on applying pressure, it’s often more effective to turn the tables and strike first.