The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 196

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 196**

In the dim light of the room, the atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension. Mganus’s claws had sharpened with each passing day, a reminder that any misstep could lead to dire consequences.

Bastien stood resolute, his gaze sharp and unwavering, a sentinel against the encroaching storm. One Magnus Sanchez, a figure as lethal as he was cunning, loomed larger than the combined efforts of generations of elders who had come before him.

The ancient wolves, once the arbiters of power and tradition, now found themselves at the mercy of a young Alpha’s whims. They had to navigate the unpredictable tides of ambition that surged within Magnus.

“Magnus,” Lucas began, his voice wrapped in a veneer of warmth, the kind that belied the underlying tension. A wolfish smile played at the corners of his mouth, a façade that barely concealed his true intentions. “Uncle Lucas has arrived with a proposal that I believe deserves your attention.”

Despite the complexities of Magnus’s relationship with Ivy, the Darkmoon Pack was committed to upholding a facade of venerable propriety. They were wolves of tradition, after all, and appearances mattered.

“I’ve heard whispers that you’ve recently thrown your hat into the ring for the project bids in Eastern City,” Lucas continued, his tone smooth as silk. “Given your interest, I believe this endeavor is too substantial for the Darkmoon Pack to shoulder alone. How would you feel about a joint venture between the Sanchez and Darkmoon Packs?”

The offer hung in the air, heavy with implications. If it weren’t for elder James’s political clout, Magnus might never have seized control. What Lucas presented was, at best, a favor wrapped in calculated intent.

The project shimmered like a forbidden fruit, alluring and tantalizing. Inviting Magnus was not merely an act of goodwill; it was a strategic maneuver to share the weight of the endeavor.

By intertwining their interests, alliances would naturally strengthen, and the balance of power would shift subtly yet profoundly.

Yet, taking down Magnus was no trivial pursuit; forging a semblance of camaraderie was the wiser path.

Unbeknownst to Magnus, Lucas was merely the messenger, carrying the weighty instructions of his elder brother. Magnus had become a master at raising political pawns, ensnaring rivals in traps that were invisible yet deadly. James sensed the encroaching threat, prompting Lucas to arrive with an enticing offer.

Even with such a tempting prize dangled before him, Magnus remained unyielding.

A slow, confident smile unfurled across his face, a reflection of his unwavering resolve.

“The Darkmoon Pack possesses the strength to manage this project without my interference. I have no desire to covet what resides in another wolf’s den, and I shall not intrude,” he declared, his voice steady and firm.

Lucas felt a flicker of uncertainty.

“Covet what lies in another wolf’s den?” he mused silently. Was Magnus referring to the project, or was he mocking the very essence of the Darkmoon Pack?

“Are you certain you won’t reconsider?” Lucas pressed, his determination unwavering despite the frostiness radiating from Magnus.

“I never regret the choices I make,” Magnus replied, his tone resolute, akin to a wolf firmly marking its territory.

Lucas scrutinized him, his lips forming a thin line of frustration before he finally stood.

If the Darkmoon Pack dared to lay claim to the Eastern City project, they would find themselves consuming it whole.

And when the inevitable explosion came, it would resonate like thunder across the land.

His cold, handsome reflection shimmered in the glass, a visage that would send shivers down the spine of any wolf who dared to observe him.

Just half an hour ago, he had been gentle and playful, teasing his distant little rose across continents. Now, he had transformed into the very incarnation of a predator—calm, calculating, and utterly merciless.

Jackson, in his quiet demeanor, set down Magnus’s coffee cup with a barely perceptible tremor. He retreated with the cautious silence of a wolf who had just caught a glimpse of the Alpha’s fangs.

Three days drifted by like the silent passage of winter winds, each moment heavy with anticipation.

At last, the day of the duel between Aysel and Andrea arrived.

The Wolf Dance Troupe gathered, nearly in full force, their eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. Who would emerge victorious—the razor-edged Oriental Rose or the poised Western Laurel?

Julia inhaled deeply, steadying herself as her tail brushed nervously against her boots, her ears pricked in anticipation. The palpable tension of witnessing two Alpha-caliber wolves clash for supremacy hung thick in the air, a charged atmosphere that promised to ignite at any moment.