The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 21

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 21**

In the stillness of the night, a storm of chaos began to brew, yet before any plans could take shape, an unexpected revelation shattered the calm: Celestine had been brutally beaten and was now confined to a hospital bed.

Aysel clutched her phone tightly, the dim light casting shadows across her face, as a low, victorious chuckle bubbled up from her chest. It resonated within her for what felt like an eternity, a sweet sound that echoed her triumph. She had learned that Celestine’s performance as the lead dancer had been thoroughly disrupted, leaving her vulnerable and incapacitated.

Seizing this golden opportunity, Aysel wasted no time in reaching out to the rival dance troupe, pouring her resources into ensuring Celestine’s competition flourished without her. It was a calculated move, one that she had been waiting for, and now the pieces were falling into place.

During Celestine’s forced recuperation, Aysel felt as though the world was her oyster. Every chance to influence or gain an advantage was ripe for the picking. She even made a visit to the hospital, her presence lingering in the air like the scent of a predator prowling through its territory, leaving Celestine seething with rage and trembling with frustration.

In the days that followed this tumultuous event, Aysel and Magnus settled into a rhythm of measured domesticity, their lives intertwined in a delicate balance. Fenrir had announced his intention to confront Aysel, yet he returned to the Vale household with a vacant stare, his lips sealed tight, mumbling nothing to Alpha Remus or Luna Evelyn. It was as if the weight of the world pressed down on him, leaving him unable to voice the punishment that loomed in the air. The Vale family retreated into a cocoon of isolation, their phones confiscated for three long days, creating an eerie stillness that hung heavily in the atmosphere.

What gnawed at Celestine more than the oppressive silence was the subtle but palpable shift in the Vale family’s demeanor. Even Alpha Remus and Luna Evelyn, still reeling from their anger, began to sense the simmering fire in Aysel’s reactions. The old couple realized that if this continued, the daughter they had long sought to control would slip further from their grasp. Aysel was no longer a child; she was of age now—whether as the Vale’s daughter or the future Luna of Damon, it was time for her to step into the light of public scrutiny.

For years, Aysel had shied away from the spotlight. Most people only whispered about the rebellious reputation of the Vale’s second daughter, unaware of her true essence, her wolf lurking beneath the surface, and the strength she possessed. Many didn’t even know that there was a second daughter beyond Celestine, a fact that felt intolerable to her.

From her hidden vantage point, Celestine listened intently, her heart pounding as she overheard Fenrir and Alpha Remus quietly orchestrating a delayed birthday celebration for Aysel—a ruse to introduce the youngest Vale daughter to society.

Curled up with her fists clenched tightly around her blanket, Celestine could only growl in frustration at the sheer unfairness of it all. Aysel’s birthday fell on the same day as the memorial for Yuna Ward; she had not celebrated since she was six years old. Traditionally, the birthday festivities were reserved for the Vale sons and Celestine herself. But this year, the event was scheduled for three days after the memorial, a symbolic echo that felt like a dagger to Celestine’s heart.

Imagining Aysel’s face—radiant and unyielding despite years of suppression—filled Celestine with a burning jealousy. Her mother’s life had been the price paid to reach this day, yet Aysel, the instigator of so many grievances, seemed to thrive against all odds. Celestine’s lips curled into a twisted smile as she gazed at her reflection on her phone screen: “Blood ties can’t be severed? Then let me be the one to end it. Aysel Vale, I will give you a birthday you will never forget.”

Yet, as Aysel prepared to return home, it felt akin to stepping into a den of predators. She responded to Skylar with patience, her heart warmed by the concern of her friend. Once the call ended, she stepped into the empty living room, only to find Magnus absent once again.

His recovery had nearly restored him to his former self; his body had become a weapon, honed and tempered by discipline. Although he had yet to reveal his complete plans or step into the public eye, his absence was deliberate, a strategic move in a world that reeked of both opportunity and danger. Aysel understood the type of Magnus she served and protected—the son of Ulric Sanchez, heir to legacies unseen and power unspoken.

Even the turbulence surrounding the Sanchez family reached her senses: kidnappings, car accidents, tax scandals—all intertwined with bitter internal power struggles. Magnus’s disappearance had allowed ambitious wolves to rise from the shadows, their claws and fangs bared. The old Alpha Bastien Sanchez had suffered multiple emergency hospital visits due to the stress, while the family’s children fought viciously over the inheritance that seemed to slip through their fingers.

None of this chaos touched Aysel directly. She submitted her latest artwork to the editors, sinking into the comfort of the sofa, and sent Magnus a simple, yet hopeful message: “Dinner at home tonight?”

In a stark contrast, in a blood-soaked underground chamber, Magnus’s fourth uncle Conor lay sprawled on the cold floor, a gruesome mixture of blood and urine mingling beneath him, limbs splayed out like a lifeless corpse. The air was thick with the scent of fear and pain. Just three meters away, Conor’s son Caleb, blindfolded and trembling, howled and whimpered, the raw terror of a young wolf ensnared in the jaws of fate echoing through the den.