The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 431

Chapter 431

Seraphina Duskgrave’s greatest regret in life was not bearing a child for the Duskgrave bloodline.

Not because she lacked the strength, or the devotion, or the lineage.

But because the Moon Goddess had taken that ability from her-violently, and without mercy.

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Her expression darkened as the memory surfaced like ot under her flawless skin. If her child had survived that night, they would have been in their twenties now strong, beautiful, heir to everything.

But all of it had been stolen.

Stolen by that bastard, Lucien.

A flicker of raw hatred flared in her eyes. No one in the Backseat noticed, but the scent of her fury-bitter iron and scorched roses-was impossible for any wolf to miss.

It had been his mother who cursed her womb. His mother who, in a fit of defiance and dark magic, had caused her miscarriage and left her barren. And now that damned child had grown into the heir of Stormridge. The entire Duskgrave empire-every silver-marked crest, every blood-forged alliance-was in his hands.

Not hers. Not her future son’s.

And worst of all? There was nothing she could do about it.

She could only smile through her perfect teeth and watch as that cursed mutt inherited the world she had fought for.

Her knuckles whitened as her mind turned to another betrayal-one far more recent.

She had seen the message just three nights ago. A photo, forwarded by her mother-in-law, Matriarch Duskgrave, to her husband.

A girl.

Young. Delicate. The kind of soft-faced vixen old wolves thought could soothe broken dynasties.

And her husband’s reply?

“She’s promising. If Mother approves, I have no objection.”

Seraphina nearly shredded the phone with her claws.

They hadn’t even divorced her yet. And already, they were shopping for replacements. Disgust twisted her features.

No one-no girl, no matriarch, no cursed heir-was going to push her out of the Duskgrave estate. She had fought tooth and claw to become the Luna of Stormridge. She’d driven Lucien’s mother to madness, manipulated courts, buried secrets. No one would take that from her.

Not while she still drew breath.

Scarlett Vale, sitting beside her, felt the shift in Seraphina’s energy. The older woman had gone still-too still. Her eyes weren’t just distant; they were burning with something Scarlett couldn’t name.

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Chapter 431

She immediately stopped speaking.

Smart girl, Seraphina thought bitterly. But still so very naive.

The luxury car came to a smooth halt before the Moongrest Grand Hotel.

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Scarlett and Seraphina stepped out, both graceful, poise-expecting eyes to turn toward them. Expecting admiration. Deference.

Instead, the hotel staff barely blinked.

Guests hurried past. A few gave a quick glance. No one bowed. No one whispered in awe. The silence was deafening.

Scarlett’s practiced smile faltered for half a second. But she recovered quickly, adjusting the hem of her gown and tucking herself beside Seraphina once more.

Seraphina, however, was seething.

In Stormridge, she was a queen. Wherever she walked, wolves dropped their gazes and offered their throats. But here in Mooncrest? Nothing. Not even a growl of respect.

Of course, she didn’t know what had happened just an hour earlier.

That the entire venue had already been shaken by another she-wolf’s arrival-Riley Vale, daughter of the disgraced Ebonclaw Pack, whose emergence had left a trail of stunned whispers and bared throats in her wake.

Next to that storm, Seraphina and Scarlett were a quiet drizzle.

But Seraphina straightened her spine, adjusted her blood-red shawl, and stepped forward. Let them ignore her for now. Once she was inside, once they knew who she was, they would come crawling.

She had seen it happen a thousand times.

They approached the entrance-but stopped short.

A commotion at the door.

A tall male wolf in a tailored black suit stood just beyond the threshold, his sharp features twisted in irritation.

Ronan Duskcliff, Alpha of the southernmost Blackmaw Pack, heir to the Duskcliff name and Lucien’s long- standing rival.

The security captain stood firmly between him and the entrance. “Apologies, Alpha Ronan. Without a formal invitation, I cannot allow entry.”

The security officer, a seasoned beta with scars on his jaw, looked nervous but resolute. He’d already been. reprimanded for letting in unregistered guests once today. If he made the same mistake again-especially with someone from the Duskcliff family-he might not survive the week.

Ronan’s tone dropped, low and dangerous. “Name your price.”

The officer shook his head, sweat starting to form along his temples. “Sir, this isn’t about coin. It’s the rule of

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Chapter 431

the House.”

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With a growl, Ronan reached into his coat and pulled out a check. “One million credits,” he said, tossing it at the guard’s chest. “Now move.”

The man caught it instinctively, glanced down-and then crumpled it in his fist.

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