The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 63

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 63**

**Aysel’s POV**

The evening banquet unfolded beneath the vast, open sky, nestled in the enchanting back gardens of the Moonvale estate. Silver lanterns danced gently in the breeze, resembling moons caught in a delicate web of branches, casting ethereal light upon the gathering. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of night-blooming flowers, mingling with the musk of wolves clad in their finest attire, creating an atmosphere that was both magical and charged with tension.

As I emerged from the shadows, I wore a gown of white silk that flowed around me like the very essence of moonlight itself. Each step I took through the blossoms seemed to draw every pair of eyes toward me, their gazes a mix of awe and disbelief. The whispers began to ripple through the crowd, a chorus of hushed tones that spoke of my return. Even without the release of my Alpha scent, I could feel the stir of energy that accompanied my presence.

My mother, Luna Evelyn, stood amidst the throng, her smile far too easy and her eyes glistening with tears that she had no right to shed.

“My daughter,” she murmured to those gathered around her, her voice laced with a pride that felt misplaced. “She’s every bit the moon’s chosen child.”

None of them could ever hope to rival the beauty of the daughter they had so callously cast aside.

But of course, she was oblivious to that truth. To her, my presence tonight must have signified forgiveness, a reconciliation long overdue. She had conveniently forgotten how she and Alpha Remus had once conspired to strip me of my title, forcing me from the heart of the Pack.

Suddenly, Remus’s voice sliced through the murmurs, sharp and commanding.

“Since you’re here, come inside. The guests have waited long enough.”

His gaze roamed down my gown, a silent assessment as if to ensure I remembered the decorum befitting a Pack heir. I met his scrutiny with a smile—slow, deliberate, and sweet.

“Wait.”

With that single word, I halted their advance, a wave of confusion rippling through the air. Before anyone could react, my hand shot out, swift and decisive.

The sound of my palm connecting with flesh echoed through the garden like the crack of a whip.

Lykos staggered back, shock etched across his features, one side of his face blooming with crimson.

“Aysel!” he snarled, baring his teeth in a display of fury. “You—how dare you strike me?”

I lowered my voice, letting it drop to a cold, low tone that carried the weight of my lineage.

“Because you are insolent, arrogant, and foolish.”

He blinked, momentarily stunned that I dared to address him with the authority of an Alpha. His claws twitched at his sides, but before he could retaliate, Fenrir stepped between us, his glare fierce and protective.

“Not here,” he growled softly, a warning laced in his tone. “She’s the guest of honor tonight.”

I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. Guest of honor. The hypocrisy burned within me like molten silver.

They hurriedly ushered my brother away, his face still marked by the imprint of my hand. The faint scent of his blood hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the fragile illusions the Moonvale wolves had built around me.

I had not returned home to forgive them.

I had come to collect a debt.

Remus’s voice turned sharp, slicing through the tension like a knife.

“You’ve had your say. You’ve drawn blood. Now leave.”

But I stood my ground, meeting his Alpha glare with unwavering determination.

“Where’s the bracelet?”

“Ah, so Alpha Damon is claiming her.”

Their voices faded into the background, but one remained silent—Knox Draven, the outcast of Ironhowl. I caught sight of him lifting a goblet, downing its contents in one swift motion before he turned away into the shadows.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. So he still lingered, still watching, still waiting for my downfall.

Then, as if summoned by my thoughts, his scent washed over me—the one that had once represented home.

Damon stood among the guests, his golden eyes locked onto me with an intensity that bordered on awe. I could feel his heart stumble, could almost taste the hope radiating from him. He stepped forward, reaching out for my hand.

“Aysel…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of longing and trepidation.

I sidestepped, his fingers brushing only against the air where I had just been.

From the moment he had conspired with my family to ensnare me in this so-called “union,” the image of him that once filled my heart had shattered beyond repair. Love could never blossom from coercion or betrayal.

Damon’s smile faltered, but he quickly masked his disappointment, ever the composed Alpha.

He believed time would mend the rift between us.

He thought I would forget the past.

He was gravely mistaken.

The moon above us flared silver-white, illuminating the garden and stirring my wolf within, whispering in a voice that only I could hear:

“They took your home. Tonight, you take it back.”