The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 75

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 75**

Tension coursed through Luna Evelyn’s chest, a tempest barely held at bay. Celestine had already clarified the situation—there was nothing between her and Damon; tonight was merely a misunderstanding. Yet, who else could have orchestrated such a chaotic scene if not Aysel—the defiant daughter of Moonvale, whose resentment simmered beneath her skin like frostfire, ready to ignite at any moment?

And then there was Knox Draven, lurking in that dimly lit den. The mere thought that his presence could be a part of Aysel’s scheme sent a shiver down Evelyn’s spine. But how could she not consider it? The individuals in that room were her own flesh and blood—her daughter, Celestine, and her son, Lykos.

Lykos shared her fury, his emotions mirroring hers. For him, this night had spiraled into nothing short of a disaster.

First, Aysel had struck him in front of their guests, the sting of her blow still fresh on his cheek. He had remained in the den, nursing the bruise in silence, the weight of humiliation pressing down on him. Then, inexplicably, sleep had begun to creep in, heavy and insistent, as if some magical force sought to lull him into submission. Groggy and disoriented, he had stumbled into the inner room, collapsing onto the bed, the world around him fading into a blur.

Half-conscious, he had caught snippets of conversation—Damon’s deep voice mingling with Celestine’s soft tones in the adjoining room. Then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the air, and suddenly, a scream pierced the night, slicing through the rain like a knife. Jolted awake, Lykos rushed out, only to find Knox Draven pinning his sister Celestine against the couch, his hands rough and his scent tainted with an unsettling desire.

Fueled by instinct, Lykos lunged forward, yanking Knox away from Celestine. But the Ironhowl wolf twisted with surprising strength, overpowering him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Their struggle was fierce, a whirlwind of limbs and fury, and in their chaos, the window cracked open, just as the storm outside unleashed its full wrath. From the garden below, dozens of Pack eyes turned upward, witnessing the damning sight through the glass.

Now, standing before Luna Evelyn, Lykos seethed with rage, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Aysel dared to bring shame upon us all—me, my sister! Mother, you cannot possibly grant her the Moonveil bracelet tonight!”

Evelyn remained silent, but doubt flickered in her golden eyes. Perhaps… Aysel should at least kneel and offer an apology before receiving any blessing. The thought nagged at her, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The air grew sharp and tense. Jackson, Magnus’s enforcer, stepped forward, his patience wearing thin. “You’ve all had your chance to voice your opinions,” he stated coolly, rapping his knuckles against the open door. “Now, move.”

He had followed the rules of diplomacy; it was not his fault that the Moonvale wolves refused to yield. With a flick of his hand, a squad of Shadowbane sentinels surged forward, their movements precise and unyielding.

Around them, guests from distant packs crowded closer, each one vying for a word, a smile, a moment of favor from the Alpha who ruled over half the continent. The air surrounding Aysel shimmered with an intoxicating blend of power and moonlight; even the laughter of those nearby seemed to bend toward her, drawn to her magnetic presence.

Across the field, the Blackwood heir, Damon, watched from a distance. The firm grip of his parents on his arm was the only thing keeping him rooted to the spot. To offend Shadowbane was to invite ruin upon oneself. So, he stood there, silent and brooding, his chest aching as he observed the girl he had once walked beside, now radiant in the company of another wolf.

Mary, standing nearby, could not suppress the cruel smile that curled her lips. “Look at you, Damon Blackwood,” she taunted softly. “The mighty Eastern Alpha. And yet your little Moonvale rose was stolen right from under your nose. Did you really think you could bed your fiancée’s sister and still keep both? Coward. Pathetic.”

Damon turned, his eyes dark and stormy, embers of fury igniting within him. “Mary,” he growled, his voice low and filled with warning. “Don’t speak of what you don’t understand.”

But already, his wolf stirred within him, snarling against the leash of restraint—because every word she uttered tasted like bitter truth, and it burned, igniting a fire in his chest that he could not easily extinguish.