The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 9

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 9**

**Aysel’s POV**

The atmosphere in the dining hall of the Moonvale Pack was thick with unspoken words, a palpable tension that clung to the air like the metallic taste of blood just before the thrill of a hunt. My family occupied their seats, each one rigid, their expressions carefully crafted masks of normalcy, but I could see through their façades. This confrontation was anything but ordinary.

I had always been the thorn in their side, the wolf that bristled at the slightest poke—a constant reminder of their failures. Every argument, every clash had ended with me retreating, teeth bared, leaving them in a state of disquiet. But today, I was determined not to step back.

Celestine, ever the peacemaker, was the first to break the silence, stepping forward as if to shield us all from the storm. “Aysel… I’m truly sorry. I speak for our family when I say this. The chaos tonight… it’s all because I was injured. Please, don’t blame my parents.”

A low growl of irritation rumbled in my throat, the sound almost involuntary. Celestine was too innocent, too fake, too weak for my tastes. Luna Evelyn, her mother, quickly interjected, diverting the blame elsewhere as if it were a game of hot potato. They all seemed to forget about me, as they always did. I scanned the room with my amber eyes, finally resting on Alpha Remus—my so-called father.

He cleared his throat, his voice gruff and commanding. “This was a misunderstanding, Aysel. Speak your mind—whatever you wish, I will provide it.”

I tilted my head, allowing the corner of my mouth to curl into a faint, dangerous smile. “Shares…” I elongated the word, letting it hang in the air like a predator’s paw poised over quivering prey. Instantly, the faces around me shifted, a ripple of unease spreading through the room. I savored the silence, letting it sharpen like claws ready to strike. “Even if I asked, you wouldn’t give them.”

I knew the truth all too well. Each heir of the Moonvale Pack was entitled to five percent of the Pack’s wealth upon reaching maturity. My portion had long been promised to Celestine, a debt they claimed I owed. Five percent—worthless compared to the life her mother had saved.

Remus’ eyes darkened, a flicker of unease betraying his calm demeanor as he absorbed my disdain. I pressed my advantage, feeling the thrill of the confrontation.

“And if you’re feeling guilty,” I said, my voice low and deliberate, “then transfer my grandmother’s house to me.”

The house wasn’t grand by Alpha standards, but it belonged to me by blood and memory. Its true value lay in the past, in the memories of a woman who had never demanded I yield to Celestine.

Remus avoided my gaze, his discomfort palpable. “We’ll discuss this after your coronation,” he replied, the slightest tremor in his voice revealing his uncertainty.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound laced with venom. “There will be no coronation. Damon Blackwood and I are finished. You told me I could ask for anything… yet not one of my requests will be honored. Is this how you apologize?”

His anger flared, and he slammed his massive, wolf-like fists onto the table. The impact reverberated through the room, sending hot steam from the dishes swirling like mist around us. “Your temper, Aysel! Coronations are not trivial! I will not allow it to be canceled. No house, no negotiation!”

Remus’ roar filled the hall, shaking the very walls. Luna Evelyn flailed in panic, while Fenrir glanced between Celestine and me, torn between the instinct to protect and the urge to unleash his fury. The servants stood frozen at the threshold, paralyzed with fear, unsure whether to intervene or remain silent.

I could see the anger, the shock, and the helplessness etched on their faces—and I felt nothing but grim satisfaction. They had ignored me, underestimated me, and now the truth of their underestimation cut through the room like teeth sinking into flesh.

As I crossed the threshold, I didn’t dare to look back. “The house of your grandmother…” Remus thundered, his voice echoing in the empty space behind me.

“I don’t want it,” I spat, my voice steady, though my chest heaved with exertion and my hands trembled slightly from adrenaline.

I wouldn’t touch anything Celestine had tainted—Damon would, and so would this house. Not if it became a weapon aimed at me. My grandmother’s gift was hers alone, and I would not allow it to bind me to their whims.

Each step I took was measured and deliberate, wolf-like, every stride echoing dominance and control. My back was straight, my head held high, though my eyes were wet and my claws trembled with the weight of my emotions.

I whispered to myself as I moved into the night, a vow as sharp as any fang: Aysel, don’t look back. Move forward.