Fated To Three, Betrayed By All… Until She Rose novel Chapter 97

**Chapter 97**

**Aysel’s POV**

Magnus’s expression remained a mask of stoicism as he addressed Rudi.

“Bad temper keeps you from being bullied, little aunt. Don’t you agree?”

His eyes—those piercing, obsidian orbs reminiscent of a Rafe wolf—sliced through the atmosphere with the chilling precision of winter steel.

Even I felt the weight of that gaze pressing down upon me, a palpable force that could freeze the air itself.

Rudi visibly recoiled, a shiver running through her as if she were caught in a sudden gust of icy wind.

A flicker of old memories danced across her features, the kind that a wolf desperately tries to suppress, buried deep beneath layers of pride and defiance.

Was Magnus alluding to something buried in the past?

It seemed likely, given the way Rudi’s demeanor shifted.

With an irritated huff, she abandoned her elder’s stance, her dignity crumbling as she stormed off, her footsteps echoing with frustration.

I watched her retreat, my own tail nearly tucked between my legs in response to the tension in the air.

If even Bastien Sanchez’s most cherished daughter couldn’t wield her influence over me, the onlookers surrounding us certainly took notice, their eyes widening in silent acknowledgment.

Magnus’s fingers curled around mine, a firm yet reassuring grip that guided me forward, anchoring me in the moment.

As we passed Celestine, I tilted my head toward her, allowing my voice to drop to a soft, lethal whisper.

“Celestine… do you know why a wolf becomes unbreakable when she desires nothing?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, wide with surprise.

But I was already smiling, a secretive grin playing on my lips as I turned away, leaving her to ponder my words.

Beneath my heel, her bright red invitation to perform lay crushed, smudged, and filthy—much like her insidious schemes.

Once upon a time, I had only suspicions swirling in the shadows of the Moonvale Pack, quiet guesses about Celestine and my grandmother, whispers that danced just out of reach.

But after her admission in the graveyard, did she truly believe I would ever grant her mercy again?

If anything, I owed her gratitude.

Thank you for pushing me, step by relentless step, until every pillar of my existence crumbled—my parents, my brothers, my mate, my dreams—all reduced to ashes.

Every loss I endured because of her had chipped away at the softness within me, leaving only bone and instinct in their wake.

No longer would I cling to the hope of affection.

No longer would I tiptoe around Damon’s misplaced guilt regarding Dariusz and the Wards.

No more would I carry the weight of a death that had been unjustly attributed to me for over a decade.

If I desired nothing, what chains could they possibly use to bind me again?

A touring performance?

So be it.

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