The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 112

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 112**

In the dim light of the stage, Celestine’s voice wavered, thick with emotion as tears shimmered in her silver-bright eyes, catching the light like diamonds.

“I never thought the one who would sink their fangs into my back would be a fan of all people,” she uttered, her voice cracking under the weight of betrayal, transforming her bitter words into a hollow laugh. “You pleaded with me to keep that recording safe for your… private enjoyment. I let my guard down. I agreed. And in return, you stole my work right from under me.”

With a determined lift of her chin, she surveyed the room, her gaze sweeping over the reporters who loomed like a pack of hungry wolves, eager to pounce on her vulnerability.

“That night, she laid bare her soul to me. Her family was crumbling, debts looming like dark clouds, threatening to swallow her whole. She wanted to claw her way out through the art of dance. I felt a pang of pity for her. I reached out to offer comfort. But I am bound by the oath I took as a dancer and choreographer under the Moon Goddess’s watchful gaze. I will not tolerate theft, not now, not ever. Today, I declare to all who bear witness: no matter how pitiful she appears, I will pursue the law of the Packs until the very end.”

Damon stood at the edge of the stage, his heart clenching as he observed the trembling lines of Celestine’s face. A sharp pang twisted within him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

If Dariusz were still alive, he thought grimly, he would never have allowed Celestine to endure such humiliation.

And yes—Damon had been neglecting her lately, his attention diverted by Aysel.

The realization soured his mood, and his wolf stirred restlessly within him, pacing with irritation and unease.

When he finally spoke, his voice boomed like thunder, reverberating through the hall:

“Move,” he commanded, his Alpha voice slicing through the air, heavy and commanding like the winds before a storm. “What do you want? To push her until she breaks?”

The fury of a long-reigning Alpha held immense power. The moment he unleashed his dominance, the reporters recoiled, some stumbling backward in their haste to escape his wrath. Even the onlookers and those watching the live stream felt the shift, swayed by the sight of Celestine’s tears and Damon’s fierce protectiveness.

Had they truly wronged Celestine Ward?

Countless inconsistencies lingered in the air—timings that didn’t align, choreographic changes that suspiciously mirrored the original—but wolves were creatures driven by emotion. And Celestine’s reputation had always been untarnished.

Her admirers were legion.

Witnessing their beloved goddess cornered, many felt a surge of protectiveness rise within them.

“Perhaps she was set up. ‘Windchaser’ is far too valuable. A struggling student seizing an opportunity… it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

“She has too many rivals. This could very well be sabotage.”

“Just say Julie’s name already.”

“It was Julie who suddenly seemed to have access to abundant resources. Maybe she found herself a powerful Alpha.”

“But Julie did dance better.”

“We’re losing focus here.”

Among the gathered crowd, whispers morphed into sharp blades, especially among those familiar with the Moonvale Pack’s dark family history.

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