The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 116

**Chapter 116**

The old evidence might have been reduced to ashes, but in the grand scheme of things, it no longer held any significance.

Celestine’s act of stealing “Chasing the Wind” was now an undeniable truth, etched into the very fabric of the packs’ collective consciousness. As the reality emerged from the shadows, the wolves instinctively pieced together the fragments of the past, long buried and forgotten.

Her destiny had been irrevocably sealed.

Celestine would forever be remembered as a pariah, a figure of disgrace that cast a long shadow over the entire pack.

For every fleeting moment of glory she had once relished—protected by the Moonvale Pack’s embrace—this night served as a harbinger of double the vengeance.

And it was unyielding.

Julia’s gaze drifted toward Celestine, whose body had succumbed to the weight of despair as she yielded to the enforcers’ firm grasp.

This woman, once a formidable force against outsiders, had shown an even more vicious side to her own kin.

From their brief encounters, Julia had sensed that Aysel was no mere novice. Yet, she had never fathomed the depth of the girl’s tumultuous past.

As a fellow dancer, Julia understood all too well the significance of being chosen—especially at such a tender age—by someone as esteemed as Giovanna.

It was the kind of recognition that wolves would battle lifetimes to attain.

What a tragic waste it all was.

She watched as Celestine was led away, each step a reminder of the inevitable reckoning that had finally come to pass.

In the end, all debts—both good and evil—had to be settled. And Celestine’s moment of reckoning had arrived at last.

But the true victims of this unfolding drama, those who felt the sting of betrayal almost as acutely as Celestine herself, were the wolves of Moonvale. They had strutted into the night, brimming with confidence, believing that Celestine’s dazzling performance would help restore their faltering reputation.

Yet, they had barely tasted a moment of relief before everything came crashing down around them.

The instant it was revealed that the stolen choreography belonged to Giovanna’s niece, the elders of Moonvale found themselves utterly defenseless.

Even worse, their previous indulgences now painted them as accomplices to a thief’s transgressions.

Damon withdrew his hand from Celestine’s grasp the moment Giovanna finished recounting the painful truth.

The secrets he had either willingly or unknowingly helped conceal were now surfacing one by one, each revelation more damning than the last.

Standing beside Celestine felt like being the punchline of a cruel joke.

The crowd poured out of the theater, their appetites whetted for more.

Tonight’s performance had been nothing short of spectacular, but the gossip that followed was even more tantalizing.

Wolves filed out of the hall, unable to resist the primal urge to trail behind the enforcers as they escorted Celestine toward the open-air parking lot.

Even the most dignified among them moved with a barely concealed thrill, eager to witness the dramatic fall of a once-mighty figure.

The audience maintained a semblance of restraint, but the reporters were a different story altogether.

They swarmed like a hive of bees drawn to fresh blood, shoving microphones so close to Celestine’s lips that she could feel the cold metal against her skin.

“Miss Ward, aside from ‘Chasing the Wind’ and the choreography from the Moonvale trials, what else have you stolen?”

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