The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 12

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 12**

**Aysel’s POV**

As the enforcers finally departed, an eerie stillness enveloped the remnants of what once was. The air was thick, heavy with the lingering scent of smoke and ash—my fire, my sin.

One of the female officers, her brow furrowed with concern, approached me. “I can escort you to a nearby inn if you’d like,” she offered gently, her voice laced with worry that I might crumble under the weight of it all.

I managed a faint smile, a mere shadow of my usual self, and politely declined. “I think I need to be alone,” I replied softly.

And truly, I did.

For beings like me—cursed, tainted, unloved—solitude was often the only companion that wouldn’t betray me.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, gazing at the ashes of my grandparents’ house. Once a vibrant home filled with laughter and warmth, it was now reduced to a skeletal frame, devoured by the flames I had ignited with my own hands. The acrid scent of charred wood and faded memories hung heavily in the air, mingling with the bittersweet taste of vengeance that had finally been quenched.

When I finally turned to leave, a sudden shift in the night wind made me freeze.

Blood.

And something darker—rogue wolves.

Their scent clawed through the air, raw and metallic, a sickening reminder of death and insatiable hunger. I almost brushed it off; it wasn’t my concern. After all, rogues tearing each other apart was as common as rain in this forsaken world.

But then, a second scent sliced through the chaos—familiar and unsettling.

The enigmatic Alpha who had once saved me when no one else dared to intervene.

Damn it.

I owed him.

My wolf, Mia, stirred restlessly within me, a reminder of the debt I couldn’t ignore. He had come to our aid once, and before I could second-guess myself, I was already moving—swift and silent—following the trail of blood and fury into the forest that lay beyond the ashes.

Moonlight spilled across the clearing when I finally found him.

He was in his wolf form, a massive gray beast, his fur matted with blood—a sight that sent a chill down my spine. Ten rogues circled him like vultures, snarling, their eyes glowing with a feral madness that sent a jolt of fear through me.

He was still fighting, but his movements were sluggish, each strike growing heavier as if the weight of the world pressed down upon him.

If I hesitated for even a heartbeat longer, he would be torn apart.

A snarl erupted from my throat before I could even comprehend it.

The rogues turned toward me, their attention shifting.

Big mistake.

I let go.

I unleashed Mia.

Bones cracked, skin burned.

In an instant, I was no longer human—Mia surged forth, my white wolf bursting into the moonlight like vengeance incarnate.

The rogues lunged at me, and I met them head-on.

The night exploded into chaos, a cacophony of growls and screams.

One rogue fell, his throat torn out in an instant. The second attempted to flee, but I was quicker—I sank my teeth into his hind leg before snapping his neck with a swift motion. Then came the third, the fourth…

The final rogue, the largest, managed to scratch my shoulder, but I swiftly pinned him beneath my paw, ending it cleanly.

Silence returned, broken only by my ragged breathing and the faint crackle of dying embers in the distance.

The man lay collapsed, his gray fur soaked in crimson.

Slowly, painfully, he shifted back—bones cracking as they returned to their rightful places—until he lay naked among the grass, his breath shallow yet steady.

I exhaled deeply and shifted back as well, biting back a groan as my body rearranged itself, the cold air hitting my bare skin like a sudden slap.

Damn, I had forgotten how much I despised this part.

I quickly grabbed my hoodie and shorts, tugging them on with haste before glancing back—and nearly forgot to breathe.

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