The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 121

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 121**

**Aysel’s POV**

**JT**

Celestine’s reputation lay in tatters, utterly destroyed—beyond any hope of restoration.

What I had inflicted upon her… it transcended mere retribution.

It was a decisive severing of her potential, a ruthless slicing away of her future.

My intention was clear: I wanted her to remain down, unable to claw her way back into any semblance of success, even if it meant turning to dance as an escape.

This was a complete and utter downfall, one that was not just temporary, but permanent.

Yes, it was a callous maneuver, but it was a necessary one.

Serena, who had taken on the role of my executor this time around, was clearly feeling the weight of the task.

In a world ruled by wolves, where power dynamics dictated every interaction, the degree of one’s actions was paramount—too light, and the target would stumble away; too heavy, and the repercussions could snap back, consuming the very one who dealt the blow.

As I observed her hesitation, I shrugged nonchalantly, my voice dripping with lazy confidence.

“If you’re hesitant about the job, I can always find someone else to do it.”

In truth, if the situation demanded it, I could easily reach out to Magnus. One simple phone call from him, with his status as the Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack, would open doors, lower heads, and make obstacles vanish like mist in the morning sun.

Yet, this matter was trivial.

Minuscule, even.

Allowing Serena to handle it would benefit us both—she would gain favor, and it would ensure that Magnus remained untouched by this affair—no traces of his involvement, no scent of interference for anyone to trace.

Serena grasped this concept perfectly.

For a few seconds, silence enveloped us, the instinct to negotiate—so typical of Ironhowl wolves—evaporating in an instant.

If Magnus were to intervene, Ironhowl would be left with nothing, not even the scraps that might fall from the table.

Against the might of Shadowbane, the entire pack would be fortunate to lick the dust off the bones.

“Relax,” she finally said, her voice laced with an audible grin. “I’ll make it exquisite for you.”

We exchanged a few more words before she reminded me of the time.

“18:03, Saturday, November 29.”

“Finished.”

“For the sake of our old patriarch, I’ll demand a hefty price. But Moonvale won’t want their losses to accumulate—they might attempt to address the root of the issue. Considering Aunt Agnes has ties to Magnus, Moonvale may very well come to you first, hoping for your forgiveness.”

A mosquito doesn’t bite hard,

but gods, it’s certainly irritating.

I stretched languidly, sitting upright on the bed, my wolf purring softly beneath my skin, a gentle reminder of my true nature.

“It’s perfectly fine. Let them come. I have my own things to convey to them as well.”

Serena snorted, her amusement evident. “Of course. Nothing for me to fret about on your end.”

Then her tone sharpened, laced with mischief.

“Also—waking up at this hour, ignoring my calls all night… Tell me, Aysel Vale, were you and a certain someone celebrating until dawn? Should you… be cautious with yourself, hmm?”

I didn’t even flinch at her teasing.

“Oh? So concerned about my nightlife because you lack one of your own?”

Serena, perpetually entangled in the Ironhowl succession struggles and still single, fell silent.

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