The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 127

Chapter 127

Third Person’s POV

The butler swallowed the reprimand that had almost slipped from his lips, slapping himself silently for overstepping. Focus, or the sharp teeth of pack politics will bite.

you.

At last, Magnus led Aysel slowly through the grand hall. Her eyes, wide and gleaming with a quiet ferocity, betrayed the poised composure of a silent flower, yet every fiber of her being shimmered with readiness-always alert, always predatory.

Bastien felt his eyelids twitch violently. How has Magnus brought this she-wolf back here again? Family disgrace was best left behind the forest’s walls, but Magnus would not heed him. With a snort, Bastien’s fury returned to the older couple before him, a pair of humans who now seemed as fragile as fledgling pups.

“Once you leave the den, you never come back. If you have any pride, leave now!” Bastien barked.

The man before him, forehead still bearing faint bruises from past skirmishes, cast a helpless glance at his father. “Dad… you’re ancient yet still impulsive. The sight makes the rest of us seem foolish.” He paused, eyes flicking to Magnus. “Is this… Second Brother’s Magnus? He’s grown…” Then, uncertainly, he looked at Aysel. “And… this one?”

Magnus’s arm looped possessively around Aysel’s waist. “Aysel Vale. My mate.”

The air in the Sanchez stronghold thickened. Expressions of surprise and calculation rippled through the pack, subtle shifts in posture signaling ancient, unbroken instincts.

Lyall Sanchez, ever the romanticized fool of old tales, remained oblivious, offering polite nods. “Ah, yes. Today came unexpectedly, and I have no gifts ready for your meet, but we will host a proper feast another night.”

Magnus offered a shadow of a smile, silent.

Aysel’s role today was clear: the demure, silent mate-a wolf trained in restraint, yet with fire

under the fur.

As Lyall fumbled, a woman at his side, head bowed until now, stepped forward and grasped his hand. “Let it go. Let’s return,” she urged.

Lyall shook his head firmly. “No. We cannot leave.” He turned to Bastien, his voice edged with desperate obedience. “Father, years have passed. Even your temper must yield now. This is life and death for Johanna-help her, I beg you.”

1/3

Bastien’s eyes narrowed, sharp as frost. “Each wolf walks its chosen path. She who embraced this life must follow it to the end.”

Yet Johanna, calm under the elder’s biting words, showed no sign of faltering. She tugged at Lyall’s arm.

Lyall’s jaw tensed, voice low and unyielding. “When I left, I did not claim the inheritance and pack shares my mother left me. If you refuse to help, Father, then return what is rightfully

mine.”

Other pack members could no longer remain idle observers. Lyall’s reckless devotion to a she- wolf had once driven him to defy the Sanchez lineage itself. Bastien had raged, threatening disownment. Everyone had assumed Lyall had relinquished his claim to the family’s holdings. Portions had been distributed to other branches; the rest carved up among the elder packs. Once taken, treasures were not easily returned.

The sixth brother Rollo Sanchez’s voice dripped with venomous amusement. “Fifth brother, this is your mistake. Years gone by, yet you return to rile Father. Old grudges never die clean. And if we settle accounts, should Johanna leave her life within the Sanchez walls?”

Accalia Sanchez, eldest sister, cold and calculating, sneered. “Lyall, your mind still swirls with old waters. Why should Mother’s legacy serve this she-wolf?”

Ulric Sanchez remained silent, yet the woman at his side, Ivy, made it clear where her loyalties lay. Of all the Sanchez children, only he and Accalia had claimed the lion’s share under their mother’s guidance.

Lyall Sanchez’s thin lips pressed into a hard line, the predatory gleam in his amber eyes as sharp as claws. “Whatever was left for me, no matter what has happened, belongs to me alone to command.”

A subtle growl vibrated low in his throat as he glanced at the assembled Sanchez pack members. “If you insist I do not deserve it, then I will transfer everything to Rafe Magnus. Let him take the spoils.”

Faces stiffened, jaws tightening as the words landed like fangs on exposed skin. Lyall’s gaze, however, remained fixed on Magnus, unwavering and earnest. “Magnus… you are the true heir of the Sanchez den. The legacies Grandmother left behind, the treasures and holdings, leaving them to you is rightful. The matter with Johanna, my mate… it is but a trifle to your strength. If you choose to aid us, I can sign the relinquishment now.”

Even Bastien fell silent. Reason or justice mattered little; if Magnus wished to reclaim the relics of old, none in the room could oppose him.

The pack bristled, eyes flicking, tails still. A single sharp sneeze shattered the tension.

2/3

“Ah-choo!” Aysel sneezed, the delicate sound breaking the taut air. She smiled sheepishly at all eyes now fixed upon her. Physiology betrays me, her mind reminded her.

The moment’s knife-edge dissolved. Magnus, ever the shadowed Alpha, draped a soft fur-lined blanket over her shoulders, his dark gaze cold but protective. “Raise the hearth, and bring ginger-infused honey tea,” he ordered the steward.

The others, feeling no chill, blinked in confusion. The butler nodded and moved quickly, and for a heartbeat, the Sanchez den’s ancient tension faltered under the warmth of care.

Magnus’s gaze shifted to Lyall, an almost imperceptible smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Fifth uncle,” he said lightly, “after all these years, you have become adept at issuing empty promises.”

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