The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 146

Chapter 146

Third Person’s POV

Magnus had made up his mind: today, he wouldn’t set foot outside the Shadowbane Alpha

Estate.

Not when Aysel had shoved into his arms-was still recovering.

He intended to stay, to guard, to hover.

But the calls would not stop.

One after another, they vibrated through the den: from the Shadowbane corporate council, from the Pack Healers’ Pavilion, from the old ancestral manor on the ridge.

The last were about Anna whose sudden death still hung over the pack like a winter omen.

A funeral needed to be arranged.

And in a great pack like Shadowbane, even those who died in disgrace needed to be placed somewhere.

The Elder Matron and the house steward could handle logistics, but the final question still had to pass through the reigning Alpha by blood:

Where would Anna be buried?

On the couch, Magnus lounged with the lazy danger of a wolf too strong to care.

His posture was unrushed, but his scent carried the sharp iron edge of dominance.

With one hand he stroked Daron-their little wolf-hound hybrid-who was currently butting his head against Aysel’s thigh in an attempt to be held.

Magnus spoke into the communicator, voice calm, almost bored:

“She’ll be buried in the Shadowbane ancestral grounds, of course.”

A pause.

A rustle on the other end.

Shock. Unease.

1/5

His lips lifted in a humorless smile.

“That whole branch was a nest of demons,” he said lightly. “Let them cling to each other in death as they did in life.”

Aysel heard every word.

She didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t question why Anna had died.

She already knew.

This morning, while Magnus had gone to make breakfast, she had secretly checked the pack’s newsfeed.

She’d seen the wreckage.

Seen the headlines.

The vehicle that exploded hadn’t been meant for Anna.

It had been meant for her.

And when she thought of that secluded side-tower, the one where Anna and her kin had cornered her, humiliated her, tried to break her-Aysel felt nothing but cold, clean justice.

The world accused Magnus of being ruthless, merciless, inhuman—a Shadowbane Alpha whose wolf, Rafe, was born drenched in blood.

But those outsiders had never lived his nightmares.

Never survived his upbringing.

Never knew the cruelty he crawled out of.

So when Anna tried to warn her how “monstrous” Magnus was-thinking she could turn Aysel against him-it had been laughably naive.

Aysel would never fear him.

She would hand him the blade.

Because beneath their skins, beneath their polite smiles, beneath the veneer of civility—

they were the same kind of mad.

By the third day, when Aysel’s strength had fully returned, Magnus finally brought her- symbolically-to the Pack Healers’ Pavilion to visit Bastien Sanchez, the old patriarch who had ruled Shadowbane for decades.

Bastien looked up when his long-vanished grandson entered, Aysel’s hand in his.

The old wolf’s first instinct was to sneer, to throw a jab, to lace the air with toxic dominance.

But then he remembered the current political reality.

And the words died in his throat.

He settled for an awkward grunt.

He already knew what had happened to Anna.

The funeral date had been set.

Her birth family-once eager to cling to Shadowbane’s prestige-had rejected the invitation to attend.

They declared publicly that they would consider her as long dead, their grief tangled with resentment, insisting she had brought ruin upon their kin.

Bastien could only sigh at that.

Karma was a wolf with sharp teeth.

After a moment, he exhaled and asked Magnus:

“I want Lyall Sanchez and his mate to return to the old manor on the day of the burial. Bring Alfie as well. What do you think of that?”

Magnus toyed lazily with Aysel’s fingers, not bothering to look up.

A soft, cold laugh.

“What do I think? I think I’ll be standing.”

Bastien’s eyes flashed-anger rising.

3/5

But Magnus spoke again before he could erupt:

“Grandfather, is your judgment failing with age? Must you ask me about such trivial matters

now?”

Silence settled.

Heavy, uncomfortable.

Then Bastien exhaled, long and tired.

“Fine. There’s nothing here that needs you. Go.”

Magnus nodded, rose, and tugged Aysel up with him.

“Rest well, Grandfather. We’ll take our leave.”

Bastien closed his eyes.

Get out.

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