The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 152

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 152**

**Aysel’s POV**

A sharp crack resounded through the air.

SLAP!

Before Noah could even manage to articulate the last vile word that lingered on his lips, my hand flew across his cheek with a satisfying crack—a sound that echoed in the tense atmosphere, sharp and resonant, like a bell tolling.

His head jerked to the side, momentarily stunned.

A smirk curled on my lips, revealing a glimmer of my fangs.

“Now,” I purred, the words slipping out with a predatory grace, “I believe I have the qualifications.”

“What-?” Noah stammered, his hand clutching his cheek in disbelief, the shock evident in his wide eyes.

“Your face offended my hand,” I replied lightly, the words rolling off my tongue like honey laced with venom. “And as Magnus’s chosen mate—though unofficial for now—you dared to let your tongue wag in my direction. I’m merely… restoring the equilibrium.”

I tilted my head, my gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Daron!”

My voice sliced through the air, a command that resonated deep within the instincts of the Alpha-bred wolves around me.

“Wash my cousin’s mouth for me.”

Daron, my wolf-hound—massive and obedient, embodying more wolf than dog—had been sitting quietly at my heel, his presence a comforting weight.

The moment my order left my lips, he sprang into action, a blur of muscle and teeth, moving with a grace that belied his size.

Even without shifting forms, Daron exuded an aura of raw predatory energy, a palpable warning emanating from every ripple of his sinewy body. Anyone foolish enough to provoke him would find themselves at the mercy of a beast far beyond their reckoning.

Noah froze for just a heartbeat, the realization dawning on him.

He knew.

Daron wasn’t just any wolf; he was Magnus’s personal hunting companion—the apex enforcer of the Shadowbane Pack. The very thought of even brushing against him without permission invoked the terrifying wrath of Alpha Magnus. This knowledge alone kept Noah from embracing his wolf form, for to do so would be to openly challenge Magnus—a move so reckless that only a fool would dare attempt it.

In an instant, Daron was snarling, lunging towards Noah with a ferocity that sent chills down spines.

Noah’s scream pierced through the night.

The air crackled with tension as every young wolf nearby shrieked or stumbled backward, instinctively retreating from the impending chaos. The kill-pressure radiating from Daron was undeniable; one bite would not only strip Noah of his dignity but also leave him bleeding.

Panic surged through Noah as he bolted, tripping over his own feet, the scent of his terror twisting into something acrid and pitiful.

“You’re insane!” he yelled, his voice a frantic pitch as he ran. “Do you even know who I am?!”

I regarded him with a cold, unyielding stare.

“Of course I do,” I replied, my voice steady. “You’re Rudi Sanchez’s son.”

My wolf growled softly within me.

And I’ve been searching for you.

I turned my attention away from the chaos unfolding behind me—the splashing feet, Noah’s panicked curses, the wind howling through the ancestral estate as he fled for his life.

Instead, I focused on the boy who had earlier stood up for that timid girl with the messy bangs.

“You,” I commanded, my tone brooking no argument. “Go fetch Rudi.”

He hesitated, glancing nervously toward Noah, who had by now lost one shoe and any semblance of dignity he once possessed.

His expression said it all:

When someone is bullying us, are we really supposed to fetch their mother?

Sensing his hesitation, I waved my hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry. Just go,” I urged, my voice casual yet firm.

He swallowed hard, nodded quickly, and took off in a sprint—his long legs propelling him forward in a desperate bid for self-preservation.

I returned my focus to supervising Daron, who was now gleefully herding Noah in tight circles. Occasionally, I raised my voice to direct him.

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