The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 157

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 157**

**Aysel’s POV**

As soon as I had thrust my finger toward Bastien, I noticed a subtle shift in Magnus. The rigidity in his posture began to fade, the tension that had been coiling around him like a serpent loosening its grip. He accepted the check I had pressed against his chest, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across his features. In that moment, I could feel it—he was reveling in this unexpected pleasure.

He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the moment, caught off guard by his own instincts.

I surveyed the hall, taking in the scene around us. When had anyone ever witnessed the heir of the Sanchez den radiating such contentment, basking in his own glow like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds? Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to be drawn to him, twisted with emotions of envy, fear, and frustration, like moths circling a flame.

With my little allies beside me, I redirected my gaze toward them—those small, eager eyes of the fledgling wolves who had come to lend their support. A smile crept onto my lips as I met Magnus’ gaze, allowing him to see the triumph that bubbled within me.

“Magnus,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper, “today your little cousin stood up for you, and your distant cousin helped me with the errands too.”

I gestured toward the girl with the freshly cut bangs, who had bravely spoken the truth, and the boy who had diligently carried my messages.

Magnus’ eyes flickered to them for a brief moment, a spark of interest lighting up his expression. “Tell my second uncle and third cousin to reach out to me.”

Their faces transformed, glowing like moonlight reflecting off freshly fallen snow, as they nodded vigorously, gratitude shining in every glance they cast in my direction. Their families, still reeling from this unexpected twist of fortune, were exchanging excited whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

It was almost comical to witness. All their previous attempts to gain favor with the heir of Shadowbane had been in vain, yet here were two fledglings who had effortlessly bridged that gap. More pocket money would surely be on the horizon—generous amounts, no doubt.

A soft smile danced on my lips. They needed to understand the clear message: supporting Magnus, even in the shadows, meant strength and eventual reward. If they chose to follow him, to protect him, there would always be sustenance—both metaphorical and literal. The next time a brash wolf like Noah dared to provoke him, they would instinctively rally to his defense, even in my absence.

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