The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 158

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 158**

In the quiet shadows of the night, far removed from the familiar confines of the Sanchez den, Alfie stood with an air of quiet dignity. His features bore the unmistakable mark of his lineage, but unlike Magnus, the formidable Alpha of the Shadowbane pack, who radiated an intimidating presence with his sharp angles and fierce demeanor, Alfie embodied a gentler strength. His smile was warm, a beacon in the dim light, and behind his glasses, his eyes shimmered like the surface of a tranquil lake under the moon’s embrace—calm, reflective, and inviting.

Aysel felt a flutter of uncertainty as she faced him. She had no recollection of Alfie, no shared history to anchor them. They weren’t family in any traditional sense—not like Magnus and the other Shadowbane wolves, whose bonds were forged through loyalty and rivalry that ran as deep as the roots of ancient trees. To Aysel, the world of the Sanchez den was starkly divided into two camps: those who stood by Magnus and those who opposed him. Alfie, however, seemed to float in between, a figure shrouded in ambiguity.

“Oh,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of indifference lacing her words. She had no desire to delve into the past, nor did she feel compelled to unravel the mystery of his claim. Why should it matter to her that he insisted he had seen her before?

Her gaze drifted toward the dining area, her mind wandering to the small cake Magnus had promised her. The sweet anticipation stirred within her, but the absence of the dessert made her restless.

Alfie chuckled softly, a sound that barely broke the silence of the room. He couldn’t help but think that if it weren’t for Magnus’ presence—if he hadn’t witnessed the chaos that had unfolded by the pond—he might have reconsidered his approach entirely.

His thoughts meandered back to the first time he laid eyes on Aysel. It was during his junior year at the academy, a time when he had accompanied a mentor to judge a competition in A City. Amidst a sea of eager students, she had stood out like a rare gem—strikingly beautiful, solitary, and starkly different from her sister, who flitted about like a butterfly, basking in the admiration of others.

Alfie had learned early on that appearances could be deceiving. That week, he observed the undercurrents of jealousy, manipulation, and whispered insults swirling around Aysel. The boys who should have been enamored or frustrated by her talent instead found themselves bewildered, their petty schemes unraveling before their eyes. He watched from a distance, fascinated yet detached, resisting the urge to intervene even as she left an indelible mark on his memory.

To the casual observer, Alfie appeared gentle and approachable, the kind of young wolf who drew admiration from afar. But beneath that calm exterior lay the cold pride of the Sanchez lineage—a pride that had been cultivated in the harshest of environments. Even as a child, he had learned to walk past the victims of bullying, their bloodied faces a mere backdrop to his own indifference.

His mother, Johanna, had never been able to offer him the warmth of unconditional love, her heart hardened by the animosity that had surrounded his birth. His father, Lyall Sanchez, had maintained a distant demeanor, plagued by a subtle guilt, as if he believed Alfie were the child of another. The dynamics within their family were marked by a careful distance, a restrained affection, and an ever-present void. Alfie grew up with the understanding that the world was a cruel place, human desires often ugly, and that survival frequently demanded a heart kept at bay.

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