The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 171

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 171**

The moment the youthful voices of the pack erupted into a cacophony of chatter, each one vying for attention, the atmosphere of the gathering at Mistyhowl Mountain was reignited, buzzing with an energy that was palpable.

In stark contrast to the lively crowd, Aaron stood alone, the only wolf cast out from this vibrant event.

He was a mess, drenched in sticky juice and the remnants of spilled liquor, forced to retreat under the weight of the scornful gazes that bore into him. The humiliation he felt burned hotter than the pride of his wolf, a searing reminder of his fall from grace.

Yet, the worst was yet to come.

As he dialed his driver, the unease in the voice on the other end sent a chill down Aaron’s spine.

“Alpha Aaron… the car’s tires just blew.”

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the world around him falling silent as his wolf snarled instinctively within him.

This had to be sabotage—there was no other explanation.

Someone clearly wanted him stranded up here, marooned in this unforgiving wilderness.

He clenched his jaw tightly, the pain a mere distraction from the rage boiling beneath his skin, a storm of fury waiting to erupt.

The Lodge had flatly refused to lend him a vehicle, their cold indifference like ice water on his fire.

Arranging for another car would take time he simply didn’t have; he was desperate to escape this cursed mountain—now.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind as he finally dialed the numbers of the close friends he had invited to this gathering, the ones who had once followed him like loyal pups.

“You’re staying for the two-day retreat, right? Let me borrow your car. I promise I’ll return it tomorrow,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

But on the other end, every single one of them stuttered, stumbling over their words, crafting excuses that dripped with avoidance.

Call after call, each one ending in rejection.

Not one of them would lend him a vehicle.

It dawned on him, like a heavy weight settling in his stomach: he had just offended Aysel, the Moonvale she-wolf, who was under the protection of Magnus Sanchez, the most dominant Alpha on the continent.

Who would dare to get entangled with Aaron now?

Cutting ties was an act of mercy.

In the span of half an hour, the once-smug young wolf, who had been so eager to defend Celestine Ward, plummeted from the heights of confidence to the depths of despair, tasting the bitter coldness of pack politics for the first time.

Fury erupted within him like a volcano, and he smashed his phone against the ground, the shattering glass mirroring his own broken pride. When that wasn’t enough to quell his rage, he grabbed the driver’s device and hurled it away, watching it tumble uselessly to the ground.

The driver stood there, speechless, his expression a mixture of shock and concern.

Fine, let him smash them both.

Now, he was left without even the means to call for outside help.

Ten minutes after his tantrum subsided, the reality of his actions crashed down on him like a heavy wave.

Before he could unleash another outburst, the security captain of Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge approached, his smile professional yet devoid of warmth.

“Sir, this is pack-neutral territory. Non-lodging guests must vacate quickly,” he stated flatly.

Aaron’s glare could have burned a hole through steel.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry! Are you rushing me to my death?! I don’t even have a car—how am I supposed to get down the mountain?!” he shouted, his voice rising in frustration.

The captain lowered his gaze, shifting to Aaron’s legs, a silent reminder of his current predicament.

In that moment, Aaron froze, the reality of his situation crashing down on him.

A short while later, he found himself trudging down the mountain path, stumbling with each step, sweat pouring down his brow, his legs weak and trembling, his wolf energy completely drained. Regret gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of the humiliation he had orchestrated for Aysel Vale.

He still thought Celestine was “pitiful,” of course.

But now, having tasted genuine helplessness, the allure of “saving a damsel” felt far less glamorous, a hollow fantasy in the face of his reality.

Unbeknownst to him, his shattered phone was filled with dozens of missed calls from his furious parents, and he was on the brink of being shipped off to a harsh outpost in the South with Knox Draven and his pack brothers.

If he had known, he might have considered rolling off the cliff himself, a more appealing option than facing the consequences awaiting him.

The first car he spotted making its way up the mountain was a beacon of hope, and he waved it down without hesitation.

The vehicle came to a stop, and the window rolled down, revealing a woman behind the wheel.

She looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

The car itself was nothing impressive, certainly not from the ranks of the Imperial wolf elite.

With a sense of entitlement, he lifted his chin, trying to project an air of authority.

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