The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 178

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 178**

The night enveloped Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge in a cloak of shadows, the stars above shimmering like a scattered crown of wolffire, illuminating the dark expanse with their ethereal glow. Each twinkle seemed to whisper secrets of the universe, adding a mystical aura to the already charged atmosphere.

Before her stood Magnus Sanchez, the formidable Alpha of Shadowbane. He towered over her, his stature both impressive and commanding. Even in the stillness of the night, he exuded an undeniable authority, a predator’s calm confidence that could send shivers down the spine of any wolf who dared to meet his gaze. Yet, in this moment, as he cradled her in his arms, there was a gentleness to his touch that offered a protective embrace, starkly contrasting the sharp, piercing command that flickered in his eyes, raising the hairs on her nape in instinctive caution.

The soft strains of “Für Elise” drifted through the lodge terrace, the piano’s last notes lingering like the fading light of dusk. The wolves gathered around felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through their ranks, a collective understanding that something monumental was poised to unfold before them.

In the shadows, Zenia—her keen eyes always observant—dismissively tossed aside the single flower she had once held, a gesture small yet significant. It was a silent acknowledgment of her own heart’s truth. Even though she had never met Magnus before, witnessing Aysel’s unwavering trust and devotion nestled in his embrace painted a clear picture: not every youthful love story culminates in a happy ending, and some paths are irrevocably altered.

The sweet memories of the past now served only to amplify the bitterness of the present. Damon Blackwood, with his romantic notions, seemed utterly oblivious to this harsh reality.

Zenia reflected inwardly: there was no need for questions—the outcome was already etched in fate. She recalled the moment when Damon had pleaded, “Can we start over?” His voice had been filled with desperation, a plea that echoed in her mind.

As the final note of the piano faded into silence, Damon turned towards the lodge’s wind-and-sun shelter, where white gauze curtains danced in the cool mountain breeze. Shadows moved within, revealing a familiar silhouette. He picked up the bouquet resting on the piano, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the gazebo, every eye in the gathering fixated on him.

“I know,” his voice rang out, cutting through the hushed murmurs of the pack, “that no amount of apologies can reclaim the time we’ve lost. Misunderstandings have led us down many wrong paths. Yet, after twenty years together—doesn’t that mean our past held some value? I’ve come to understand what truly matters to me. I will not utter another apology, for no obstacle will ever compel me to release your paw. Just grant me one more chance to love you, to cherish you in the way you deserve.”

He gazed fervently into the shadows, hoping for the familiar figure to turn, to respond, to reignite the flame of their old bond.

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