The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Magnus’s POV**

As I settled into the dim glow of my screen, I observed the videos with an outward composure that belied the satisfaction bubbling beneath my surface. The voices on the line—Jackson’s carefully chosen emissaries—spoke with an unrelenting fervor, their words slicing through the air like a blade. “Blind and foolish, incapable of managing their own den, unfilial, unworthy…” The accusations poured forth, a relentless stream that seemed to stretch into infinity, each one sharper than the last, like the fangs of a wolf ready to strike.

Even from a distance, I could feel the tension radiating from their defenses. They had blocked unknown numbers, turned off their phones, and sought refuge in backup lines. Clever wolves, I mused, but my team was even craftier. They were relentless hunters, stalking their prey with a precision that felt almost surgical. The audio from the onslaught echoed around the moonlit banquet, drawing curious and uncomfortable glances from those present. I couldn’t help but allow a smirk to creep across my lips. There was a certain delight in their discomfort, a satisfaction that was almost intoxicating.

Alpha Remus and his mate were a sight to behold, thoroughly humiliated as they slinked away from the hall, tails tucked and faces flushed with embarrassment. Even the usually composed Alpha lost his temper, cursing under his breath as he smashed his phone in a fit of rage, the sound a sharp punctuation to his defeat.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Celestine Ward was practically spitting blood in frustration as my proxies unleashed a barrage of cutting remarks upon her family: “Homewrecker, false heiress, thief of nests, evil wolf…” I could almost hear Lykos and Damon scrambling, their frantic attempts to salvage the situation echoing in my mind.

Knox Draven, a tempest in his own right, didn’t last two minutes against the onslaught. His anger flared like a cornered wolf, and he retaliated with a futile half-hour of counterattacks, ultimately smashing Celestine’s meticulously chosen device in a fit of pure rage.

My proxies reported back with precision that would impress any strategist. “Boss, unless they cut themselves off from the world entirely, we’ll keep at them like shadows. Three days of cursing guaranteed. Two days, twenty-three hours, five minutes remaining.”

I couldn’t help but admire their dedication and discipline. Everything had been accounted for—background checks, timing, delivery. It was a well-oiled machine, and I respected that.

My gaze drifted to Aysel—the stubborn little wolf cub from Moonvale—her eyes wide, sparkling with excitement as she absorbed every syllable of the unfolding revenge. She had never witnessed such surgical retribution before, and yet, she was utterly captivated. Her small, human heart radiated satisfaction like a beacon, glowing with the thrill of seeing someone finally fight back on her behalf.

“Boss… this is amazing, truly amazing! Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen,” she exclaimed, practically bowing in her adoration.

A chuckle escaped me as I recalled the countless times she had been impossibly loyal, insisting on following her whims with unwavering determination. I playfully jabbed at her forehead, a light-hearted gesture that belied the firm nature of my warning. Even now, she attempted to fuss over my injuries like an eager apprentice wolf.

“Best thing you can do now is keep your distance,” I cautioned, narrowing my amber eyes at her.

“Got it!” she replied, bouncing three feet away, a blur of human enthusiasm.

I frowned, feeling a strange pang at her retreat. Wolves were meant to respect boundaries, yet the sight of her pulling away left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Never mind. Come patch me up,” I relented, the words slipping out before I could fully process them.

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