**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 188**
In the dim light of the car, Skylar paused, her Frostfang eyes narrowing as she considered the situation. “But tracking his den is no easy feat. Who knows where he might be lurking tonight?” Her voice held a hint of frustration, a reminder of the elusive nature of their target.
Aysel, on the other hand, merely shook her head, a subtle smile dancing at the corners of her lips. “There’s no need for that. We’ll let the prey wander right into our snare.” Her confidence radiated, a palpable force that seemed to fill the air between them.
With a swift motion, she sent a succinct message to the bodyguards Magnus had assigned to her, her fingers flying over the screen. Then, she turned her gaze to the foreign streets flashing past the car window, each one carrying the scents of unfamiliar wolves and uncharted territories. The thrill of the hunt coursed through her veins, and her smile widened, a reflection of her anticipation.
As the evening unfolded, the two she-wolves prepared themselves with meticulous care, each detail honed to perfection, embodying the fierce confidence that came from their Pack heritage. They chose the most extravagant vehicle in their fleet, its sleek lines and polished surface gleaming under the city lights, and set off into the night.
Following the coordinates that had been sent to Aysel’s phone, they arrived at one of the city’s most prestigious high-end bars—a hotspot frequented by wandering Alphas and affluent rogue wolves seeking solace in the vibrant nightlife.
The moment their heels struck the pavement, the atmosphere shifted, an electric charge igniting the air around them.
Two striking she-wolves from the East, a luxury vehicle parked nearby, and an aura that was too controlled, too disciplined—it was clear they were high-born.
Several imposing foreign males, their broad shoulders and golden hair a stark contrast to the darkened streets, instinctively turned towards them, drawn in like moths to a flickering flame.
Yet, the expressions on the beauties’ faces remained icy, their disinterest in Western advances palpable. It was only when their gazes brushed over a few Eastern faces that the frost in their demeanor thawed, if only slightly.
A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the onlookers, a silent acknowledgment of their unrequited interest.
However, the wolves who frequented this establishment understood the unspoken rules of their world; none were foolish enough to pursue a she-wolf radiating power and lineage.
Aysel and Skylar slid into a booth strategically positioned with its back to the entrance—a choice any wolf would recognize as wise. They settled in, allowing the vibrant sounds of the live band and the mingling scents of the bar to envelop them, a comforting cocoon in the midst of chaos.
When Aysel’s phone buzzed, she exchanged a knowing glance with Skylar, a silent communication that spoke volumes.
Skylar raised her hand, her voice clear and commanding. “We’ll take a private room.”
Meanwhile, Dariusz found himself ensnared in a web of misfortune. Celestine had inexplicably severed all ties back home, leaving him adrift. The Taylors family had been ousted from the capital by Luna Evelyn’s decree, robbing him of vital information and financial support. To make matters worse, the wealthy patroness he had finally charmed abroad had discarded him before he could reap the benefits he sought.
Despite his striking looks and cunning intellect, Dariusz could have easily carved out a legitimate existence in these foreign wolf territories. He did maintain a respectable façade, a mere cover to lure in higher-value prey, but the truth was that after tasting the sweetness of effortless wealth, he found the grind of normal wages utterly beneath him.
He clung to that job only for appearances, a way to better navigate the elite social networks filled with opportunistic males.
In this foreign land, he had cultivated numerous acquaintances—wolves, humans, and rogues from all walks of life.


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