The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 213

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 213**

In the heart of the Eastern territories, a scandal had erupted like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. Celestine’s imprisonment had become the talk of every hunting ground and media outlet, sending shockwaves through the community. Naturally, Damon Blackwood, her intended mate, found himself ensnared in this chaotic web, his pride clawed at by the very situation that should have been beneath him.

His frustration boiled over as he angrily fumbled with his communicator, summoning Serena. “Didn’t you assure me that the Ward cub’s imprisonment would remain a closely guarded secret?” he snapped, his voice laced with indignation.

Two months, he had been told. Just a minor confinement that would slip into obscurity, leaving no trace behind.

Serena’s voice came through, cool and unyielding, like the surface of a frozen lake. “Oh, that? I did suppress it. The Council never made a formal announcement—no announcement means no breach of protocol.”

“Then why is there an avalanche of news flooding in today?!” Damon’s growl reverberated through the receiver, a mixture of anger and disbelief. It wasn’t concern for Celestine that fueled his ire; it was the feeling of being outmaneuvered. His younger half-wolf sibling had even dared to mock him about their betrothal, a taunt that ignited a fierce fire within him.

Serena shrugged, the sound audible even over the line. “How should I know? You were reckless. Do you expect me to babysit every little mistake? Tell me, were those two months really hidden well enough?”

Indeed, whispers had circulated among a few wolves with sharp ears. They had sneered and mocked, but major reports had remained elusive, surfacing only in the shadows of online forums. Today’s onslaught of headlines, however, felt orchestrated, as if celebrating Celestine’s release—an innocent scapegoat, indeed.

After severing the connection, Serena unleashed a barrage of messages to an alias marked by a hand-drawn rose avatar, venting her frustration over the chaos. The final message dripped with a casual malice: “Miss Vale, any rivals lately? Perhaps a collaboration?”

It was as if fate had handed her a delectable morsel, ready to be savored.

Meanwhile, Aysel reclined languidly across the rich leather of Magnus’s office, flipping through the final proofs of her latest illustrated grimoire. The pages, delivered by the editors before her departure abroad, danced with vivid illustrations of spirits, beasts, and uncanny folk—crafted with a finesse that would make any predator’s heart race with admiration.

She traced her paw along the edge of the prints, reveling in the fruits of her labor. Just then, messages from Serena pinged into her view. Life had been smooth as silk lately; the wolves dared not challenge her in her den. Even the Sanchez household treaded lightly, avoiding her presence after Ulva’s passing and the hospitalization of little Rudi.

Yet, as Aysel’s ears twitched, her thoughts drifted to Bastien’s upcoming longevity feast. The next unfortunate soul to step forward would be the one to face her wrath.

Magnus approached, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap, his paws kneading the tension from her chest.

“You’ve been lounging here all day—don’t you feel cramped? It’s not good for the heart,” he remarked, his voice a soothing rumble.

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