The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 217

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**Chapter 217**

As Ivy exited the office, her heart raced in her chest, a wild pulse that echoed the turmoil within her. The wolf inside her stirred restlessly, clawing at the surface of her skin, yearning for release. The grand foyer of the Darkmoon Pack’s manor loomed ahead, but just as she stepped through the threshold, she nearly collided with Olivia. The young she-wolf was returning from the biting cold outside, her cloak still heavy with the remnants of winter’s chill.

The sight of Olivia sent a wave of emotions crashing over Ivy—pain, disappointment, disbelief, and a simmering anger, all tangled together like a pack of wounded wolves fighting for dominance. Memories of the past surged forth, sharp and vivid.

It all traced back to that argument with Raya, so many years ago…

To the rage that had ignited her wolf, sending it into a frenzied state within the confines of the car…

To the moment she had lost control—

And with it, the precious life she had carried within her.

The healers had been left with no choice but to remove her womb, leaving Ivy a she-wolf forever barred from the sacred right to bear young. In their world, such a wound was not merely emotional; it was a deep, unhealable scar that carved into her very bones, casting a shadow that no Alpha aura could ever hope to suppress.

Ivy had been the first girl born into the Darkmoon Pack in generations, a child blessed by the moon’s light, cherished as the clan’s rare daughter. The thought of losing the chance to nurture another pup hollowed her chest, leaving an ache that resonated through her very being.

And then there was Olivia—

Olivia, her own blood, the daughter of her brother, the beacon of hope for the next generation.

Ivy had loved her fiercely, protectively, as if she were her own flesh and blood. But now, this girl—this child she had nurtured and raised—had turned her back on her for the sake of a man.

For Magnus Sanchez, the Shadowbane Alpha—a creature of ruin, storm, and shadow.

Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor.

Olivia, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within her aunt, flinched under the icy sharpness of Ivy’s gaze. “Aunt Ivy… why are you looking at me like that? You’re scaring me,” she stammered, her voice quavering with uncertainty. She caught sight of Ivy’s reddened eyes and the faint tremor in her breath, instinctively glancing up the staircase as if she could sense the tension radiating from the Alpha’s floor.

“Did you fight with my father?” she asked, concern lacing her words. “I can talk to him for you.”

“Olivia,” Ivy’s voice sliced through the air, low and cold, resonating with the echo of an injured wolf’s growl.

“When,” Ivy demanded, her tone sharp as a blade, “did you start to fancy that Shadowbane Alpha—that wildborn wolf no pack dared to claim?”

Olivia froze, the weight of Ivy’s unyielding stare pinning her in place. Her eyes dropped, and her lips pressed into a thin line, as if sealing away her thoughts.

“When I was seventeen,” she whispered, the admission barely escaping her lips.

At that age, most boys were awkward, half-grown wolves with bright, innocent eyes and untested claws. But Magnus—he was different.

The young Magnus Sanchez, a lone wolf forged from frost and night, his blood-stained aura hanging over him like a second shadow—dangerous, cold, untamed.