The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 227

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 227**

In the heart of the Empire, the den pulsed with life, filled with the intoxicating scents of the most influential Packs. The air was thick with the howls and chatter of Alphas and matriarchs, each one a formidable force in their own right. The lanterns cast a warm glow on the gathered families, their furs shimmering like jewels in the soft light. Yet, amidst the grandeur and the mingling of powerful figures, Aysel’s attention was irresistibly pulled away from the vibrant cliques and the ever-watchful Shadowbane Alpha, Magnus, who stood loyally at her side. Instead, her gaze settled on a man she had often heard whispered about but had never truly laid eyes on: Magnus’s elder brother, Derek Sanchez.

Derek was the sole heir of the Sanchez first line, raised under the watchful eye of his mother, Ulva, a she-wolf of remarkable cunning and discipline. He carried himself with an air of authority that was both commanding and restrained, a testament to the rigorous upbringing he had endured. Had fate spun a different thread, Derek would have been the uncontested heir to the Sanchez legacy. Before Magnus’s meteoric rise, it was Derek who had basked in the attention of the elder Alpha, Bastien, receiving extensive training and favor. But the winds of fortune had shifted, and only one crown could be worn, leading Bastien to set his sights on Magnus instead.

With the unwavering support of Ulva and her allies, Derek had forged his own path, establishing a territory and enterprise that stood apart from the core of the Sanchez Pack. In stark contrast to the unremarkable operations of the Zark from the third line, Derek’s endeavors flourished, earning him respect and admiration. Bastien, meanwhile, took solace in his first-line heir’s achievements, ensuring that both Derek and Ulva were well-provided for, showering them with lands and resources as a reward for their hard work.

As Aysel meandered past the banquet tables, her intention was to savor a delicate honeyed pastry, but her eyes inadvertently fell upon Derek. She observed the Darkmoon Pack, where Lucas and his mate moved in perfect harmony, even in the twilight of their lives, paying their respects to Bastien. Aysel couldn’t help but reflect on how a strong pack, united in purpose and careful in their dealings, could foster such tranquility. Once a reckless youth, Bastien had sired many heirs with little regard for consequence, leading to a lineage fraught with strife. Some of his offspring, born from fleeting passions, had caused endless turmoil, while others, like the wayward fourth son, had succumbed to their basest instincts, leading to their own downfall.

Her musings were abruptly interrupted by a voice that cut through the ambient noise with calm authority.

“Grandfather,” Derek said, his tone light yet respectful.

Bastien turned, his gaze first landing on Derek’s tall and composed figure before shifting to Aysel, who stood with a small ceremonial cake in hand. Her wide eyes betrayed a mixture of surprise and judgment as she thought, *How can you be such a two-faced old wolf?*

The old Alpha faltered mid-sentence, caught off guard. He stiffened as he addressed the Darkmoon trio, their expressions shifting to one of shock. “If only my Magnus had siblings like these,” he remarked, deliberately overlooking Aysel’s incredulous glare.

With a wave of his hand, he beckoned to Derek, “Derek, come meet your Uncle Lucas and Aunt Darkmoon.”

As Derek brushed past Aysel, he offered a precise bow. “Sister-in-law,” he intoned with a politeness that felt almost rehearsed.

Aysel had meant to poke fun at the old wolf, but the moment slipped away like sand through her fingers. She pursed her lips, feeling a sense of disinterest in lingering among those who clearly wished she would vanish from sight. Her instincts nudged her to seek out Magnus, to discern the disposition of this elder brother who had so long existed in his shadow.

Before she could act on that impulse, the sharp ears of the Moonvale pack, honed from years of observing the intricate hierarchy of their world, caught wind of a brewing disturbance. A flustered servant hurried towards her, urgency etched on her face. “Miss Vale! Trouble! The second line couple are at it—fighting in their den!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify