The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 228

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 228**

**Finished**

“Retribution! It’s all about retribution, Ulric! I may have lured you in, may have sunk my claws deep into your life and ripped apart your loyalties—but if you hadn’t been so consumed by your insatiable hunger for power, if you hadn’t cast aside your mate first… could I have ever triumphed?!” Ivy’s crimson eyes sparkled with a fierce light, reminiscent of burning coals in the dead of winter. Each word she uttered was like a dagger, sharp and fiery, aimed directly at the heart of the Shadowbane second-line Alpha. She poured forth every ounce of venom she could muster, her heart a cauldron of rage. “Now, tell me, who do you choose to show your affection to? Your true mate is gone… dead, all because of you! Your cubs refuse to acknowledge you, they loathe you to such an extent that even their mother’s remains cannot rest with you—they despise your scent, your very existence!”

Ivy prowled around him like a wolf that had been cornered, her fury ripping open old wounds that had long been festering. Each word that fell from her lips was a calculated strike, meant to penetrate the very depths of Ulric’s soul. The crimson mark from her last attack burned against his furred chest, a painful reminder of the cage his own son had fashioned for him—a wheelchair that was as much a physical prison as it was a symbolic one, binding the once-mighty Alpha in chains forged from his own legacy.

“I swear to you,” she spat, venom dripping from her tone, “you shall find no relief in this life, nor will you seek forgiveness in death. The mother and son you have wronged will never love you. Not ever. And when your bones finally rest beneath the earth, my name, Ivy, will be etched beside your tombstone. In this life or the next, you will never escape me!”

The atmosphere in the room crackled with the intensity of their pack bond, twisted and warped by betrayal. Ulric’s pale muzzle was a mask of sorrow and resignation; his claws flexed against his knees, trapped in the storm of her words. The brilliant glow of the lanterns above illuminated a marriage that had been ravaged, even though the wolves themselves still breathed and bared their fangs side by side.

Ivy’s fury spiraled out of control; she smashed fragile ornaments with wild abandon, snarled at the walls, and hurled curses not only at Ulric but also at Magnus, Raya, and even her own Darkmoon kin. Her hatred sought every living creature, a primal urge to claw and tear at the very fabric of the world around her.

Outside the slightly ajar den door, Ayse’s amber eyes glimmered with a calculated calmness. She had listened intently, absorbing the tremors in the air, the sharp scent of raw anger and deep hurt seeping into the hallway like a dark mist. The round-faced servant, Circa, stood beside her, visibly shivering, uncertain whether to step in and intervene. Ayse’s keen instincts, honed by her Moonvale heritage, had already assessed the situation: Ulric’s injured leg left him vulnerable, and Ivy’s uncontrolled rage could be deadly if left unchecked.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify