The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 251

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 251**

**Aysel’s POV**

**42**

**Finished**

Lately, I found myself hopelessly enamored with hotpot—an obsession that Magnus deemed dangerously excessive.

Every time he attempted to intervene, all it took was a glance from me, a flicker of my Moonvale charm, and a look reminiscent of a forsaken puppy, and he would crumble like a house of cards.

Magnus, the formidable Alpha of Shadowbane, the mightiest wolf across the entire continent, would relent without hesitation.

In response, he delved into research on “healthier hotpot bases,” as if his very existence hinged on it. He even went so far as to drag the seasoned chef from the Sanchez ancestral manor—one who had been trained in the art of flame-born dishes—out of his comfortable retirement, compelling him to mentor him in the intricate craft of broths, chili pastes, and the elusive spirit-herb condiments.

Sure, he could have simply hired the chef to come over each night, but Magnus had discovered another addiction—

Not to hotpot itself, but to the act of cooking alongside me.

Well, it was more about him cooking while I “charged” him, leaning against his back, playfully tugging at his apron strings, or nuzzling his neck as he meticulously chopped vegetables. Unless he was too absorbed in his task or I was too lazy to leave the couch, we practically inhabited the kitchen together, entwined like two wolves sharing a warm den.

And to be honest? I relished every moment of it.

He thrived on my enjoyment, and it thrilled him to see my delight.

This meant he was willing to absorb any knowledge necessary, ensuring that whenever I craved something, I could have it without delay.

So when Bastien, in an unusual twist of fate, developed a craving for something spicy and sought out “the chef he had practically fought his old glutton friends to the brink of death to secure,” he stumbled upon a shocking revelation:

His cherished chef had already been spirited away by his wayward grandson.

In a fit of indignation, he called Magnus, demanding the return of the chef.

Magnus didn’t even flinch at the audacity of the request.

“He’s staying. Aysel enjoys spicy food. Unless you wish for her to come to the ancestral manor every single day?”

**1/5**

**15:16 Mon, Dec 15 T**

**Chapter 251**

**42**

**Finished**

A heavy silence enveloped the conversation.

An agonizing, drawn-out silence.

That night, the old Alpha was so incensed that he consumed half a bowl less than usual.

Meanwhile, Magnus seized the moment to “offer flowers in another’s vase,” showcasing the new culinary delights he had acquired. I reveled in his cooking to such an extent that I felt my wolf tail nearly springing forth in delight.

I trailed after Magnus in the kitchen, practically his little shadow, chanting:

“Magnus, you’re incredible!”

“So delicious!”

“I love it. I love you. I adore everything you create!”

Every compliment I showered upon him made his Alpha pride swell until he wore a grin akin to a wolf who had just snatched the moon from the sky.

But later that night, just when he was poised to claim the fruits of his labor—when we were intertwined, breathless, and he was about to shift his weight and take me—

My communicator chimed.

Then it chimed again.

Then it erupted with a flurry of frantic voice notes and sticker-spam.

I froze in place.

Magnus froze as well.

Every muscle in Magnus’s body went rigid.

And I…

Like the brazen rogue I evidently was…

Pushed him away, scrambled for my clothes, and leaped upright.

Half an hour later, in the frigid corridors of the city authority station, Magnus stood beside me, emanating enough Shadowbane frost to chill the air by a solid ten degrees.

We stepped inside.

**2/5**

**15:16 Mon, Dec 15 T**

**Chapter 251**

**42**

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