The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 263

Chapter 263

Third Person’s POV

“Fenrir!!!”

Before he could even open his eyes, Celestine’s claws were at work. Her teeth bared, eyes flashing with predatory anger as she grabbed the document pouch in front of him and shredded it into useless scraps.

“Damn it, Celestine! What are you doing?!” Fenrir wiped the crimson-stained liquid off his face-part wine, part wolf-blood residue from excitement-and clutched her wrist.

Her other hand, free and lethal, swung across his face in a blur.

“Are you even a wolf, Fenrir? Treat me like this?!”

Fenrir staggered back, stunned by the dual onslaught of claws and teeth… metaphorically speaking. He flailed, anger and confusion boiling over. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to you!”

Celestine snorted coldly, a predatory curl of her lips.

“You said you’d bring me along, yet you stayed in the Alpha’s suite yourself, forcing me to dwell with the pack servants! Humiliate me like this? I’ll remember!”

Her mind replayed the horrifying vision of the fat, smelly male servant in the temporary quarters-mid- change, before she could even secure her own den. Celestine nearly howled in rage, the scent of the servant’s filth invading her senses.

Fenrir’s thoughts were in complete chaos. Her words-what kind of wolfish logic was this?

“Servants’ quarters? You mean the yacht’s arrangement? Everyone’s assigned by the host! Even if it’s not the private luxury den, the standard suites on this vessel are… acceptable!”

She glared at him, eyes flashing like twin moons of wrath.

“You wait,” she spat, stepping over the shards of her destroyed documents and stalking off.

Her reputation had already bled dry-if he dared humiliate her, she would tear her pride to shreds too. Everyone would witness her wrath, and all would lose face.

Fenrir did not follow. He stood frozen, staring at the shredded remnants of years of Moonvale research. His claws clenched, his heart more torn than his expression showed.

Nearby, Serena spread her paws, shrugging at the scene with an expression that clearly said, See? I told you Moonvale’s chaos is contagious.

Fenrir closed his eyes, exhaling a low growl.

He could not understand how Celestine-the wolf who once commanded the ballroom stage with effortless elegance-had become a snarling, disruptive storm.

The patent negotiations had failed repeatedly, and now she paraded her fury like a wolf in heat, drawing stares from every pack member aboard. Fenrir felt a prick of despair creeping in. He remained silent,

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seated, letting the servants hand him towels.

During this pause, Serena vanished quietly, unwilling to be trapped in the pack spectacle.

But as she reached the threshold of the dining hall, she froze.

Wait… Celestine’s quarters?

At that very moment, Zane-Serena’s cousin of the Ironhowl Pack-was grinning like a wolf cub with its first kill, phone clutched tightly in his paws.

He had hitched a ride on Serena’s fame to attend the gathering, with the agreement that he would behave unless summoned for errands.

Serena had just finished berating the event organizers for their harebrained invitation scheme-releasing luxury yachts and top suites to whoever screamed loudest.

Before she could implement her corrective measures, Fenrir had arrived, igniting Celestine’s wrath.

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