The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 266

Chapter 266

Third Person’s POV

Through her tear-blurred vision, Olivia saw the calm, predatory eyes of Magnus. Every fiber of her being screamed that he meant to kill her. The air between them seemed to thrum with the low growl of a wolf ready to strike. Olivia had never felt such raw fear, the kind that crawled under your skin and froze your

blood.

But soon, even fear became distant, a fading echo. The suffocating pressure of Magnus’s grip left her body icy. Her hands, still clutching his wrist, slowly drooped. The strength in her legs faded, and she teetered on the edge of consciousness, sliding toward the darkness of a world that seemed endless and vertigo-inducing.

Then, in the last heartbeat before death could claim her, Magnus released her, letting her collapse to the ground.

This wasn’t the place to finish her off. Not with Aysel nearby, waiting outside.

Olivia lay gasping, a ring of deep purple bruises encircling her neck, her sobs uncontrollable. Every breath she drew felt like shards of ice, her body trembling under the sheer terror of Magnus’s presence.

Magnus ignored her, moving with the cold precision of a predator. From his pocket, he drew a pristine white handkerchief, carefully wiping his hands as if nothing had happened. His other arm still cradled Aysel’s cloak with the careful respect of one guarding his mate.

He tossed the used handkerchief toward Olivia, his expression calm, almost casual. Gone was the predatory cruelty from moments ago, replaced by an unsettling, serene detachment.

“Ms. Darkmoon,” he said lightly, “seven years ago, your so-called ‘saving my life’ almost got me killed.”

He remembered the chaos of that night, running wounded through the city, leaping from balconies to escape hunters, blood painting the streets. The memory of her naivety then made him smirk with wolfish disdain.

“More importantly,” he continued, voice low and hard as frost, “how dare you suggest making my precious Aysel some hidden, shadowed mistress?”

The thought alone set his teeth on edge. Aysel was no one’s pawn. Not hers. Not anyone’s. Only the finest, the truest, would ever touch her life.

He passed close to Olivia, who still lay curled and shivering on the ground, her instincts screaming retreat. Her eyes followed his movement, wide with terror, the scent of fear unmistakable to a wolf like Magnus.

He chuckled, cold and cutting, and moved on, cloak in hand, intent on finding Aysel. Even if Olivia had truly saved him back then, even if she believed herself clever enough to manipulate him with that debt, Magnus was no man to be swayed by sentiment. Wolves respected strength, territory, and heart, not empty claims of past favors.

“I’m sorry.”

Aysel’s voice met him as he turned, steady and unshaken. The apology from Damon was strange in its

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weight; so many times he had murmured regret and yet only this time did it feel sincere. Perhaps it was the sharp taste of being outmaneuvered, of losing the one he protected to another, that made him honest.

“Aysel!” he gripped her wrist as she attempted to leave, eyes shadowed with regret. “If… if I had realized my mistake sooner, could we have avoided this path?”

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