The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 31

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 31**

**Aysel’s POV**

The atmosphere around the table was thick with tension, a palpable uncertainty hanging in the air. A group of lower-ranking Ironhowl wolves shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting back and forth between Knox Draven and me. It was a silent battle of wills, as they weighed the risks against the potential rewards. Finally, one of them broke the silence, his voice dripping with hesitance. “Knox, are you sure you know these two?”

Knox’s response came with a dark, mocking laugh that didn’t quite reach the depths of his eyes. “Afraid?” he sneered, revealing his sharp canines under the dim red glow of the lights. “What’s there to fear? One’s a bastard daughter abandoned by her father, and the other’s a stray mutt tossed out by her Pack. You could take them right here, and I doubt anyone would lift a finger to stop you.”

The wolves surrounding us shifted uneasily, their senses picking up on the cruelty that dripped from Knox’s words. His gaze raked over me and Skylar, each glance feeling like a claw scraping against our skin. “Pretty shells, that’s all they are. You should see the filth they hide beneath their skin. And that one in the red—”

But he never finished his thought.

**Crash!**

The sound echoed through the bar as a beer bottle shattered against Knox’s skull with a satisfying crack. Amber liquid mixed with blood cascaded down his face, and through the chaos of his injury, I smiled at him—sweet, radiant, and a little bit unhinged.

“Well then,” I said, my voice lilting and almost sing-song, “since you already know I’m crazy, you should also understand this—crazy wolves don’t follow laws.”

The moment those words slipped from my lips, the crowd erupted into chaos. Screams sliced through the haze of music, a cacophony of panic. Someone shouted, “Murder!” and the atmosphere exploded into a frenzy. Chairs scraped violently against the floor, wolves stumbled over one another, instincts taking over as fear surged through the room like a tidal wave.

In an instant, the pack hierarchy was flipped upside down.

Ironhowl wolves were not accustomed to being challenged, especially not by someone from the Moonvale Pack. I could feel their uncertainty ripple around us, a mix of fear and disbelief that was almost intoxicating. A female daring to strike a male Alpha—such an act was unheard of in their rigid world.

Knox lay on the ground, groaning, blood pooling around him like a dark halo. The rest of the pack froze, two already nursing wounds from earlier skirmishes, while the others hesitated, wary of making the next move.

They exchanged glances between Skylar and me, their calculations evident, but no one wanted to be the first to test us.

Skylar stood beside me, exuding an aura of winter—cold, lethal, and breathtakingly beautiful. “What’s the matter, boys?” she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t you come here to drink? Don’t tell me you’re already done.”

The scent of fear wafted off them, thick and cloying. One particularly rotund wolf, his eyes glinting with greed, spat defiantly, “You dare touch Knox Draven? The Ironhowl Alpha will hunt you down!”

I crouched low, lifting the jagged edge of the broken bottle. The shards caught the light, glimmering like fangs ready to strike. “Then he’d better hurry,” I replied softly, the words dripping with menace. “Because I don’t keep debts overnight.”

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, a primal hunger for violence awakening within me. The predator in me was alert, instincts sharp and unwavering. I stepped forward, and the packlings instinctively stepped back, their bravado faltering.

“Drink,” I commanded, my voice firm and unyielding. “Didn’t you want a toast? Drink your own damn liquor.”

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