The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 52

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 52**

**Aysel’s POV**

The instant Luna Evelyn dared to delve into the shadows of our past, I caught the flicker of discomfort that danced across her features. It was a fleeting moment, but one I had come to recognize all too well. She absentmindedly rubbed her nose, a nervous habit she had clung to, unable to shake off the telltale sign of her unease.

“You really are one to hold a grudge, aren’t you, Aysel?” she remarked, her voice a curious blend of laughter and defensiveness. “Those were merely words spoken in the heat of the moment. Do you honestly believe we would demand repayment for your modest upbringing? Over a handful of coins?”

Her tone was light, almost dismissive, yet beneath that facade, I could feel the sharp undercurrent of guilt that clung to her like a persistent shadow—cold and biting, reminiscent of frostbite on a winter’s night. The memories surged just beneath the surface: the shares in the Moonvale Trading Syndicate that had once belonged to me, now quietly transferred to Celestine Ward. The scent of betrayal hung thick in the air, as vivid as blood staining a pristine, white canvas.

After a brief silence, Evelyn’s voice softened, almost taking on a conciliatory tone. “When you and Damon are finally mated, your father and I will ensure that your five percent is restored. That should set things right, don’t you think?”

A humorless laugh escaped my lips, low and edged with the primal growl of my wolf. “So, what was given freely at eighteen must now be repurchased through my marriage? Tell me, Luna Evelyn, is that truly what you consider fairness?”

Her demeanor shifted, and I could see her hackles raised, the tension thickening like the air before a storm. “Must you always speak with such venom? If you hadn’t brought ruin upon your aunt—or bullied poor Celestine—none of this would have transpired. That share rightfully belongs to her. Are you suggesting that your aunt’s life holds less value than a few scraps of ownership?”

“And this notion of trading my marriage for restitution—do you truly want others to perceive your father and me as the kind of people who barter our daughter’s future like livestock? You and Damon grew up together. You once adored him. Isn’t this what you’ve always longed for?”

“They didn’t tell you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “Damon and I ended our bond.”

Evelyn blinked in surprise, her eyes widening as she waved my words away as if they were nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing around her head. “You young wolves are so impulsive. I heard about the coronation. You overreacted—just because he left for the infirmary? I was the one who called him there, Aysel. Celestine needed him. Don’t be so petty. One day, you will be Luna of the Blackwood Pack. Try to act like it—stop letting jealousy drive your claws.”

My lips curled in disdain. If our roles were reversed—if Celestine were the one left behind—Evelyn would label her as fragile, wronged, and deserving of solace. But when it was me? I was merely “petty.”

“Then I hope,” I said, my voice dropping to a soft, dangerous whisper, “that one day something similar occurs to Father, and you can exhibit the same generosity.”

Her eyes flared with indignation, the fire within her igniting. “Aysel Vale!”

Her chest heaved with anger, the scent of ozone thickening the air around us, a storm brewing in her heart. Yet, she swallowed her fury, recalling the purpose of her visit.

“I came to inform you that you are to return home tomorrow,” she stated stiffly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We are hosting a feast to celebrate your twenty-third moonday. It is time the packs were informed of your engagement to Damon. The invitations have already been dispatched.”

“I told you,” I replied coldly, “there is no engagement. I will not marry him.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, her patience wearing thin. “Don’t be childish. The invitations are already sent.”

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