The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 54

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**

**Chapter 54**

As the first light of dawn broke through the thin curtains of Aysel’s unassuming home, the peaceful stillness of the early morning was suddenly shattered by the sharp, insistent ring of the doorbell. It was a sound that heralded chaos, and chaos it was indeed. Jackson, the ever-reliable aide, stood at the threshold, flanked by a vibrant team of stylists, tailors, and attendants, each one bustling with an air of urgency. They arrived bearing sleek, polished cases filled to the brim with exquisite gowns and dazzling accessories—pieces that shimmered like captured starlight, crafted from moonstone and silver that seemed to hum with a life of their own.

The quaint apartment, usually a sanctuary of simplicity, transformed into a whirlwind of activity in mere moments. Racks of opulent attire and intricately jeweled collars were hastily arranged in the narrow corridor, their brilliance starkly contrasting the humble surroundings. The air, typically redolent with the comforting scents of home-cooked meals and fresh linens, was now infused with the heady aroma of luxurious perfumes, mingling awkwardly with the earthy scent of rosemary lingering in the kitchen.

A palpable tension hung in the air as the attendants exchanged nervous glances, their thoughts racing with unspoken fears. Surely, the formidable Alpha of Shadowbane would not choose to bring his chosen mate into such a cramped mortal dwelling? Yet, Jackson’s earlier warning echoed ominously in their minds: “Today, everything revolves around Miss Vale. No gawking, no whispering, and definitely no prying where you shouldn’t.”

Lisa, the head stylist from the renowned Beauty Atelier, had nodded firmly when Jackson had laid down the law. She had dressed royalty and Alphas before, but this assignment was unlike any she had ever encountered. Magnus Sanchez had made a rare request for an in-home service, and for a woman—his woman. The whispers of the capital would surely echo with this news for weeks, if not months.

Her competitors at the Runeclaw Couture House had long boasted of their connections with the high packs, but today, Lisa was determined to outshine them all. If she could impress the Alpha of Shadowbane, she would seize control of the fashion world by nightfall.

With her head held high and purpose in her stride, Lisa stepped into the den, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, each sound a reminder of the high stakes at play. No matter how challenging Aysel might prove to be, she resolved to make her shine brilliantly enough to make even the full moon feel shy.

Then, her gaze landed on Aysel.

Aysel lay half-curled on the sofa, her eyes barely open and wrapped snugly in a delicate blanket of twilight silk. Her hair flowed like liquid moonlight, shimmering softly against the pale backdrop of her skin, which stood in stark contrast to the dark cushions beneath her. The faint, electric pulse of her dormant Alpha scent hummed across the room—restrained yet undeniably potent.

And beside her—

Magnus Sanchez, the legendary Alpha of Shadowbane, was crouched beside her, one knee resting on the couch while his hand gripped her slender ankle with an almost possessive gentleness. The muscles in his bare forearm tensed, veins pulsing subtly with the shifting energy of his wolf. The atmosphere was thick with tension, dominance, and surprisingly, the sharp scent of lemon.

It appeared he had attempted to rouse her with a wedge of sour citrus.

Still groggy from her slumber, Aysel had retaliated with a swift kick—directly into the Alpha’s backside.

To Lisa’s utter dismay, as she pushed open the door, that very scene was frozen before her: the Moonvale female glaring with indignation, and Magnus, unfazed, holding her captive ankle with an almost amused expression.

The entire team froze, their metaphorical tails tucked between their legs, caught in the act of witnessing something both audacious and surreal.

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