The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 7

Magnus’s POV

The full file on Aysel Vale spread out before me.

The thick stack of reports lay across my desk, the scent of old parchment and wolf musk mixing faintly in the air. My claws drummed against the edge of the folder — a slow, rhythmic sound echoing through the dim-lit office of the Shadowbane Pack fortress.

I flipped through the documents, my sharp eyes catching every line, every photograph, every little piece of the puzzle that made up this strange she-wolf’s life.

Her story fell into three clear phases.

Before she turned six, she was the Moonvale Pack’s only daughter — the little princess everyone adored, raised under the constant warmth of Alpha Remus and Luna Evelyn’s protection. Bright. Spirited. Playful. The kind of light that drew eyes wherever she went.

But everything changed after Celestine Ward arrived.

Moonvale adopted her — the daughter of Luna Evelyn’s sister Yuna. From that moment, Aysel’s light dimmed. She stopped appearing at gatherings, kept her head down, and became a quiet shadow. While the pack and the world sang praises of Moonvale’s beloved daughter — Celestine — Aysel disappeared behind closed doors.

In every record, she was obedient to the point of self-erasure. A puppet with clipped strings.

Until she turned seventeen.

Something — no one knows what — must have snapped inside her. She rebelled. The quiet, pliant girl became fierce, even cruel by some accounts. Her conflicts with Celestine grew open and frequent. She defied her family, clawed at the gilded cage they’d locked her in. After college, she left Moonvale altogether, moving to the city and cutting all ties.

I leaned back, the chair creaking beneath me.

Jackson, my beta and ever-dutiful shadow, gave his report in a measured tone but couldn’t resist adding, “The Moonvale sisters have… quite the reputation contrast, Alpha. Celestine Ward, gentle and brilliant — the pride of the pack. Aysel Vale, however… impulsive, reckless, and notoriously difficult.”

My lips curved, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner.

“Foolish,” I muttered.

Jackson wisely said nothing.

Everyone in this land knew what my word meant. As the heir to the Shadowbane Pack — the strongest force on the continent — my voice could shake mountains, bend loyalties, decide who lived or died. Entire packs shifted when I raised a brow.

So why, of all things, was I sitting here, reading about a wolf woman from a minor pack?

The thought would’ve amused me — if it didn’t feel so dangerous.

Aysel Vale.

The name tasted strange on my tongue.

Jackson must have felt my mood turn because he kept silent, but I caught the flicker of unease in his eyes. He was likely thinking what everyone else would — that any she-wolf caught in my attention would be cursed, not blessed.

I ignored him and turned back to the page detailing her bloodline.

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