The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 71

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 71**

The question lingered in the atmosphere, curling and twisting like swirling smoke—were they genuinely what the crowd perceived them to be?

An uneasy silence enveloped the ballroom, thick with tension. No one dared to voice their thoughts, yet every pair of eyes was aflame with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Across the vast expanse of the ballroom, two Alphas stood in stark opposition—one, Damon, radiated pride, while the other, Magnus, exuded raw power. An invisible electricity sparked between them, crackling with unspoken animosity. Beneath the surface, Damon’s fury simmered, a molten core ready to erupt, while Magnus regarded him with the icy detachment of a predator who had already claimed victory.

Magnus’s eyes glimmered like silver under the flickering torchlight, devoid of any warmth, brimming instead with contempt.

He had no desire to acknowledge Damon, his former rival. The very essence of Damon’s existence—his relentless struggle for supremacy, his desperate attempts to assert his status and titles—was trivial in Magnus’s eyes. Let the Eastern Alpha cling to his delusions of control; Magnus had obliterated those illusions the moment he set foot in Moonvale’s territory, a fact he relished.

“Let go,” Magnus finally commanded, his voice low and menacing, resonating through the very bones of those who heard it.

In response, Damon’s grip on Aysel’s wrist tightened, his fingers digging in as if to anchor himself amidst the chaos. The bond scars on his arm flared to life, a vivid reminder of his primal rage. Deep within the recesses of his mind, he recognized that the turmoil of this night traced back to the Shadowbane family—no tangible proof, only an unwavering certainty that gnawed at him.

Yet, despite this awareness, he found himself unable to rein in his emotions. His anger, jealousy, and the desperate need to reclaim what he had already lost consumed him like an uncontrollable wildfire, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.

Aysel winced under the pressure of his grip, a flicker of pain crossing her features.

Before Magnus could react, Aysel took matters into her own hands. With a swift twist of her knee, she unleashed a precise, brutal kick that connected sharply with Damon’s leg.

The sound of the impact echoed through the hall, a sharp crack that silenced the murmurs of the crowd.

If not for his Alpha reflexes, Damon would have crumbled to one knee before her. Instead, pain shot up his thigh, and humiliation burned within him, hotter than any flame. He turned to Aysel, disbelief etched across his face.

“Aysel…” His voice trembled, raw and wounded. The shock of being struck by the very woman who once stood steadfastly by his side was almost too much to bear, especially in front of the entire Pack Court.

The Blackwood elders surged forward, their expressions a mixture of panic and disbelief. They caught their son before he could retaliate, while Aysel, now liberated from his grasp, strode confidently toward Magnus.

Her steps were deliberate and unhurried, each one radiating defiance, grace, and a quiet, simmering vengeance.

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