The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 74

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 74**

In the grand expanse of Moonvale Hall, Magnus’s laughter echoed, a sound reminiscent of distant thunder—deep, chilling, and imbued with an undeniable authority. The shimmering chandeliers above seemed to quiver in response, as if even they sensed the weight of his presence. For Alpha Remus and his son Fenrir, that laughter was not merely an expression of mirth; it felt like the whisper of a deity, one who had long since abandoned the notion of mercy.

“Well then,” Magnus intoned, his voice laced with a dark amusement that sent ripples of unease through the assembled crowd. “If this is all a misunderstanding, why not summon the Luna and her companions? It is, after all, a birthday feast.”

His words sliced through the air like a finely honed blade, deceptively swathed in silk.

The tension in the hall was palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on everyone present—the quiet fury of the Shadowbane Alpha radiating from him like a storm about to unleash its fury.

Seated beside him, Aysel remained composed, her golden eyes cast downward, reflecting a calmness akin to still water.

The wolves of Moonvale, blissfully unaware of the tempest that had been summoned by their mockery and betrayal of her name and lineage, sat in ignorance of the storm now residing next to her.

Magnus continued, his lips curling into a slight smile that held no warmth. “It would be a pity for them to miss this grand celebration. After all, the Moonvale Pack prides itself on unity, does it not?”

Fenrir swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Lord Magnus, my mother… she’s not in any state to—”

Magnus tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not convenient? Then perhaps my men can lend a hand.”

With a subtle shift of his posture, he commanded, “Jackson.”

From the shadows that clung to the edges of the hall, Jackson emerged, flanked by several enforcers of the Shadowbane Guard. Clad in black suits, their silver sigils gleamed ominously, their presence filling the room with an aura of power that felt almost tangible, like smoke curling around the unsuspecting.

“Yes, Alpha,” Jackson replied smoothly, bowing with a practiced grace. “We’ll bring them down.”

Alpha Remus and Fenrir stiffened, a sense of foreboding washing over them. The elder attempted to rise from his seat, but the mere presence of the guards seemed to weigh him down, forcing him back into submission.

A ripple of unease coursed through the onlookers, their eyes darting between the imposing figure of Magnus and the Alpha who had once denied Aysel her rightful place.

“You can’t—” Remus began, his voice cracking under the strain of his mounting anxiety.

Magnus merely smiled, a chilling expression devoid of warmth. “Can’t I?” His tone was deceptively mild, yet the glacial intensity of his pale wolf eyes betrayed a far darker intent.

“Let them come, Alpha,” he added, his voice a soft caress that belied the storm brewing beneath. “Surely your Luna would wish to witness her daughter’s triumph.”

From the dais, Aysel lifted her head, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow across her delicate features. The slender curve of her throat was visible beneath the white silk of her gown, lending her an ethereal quality, almost fragile. Yet when she spoke, her voice resonated with the quiet authority of lineage reborn.

“Father,” she said, her tone almost gentle, “I only wished for Mother to wish me a happy birthday. Is that truly so wrong?”

Her words fell upon the gathered crowd like frost descending upon a still winter morning. The murmur of the audience grew, their eyes flicking nervously between Aysel and the Alpha who had once cast her aside. Even the most hardened wolves felt a pang of discomfort at the scene unfolding before them.

As she lowered her gaze, her lashes quivered, giving her an appearance of sorrow. Yet, only Magnus could perceive the subtle glint of cunning that danced within her golden eyes.

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