The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 88

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 88**

In the hushed shadows of the Moonvale Pack, the true daughter had remained a ghost for years, her presence barely a whisper. Yet, when she finally revealed her true self, it sent shockwaves through the entire wolf aristocracy, leaving them reeling in disbelief.

Moonvale had been granted an opportunity that many could only dream of—a direct path to the heavens. Yet, in their blind and foolish favoritism, they watched helplessly as their own flesh and blood, their daughter, toppled that ladder with a single, powerful blow.

The humiliation of their downfall spread through the upper packs like a relentless winter plague—swift, sharp, and utterly impossible to contain.

Initially, the sight of Magnus showering Aysel Vale with gifts and effortlessly crushing any rivals in his path ignited a fierce envy among the wolves. They watched with burning eyes, consumed by jealousy. But as the grand banquet drew to a close, the tide of gossip shifted, revealing a darker undercurrent.

Only mockery remained for the Moonvale Pack, a bitter aftertaste left in the mouths of those who had once revered them.

What keen instincts they had, favoring the wrong wolf so completely, so thoroughly. Many wolves, in hushed tones, began to marvel at the once-forgotten trueborn daughter who had, in her first public appearance, set the world ablaze with her defiance.

It was almost poetic, in a way, that she had captured the attention of Magnus Sanchez. Both Aysel and the Shadowbane Alpha were creatures of ruthless ambition, each with a heart that beat with an unyielding ferocity.

Meanwhile, at the grand stone hall of the Shadowbane Pack, the atmosphere at the Sanchez family breakfast table was anything but tranquil. Rudi, the youngest daughter, stole a glance toward the head of the table, where her father, Bastien, sat in silence, his demeanor as rigid as the stone beneath them.

A playful mischief sparkled in her eyes as she leaned closer to her siblings and cousins, her voice a conspiratorial whisper that carried across half the table. “That girl Magnus brought home a few days ago is something else. I heard she turned her own pack upside down and even declared she’d sever all ties with them—”

The sudden crack of chopsticks hitting the stone table silenced her. Bastien’s frustration reverberated through the hall, causing everyone to flinch in unison.

“Shut that mouth. Less gossip. More sense,” he snapped, his glare directed sharply at Rudi.

As if he were oblivious to the chaos that had erupted at the Moonvale banquet. The news of Magnus, the Crown Prince of the Shadowbane wolves, raging over Aysel’s plight had spread like wildfire across the continent, leaving no wolf untouched by its flames. The spectacular fireworks display that lit up the night sky had been impossible to ignore, a vivid reminder of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

He longed to intervene, to put a stop to the madness, but who among them could hope to restrain Magnus now? Certainly not this collection of fools he begrudgingly called family. A blade was poised at their throats, yet instead of focusing on survival, they chose to stoke the fires of their own discontent.

Rudi huffed, her demeanor reminiscent of a spoiled wolf pup, indignant and bristling. “Magnus’s mate will be the future Luna Matriarch of the entire Sanchez line. How can a rootless, disrespectful girl like her enter our den? I’m thinking for his sake, as an elder!”

The memory of Aysel’s sharp tongue and unyielding presence during her last visit stirred a fierce indignation within Rudi. If that woman were to step into their family, her cherished position as the only daughter would be jeopardized, and she couldn’t bear the thought.

Ulric Sanchez, Magnus’s father, poured a cup of soy milk for Bastien, his voice icy as he spoke. “That Aysel Vale… her background truly is lacking.”

In truth, with Magnus’s formidable power, he had no need for political alliances. The lineage of his mate mattered little in the grand scheme of things. A mate of lower birth would be easier to control—much like the soft and pliable Raya had once been. But Aysel Vale? She was a creature of thorns, sharp and fiercely independent, impossible to tame.

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