He rose swiftly, intention sharp, ready to confront Aysel-but Lykos’ dry remark halted him.
“Hah, what’s Aysel plotting now? Even using a stranger in her games. Clever little wolf.”
Damon’s amber eyes narrowed as he watched Celestine bite her lip, her small frame tense.
“Who doesn’t know Aysel has wanted you since she was a cub?” Lykos growled under his breath, muscles coiling. “This time… she clearly sought out someone just to rile you up. Damon, how could you fall for it so easily?”
Celestine shook her head slightly, fangs pressing lightly against her lower lip, a subtle sign of suppressed irritation and unease. “Maybe Aysel is angry… but she shouldn’t play games like this. She is still a young she-wolf,” she murmured, her voice soft yet tinged with steel.
Damon’s fists clenched at his sides. Concern clouded his judgment; he could feel the heat of his blood, the surge of his Alpha instincts. For nearly twenty cycles, he had known Aysel. She would never truly seek another mate-her moves were deliberate, meant to provoke him, to test his dominance. And he had risen to the bait. The stranger’s voice on the call had ignited a storm in his chest, a pack-born rage he could barely contain.
“She doesn’t apologize, and she won’t,” Lykos interjected sharply, fangs glinting. “Damon, you cannot forgive her this time.”
No other pack sibling feud had ever escalated to this-Celestine had ended up in the healer’s den because of Aysel. The Vale she-wolf constantly rewrote the rules of audacity.
Damon pressed his lips together, holding the weight of his Alpha restraint. To bend Aysel, to force her to lower her head even for a moment over a dispute about territory-about an estate-was near impossible. Her wolf was stubborn, territorial, and cunning.
“She doesn’t even want to face me,” he admitted, his gaze darkening with the shadows of worry.
Lykos shrugged, unfazed, his ears twitching at the scent of rising tension. “Hiding won’t help. The anniversary of our aunt’s passing is approaching.”
Damon’s shoulders stiffened. He knew that day-the scent-heavy memory of grief, the shadowed wolf-heart of Aysel-it was the day she carried the deepest sorrow. Every year, it clawed at her like a hunter cornered, and she would surface, no matter the machinations of the pack.
Aysel’s POV
I rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, yawning as the shadows of evening crept into the apartment. It was nearly eight o’clock, yet I had slept like a wolf hibernating through the day, every muscle loose and exhausted.
Stepping out of my bedroom, I froze mid-step. A man-tall, imposing, and radiating cold authority-stood on my narrow balcony, speaking into a phone. Even without the lights on, his presence was sharp enough to cut through the dim, a spine-chilling chill that clawed along my skin.
I blinked at him, then muttered under my breath, “Who the hell are you?”
“Magnus Sanchez,” he turned to me and said casually, as if he’d read my thoughts before I spoke them.
I blinked. The name… Shadowbane Pack. The legendary Alpha. The ruthless, merciless wolf that ruled the continent’s most feared pack. My ears twitched involuntarily. “You… you’re the Alpha of Shadowbane Pack? The one everyone says is cold-blooded and kills without hesitation?”
His expression flickered the slightest hint of amusement. “Guilty as charged.”
I sucked in a breath and turned sharply toward the kitchen, reminding myself: don’t look weak. Not here, not in front of a predator like him.
Meanwhile, another man’s voice carried faintly from the phone, updating him about the chaos my… unexpected actions had caused. Word had spread that Magnus had gone missing, badly injured, and now Conor Sanchez was making his rounds among shareholders, scheming to sway loyalties.
Magnus’s gaze followed me as I moved, lazily cool. “Ignore his little games, Jackson” he said, voice smooth, dangerous. “The higher he climbs, the harder he falls.”
“Alpha, you shouldn’t be exposing yourself like this right now. Don’t you want to retreat to… Shadowbane Court for recuperation?” the man named Jacckson asked, I guess it should be the secluded estate he owned-staff and healers always on call, and a place so massive that even a single room outshone my whole apartment.
“I have my own arrangements,” he said simply, eyes flicking to mine for a moment before returning to the night outside. “Keep your eyes on Conor.”
I nearly touched the boiling pot on the stove, lost in my own thoughts, when suddenly Magnus’s hand shot forward. He grabbed my wrist, and the warmth of his huge frame pressed against me as the small kitchen shrank around us. My elbow accidentally jabbed him in the stomach.
“What-what are you doing?!” I exclaimed, startled.
He made a low hum, unfazed. “I can’t have perfectly good dumplings tainted by the scent of burnt meat,” he said, and calmly reached behind me to switch off the gas.
I blinked, realizing that if he hadn’t caught me, I would have scorched my arm. I gave a small, reluctant smile and grabbed the opened dumpling package. “Fine, fine… since the generous Alpha is saving my life, you’ll eat dinner too,” I said, deliberately mimicking
Jackson’s tone.
He raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement curling his lips. “You’re inviting your savior to dinner… and that’s all?”
I froze, realizing I hadn’t even cooked his portion. “Hey, you are a guest under my roof. Wrapping a few dumplings for you is already mercy. Don’t you dare complain,” I said, lightly elbowing him as a warning.
Magnus finally released me from his embrace and straightened, leaning against the fridge. “Ten million,” he said casually.
I paused mid-motion, turning to glare at him with wide, golden eyes. My pack wasn’t poor, but I was down to my last reserves after buying this place outright.
Magnus’s gaze softened slightly at the intensity of my stare, though I caught the faint glimmer of amusement. “Consider it your lodging and meals while I stay here,” he clarified.
I huffed, suddenly bending over the stove again. “Yes, yes, my great benefactor. Please enjoy your meal.”
I shepherded him back to the sofa, then picked up my phone to order takeout.
“As the great Alpha, don’t you deserve at least one home-cooked meal from me?” I teased, though inwardly I knew my culinary skills were laughable.
Magnus tilted his head, pretending to be displeased. “You only make three dishes, right?”
“Exactly. Fried dumplings, boiled dumplings, pan-fried dumplings.” I said innocently, as if that somehow counted.
Aysel’s POV
I watched him glance at the takeout menu with that faint look of disdain, and my mind immediately started calculating. “Maybe I could hire a personal cook” -give them twenty thousand a month-and still make a little cut for myself as middlewoman. Easy.
“Not interested,” Magnus said flatly, cutting me off before I could even finish my thought. “I don’t like strangers in my space.”
I blinked. Well, that was… Magnus Sanchez for you. The Shadowbane Alpha. Cold as ice, meticulous as a wolf tracking prey, yet somehow, he could make my small kitchen feel even smaller.
We sat in silence on the sofa for five long minutes, eyes locked like two wolves measuring territory. Finally, Magnus sighed, reaching across to cover my wide, bright eyes with a heavy hand. The decision was final. “Order takeout. Buy groceries. I’ll manage.”
Half an hour later, I leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled, watching him in the cramped kitchen. He was actually… cooking. My chest tightened with a mix of disbelief and pride. Somehow, having the Alpha of Shadowbane Pack cooking dinner in my tiny apartment felt… domestic. Wolfish, almost.
I couldn’t help but worry. Yesterday he had bled so much. And looking at him now, effortlessly moving among the counters and chopping boards, I kept expecting disaster to strike. My dinner could easily have turned into a one-headed wolf’s feast if something went wrong.
Magnus caught my hesitation and, with a smirk, shoved a freshly washed tomato into my hands. “Try it. See if I can handle it,” he teased.
“Try what?” My brain stalled for a moment.
When I registered the mischief in his gaze, I rolled my eyes and stalked off to the living room, leaving him alone in the kitchen with his antics. The Alpha’s chuckle followed me.
The kitchen was open, and I instinctively reached for my phone. Magnus glanced over, remembering something he’d “forgotten” because of dinner. “Your phone was ringing when you were asleep. I answered it.”
I blinked. “You… answered my phone? Without permission?”
He didn’t look fazed, expertly flipping a pan. “Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing, and it was disturbing my rest. Someone refused to wake up, so I intervened.”
“Besides,” he added, feigning innocence, “I took a few verbal hits for you.”
I scrolled through the call log, expression neutral. It wasn’t surprising. My mother hadn’t yelled enough at me this morning, so the family apparently decided to take turns calling in rapid succession. Even Knox Draven, Celestine’s little lapdog, had joined the chorus. News of me sending Celestine to the emergency room had traveled fast.
If Magnus were my subordinate, this would count as on-the-job hazard pay. But he wasn’t. He was Alpha, Shadowbane Alpha. Capital and power wrapped in human form.
“So… you yelled back for me?” I asked casually, shrugging.
“Nope,” he said, still calm, flipping a vegetable with precision. “How could I demand payment if I hadn’t even vented my anger?”
I shrugged harder. “Then the deal’s clear-you only do it if I give you a reward.”
He leaned back, pondering, a faintly amused glint in his golden eyes. “So… if I insult your family for you, you’ll pay me?”
I answered immediately. “Yep.”
Magnus picked up his phone and called Jackson, issuing a single command: insult the Vale family.
I could almost see Jackson’s face through the call. The task was absurd, juvenile, yet he obeyed. He hired a few skilled voices to run through the list Magnus provided, each taking turns, lashing the Vale family with a precision that made even a wolf like me smirk.
Then I can imagine the scene: in the hospital, Celestine sat with Damon and Lykos, Fenrir was handling the old estate issues, the Moonvale elders attended a temporary dinner, and Knox Draven nursed his wine-all their phones buzzing in unison with the results of Magnus’s little operation.
Back in my kitchen, Magnus’s cooking impressed me. Three dishes, one soup, and even a chili chicken adjusted perfectly to my palate. My mouth watered. A wolf of his caliber should have been clumsy with mundane tasks, yet his hands were deft, efficient, and even gentle when necessary.
For once, I felt a strange sense of domesticity. Sharing a meal with Magnus Sanchez in my home felt almost… warm. Wolf warmth.
After dinner, I cleaned up the battlefield, hands finally washed, and Magnus, lounging on the sofa, beckoned me over with a simple gesture, his fingers curling like a wolf claiming territory.
“What now?” I asked, slowly approaching.
“To collect proof of payment,” he said, eyes glinting.
Jackson had already filtered through the recorded calls and videos, selecting the ones with the most impact and creativity. Side by side on the sofa, Magnus played the first clip.
The sound and scenes of Alpha Remus exploding in anger filled the room. I froze, staring at the screen. The Vale patriarch, usually untouchable, had just been verbally eviscerated by Alpha Magnus. I had to suppress a laugh.
This was life with Magnus Sanchez. Dangerous, wild, and utterly… wolf.
Magnus’s POV
I watched the videos with a measured calm, but inside, a low rumble of satisfaction stirred. The voices on the line, Jackson’s carefully selected proxies, didn’t pause for breath-they tore into the Valefamily with an unrelenting barrage of words. “Blind and foolish, incapable of managing their own den, unfilial, unworthy…” The list was endless, unique, and sharp as a wolf’s fang.
I could sense their defenses, even across the distance. They had blocked unknown numbers, switched off phones, tried backup lines. Clever wolves, but my team was cleverer. They were persistent hunters, shadowing their prey with surgical precision. The audio, loud enough to bleed into the moonlit banquet, drew awkward glances. I allowed a corner of my lip to twitch. Discomfort was delicious.
Alpha Remus and his mate looked thoroughly humiliated, slinking from the hall with tails tucked, faces flushed. Even he-so refined and self-contained-let loose a curse, smashing his own phone in anger.
At the hospital, Celestine Ward nearly spewed blood from frustration as my proxies called her family with sharp, cutting words: “Homewrecker, false heiress, thief of nests, evil wolf…” I could hear Lykos and Damon scrambling, frantic, trying to revive the situation.
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