He was one of the enforcers who’d handled last night’s rogue incident. Apparently, fate wanted to make a spectacle of me.
“You know Aysel?” Damon turned sharply.
“What trouble did she cause last time?” Alpha Remus growled, his patience snapping.
Fenrir scoffed. “The Enforcer Hall might as well give her a permanent cell. Does she think she’s still in her rebellious phase?”
They condemned me easily, their words sharp and practiced.
Only Celestine lowered her lashes, her voice soft and careful. “Please, Father. Don’t jump to conclusions. Aysel’s still young. She just acts on emotion sometimes.”
“Still young? She’s twenty-three.” Remus slammed his hand on the table. “If only she had half your discipline, Celestine, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”
“Whoa, hold up,” the enforcer interrupted, clearly offended. “Who said she was arrested? The girl was attacked by rogues last night. Nearly mauled. She’s lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for a passerby helping her-and his lawyer stepping in-those bastards might’ve turned the story against her.”
He shook his head, muttering, “Her arm’s still bandaged. Poor thing was covered in blood when we found her. Didn’t even flinch during questioning. Just sat there quietly, too damn calm. I thought she was an orphan-turns out she’s got family. Huh. Some family you are.”
His last words landed like claws across every smug face in the room.
For the first time, silence fell.
They suddenly remembered how pale I’d been when I walked in. No one had even asked.
“She was hurt?” Luna Evelyn’s voice faltered.
“It’s nothing,” I said softly. “Just a few scratches.”
In truth, the rogues had fared far worse.
The enforcer continued, oblivious to the growing tension. “She was terrified. Said someone was following her, but none of her family answered the calls. Guess all your comms were off. The man who helped her had to bail her out himself. Damn shame.”
Every word struck like a blow.
Damon’s face drained of color. I could see the moment the realization hit him-that call. The one he’d brushed off, thinking I was just being dramatic.
He’d told me not to “make a scene.” And I’d hung up, shaking, surrounded by rogues.
We’d once promised-no matter what, we’d never ignore each other’s call.
He’d broken that vow.
Alpha Remus cleared his throat, the edge gone from his voice. “Come home for supper tonight, Aysel. We’ll make your favorites.”
Lykos shifted uncomfortably. “Those rogues got caught, right?”
The enforcer nodded.
Fenrir’s tone turned hard. “Then I demand they face full punishment. And the male who saved my sister-his name? We owe him our gratitude.”
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “Save it. I won’t be coming home. You all play family well enough without me. Goodbye.”
I turned, waving once, a sharp flick of defiance.
“Aysel!” Damon started after me, but Celestine caught his wrist.
“This is my fault,” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “If I hadn’t been injured last night, you wouldn’t have had to leave her alone. She’s angry now, but she’ll calm down. She loves you too much to stay mad. Just give her time.”
“Yes,” Luna Evelyn agreed, patting her daughter’s hand. “Let her be. She’ll come around, she always does. You did the right thing, Damon. A sick Luna-to-be’s sister takes priority over a tantrum.”
Celestine lowered her gaze humbly, though I could feel the satisfaction rolling off her scent even from the doorway.
Three years ago, she’d fallen into the sea during a voyage-along with her former mate.
He’d died saving Damon. Celestine had survived, but woke up calling Damon by her dead lover’s name.
Her mind fractured. Her heart, perhaps not.
Last night, she’d relapsed again after her accident, calling out for that ghost of a man. Evelyn had summoned Damon to calm her down-right in the middle of our coronation ceremony
They all thought it was reasonable. Logical. Justified.
If given the choice again, they’d still choose her.
Because Celestine Ward, the Moonvale darling, was always the fragile one worth saving.
And I, Aysel Vale-the unwanted heiress-was always the one they could afford to lose.
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.
Celestine Ward’s mother – Luna Evelyn’s elder sister, Yuna – had once been promised to Alpha Remus. But something went wrong during their courtship. Instead, the younger sister, Evelyn, took her place as Luna of Moonvale.
Yuna married another man – a gambler, a brute who used fists more than reason. After years of violence, she fled with her newborn daughter, Celestine. Moonvale took them in.
Then, on Aysel’s sixth birthday, tragedy struck. Yuna died in a carriage accident while searching for the little Aysel who’d run away during her own celebration.
That was the day everything changed.
Moonvale, heavy with guilt, adopted Celestine. Treated her not as an orphan, but as redemption. In every record, her life sparkled – gifts, praise, endless affection.
Even Aysel’s brothers – Fenrir and Lykos – grew to dote on Celestine more than their own blood sister.
I stared at the two photographs laid side by side – one of a chubby-cheeked cub grinning with sunlight in her eyes, the other of a teenage wolf with guarded, hollow ones.
My gaze darkened.
I reached up and rubbed the faint mark still burning along my temple. The same spot where that little hellcat had slammed me with her head just last night.
She had fought like a wild thing cornered – all fangs and fury. The kind of defiance that drew blood and respect in equal measure.
I could still see her eyes then – blazing gold, feral, untamed. A little wolf daring to bare her teeth at a predator far above her rank.
A growl rumbled in my throat, low and involuntary.
Yes… this version of her, the one with fire in her blood and rebellion in her scent, was far more interesting than the puppet they once raised.
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