Aysel's POV The car purred out from the Vale estate garage. By the time I maneuvered it back onto the road, there she was-Celestine, standing right in front of my wheels. Her skirt was still stained, her hair plastered with remnants of our last encounter. Yet that smug, victorious aura clung to her like a wolf marking territory. I could almost see the act she must have spun inside the house, wrapping the Moonvale elders in her honeyed words so they'd feel she, the victim, still cared for her "poor little sister." The picture would have looked like perfect domestic harmony-fatherly pride, filial obedience, sibling camaraderie. I killed the engine. For a long second I sat there, palms white on the wheel, watching the shadowed driveway beyond the open doors. Then I opened the door and stepped out. Two wolves, squared off, a heartbeat apart. "Aysel Vale." She purred it, the grin razor-sharp. "I told you, I'll take back everything that belongs to you, one piece at a time. That's what you owe me." I stepped closer until the moonlight carved her cheekbones. "Collecting someone else's scraps-is that victory to you? Do you cherish every thing I touched just because I touched it? Celestine... are you a monster, or just insecure?" Her practiced mask flickered for a breath before she reassembled it. "Humph. Speak as you will. You want Grandmother's house, don't you? Even when the Moonvale shares were transferred to me, you never cared so much. But when I had my ‘accident,' Mother promised me that small estate. Three days later, the deed was mine. A seer said my life path was frail-so I needed something substantial to anchor me. The house was perfect." She tilted her head, letting the venom sink in. "Isn't it funny? Something you coveted for years... simply fell into my paws." I felt a hot wire of anger tighten behind my ribs. I remembered Remus' lips, the way he'd murmured, "Give it to your sister." Not random-preordained. Marriage or no marriage, that house had been promised away. Every negotiation had been a stall. "You think I'll let you have what I've clawed for?" I said, low and close to her. My fingers found her neck before she could fully react-enough to make her eyes go wide, to show the panic I wanted to taste. She flinched, hands coming up. "Aysel-" Her voice trembled. Shadows of that cursed summer flashed behind my lids: peach trees in bloom, cicadas screaming, the basket of herbs, pill bottles scattered, Grandmother gone, Celestine's grin like a wolf in the kill. Childhood innocence shredded. The world had frozen mid-spin. I loosened my grip and stepped back, fangs bared in the moonlight. "You staged a car accident to frame me," I said. "You only had the courage to scratch your own arm." My voice was cold as river ice. "Tonight, you'll pay." Her hands fumbled, then she lunged for the house-stumbling, desperate. She intended to make a scene, to return with a story and wounds to show off. I followed without hurry. When she was halfway across the drive, I slid into my car, doors thudding shut, the engine purring alive like a caged predator. I had noticed how much that upcoming dance competition with Aine mattered to her. Her focus, her ambition, her pride-it was predictable. So I acted. I pulled forward slowly, giving the façade of leaving. She turned-just a heartbeat-and I saw the rehearsed victim in her face, the same ugly grin I'd seen a dozen times in mirrors and crowded rooms. That was the moment I chose. I drove at deliberate speed. The impact was precise and terrible. Celestine screamed as metal met bone; she crumpled, one leg folding under her, hands clawing at the asphalt. Blood bloomed dark against the grit, and glass glittered like broken stars around her. The cameras couldn't catch this. Otherwise, she wouldn't dare flaunt her ugly grin at me. I killed the engine, opened the door, and stepped out only far enough to crouch beside her, close enough that she could see my face. I traced the dark marks on her throat with a fingertip, calm and methodical. "You came hunting me for sport," I said softly. "You never expected someone to bite back." She tried to scramble, hands clawing at the asphalt. "Aysel! What... what are you doing?" I leaned close. "You snuck out to confront me alone... planning to return home with your story rehearsed, wounds to show off. How thoughtful. But I've never spared a wolf who comes hunting me for sport. You know me, sister." Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with pure, metallic fear. "Don't you fear our Alpha? Don't you care if they disown you?" she whimpered. I tilted my head, claws flexing. "Does it even matter now?" Her scream tore through the night-a raw, ragged howl. Pain and terror painted her expression as she clawed at the ground, helpless. By the time the Moonvale Pack arrived, it was over. Celestine lay crumpled, broken, blood mixing with shards of glass from our previous scuffle. And I? I vanished into the night, fangs glinting, the car engine purring like a predator satisfied. The house-my grandmother's gift-remained mine alone, untouched by her claws. Even if it later fell to her by some deceit, she would never lay paw on it while I drew breath. Trade and negotiation were the language of Alpha politics, the kind I'd learned on my own since leaving Moonvale at eighteen. My savings, my strength, my cunning-they were my weapons, far sharper than any silver blade. The thought of being bound to Damon Blackwood, to tangle the rest of my life with his pack... unacceptable. Grandmother's love was meant to bless, not bind. Hours later, I arrived at the estate at the foot of the mountains-the small, secluded courtyard of my grandmother's choosing. My senses flared in the moonlight; every shadow whispered memory, every breeze carried the scent of the past. For my grandparents, this place was a haven. For me... it was home.