Third Person's POV The very same proclamation Celestine once flaunted over her. Returned now, word for word. A sharp, guttural howl ripped out of Celestine's chest. The entire parking ground froze. Reporters halted mid-step, startled. A few wolves exchanged uneasy looks. Spirits... has she gone feral? During the stunned pause, Agnes-leg wrapped but moving swiftly-raised her phone and began snapping photos. From her vantage, she saw not only Aysel sitting elegantly by the window, but deeper inside- Magnus Sanchez. Even with only their jawlines visible in the dim lighting-one soft as moonlit mist, the other dagger-sharp-they looked otherworldly. As if sensing her gaze, both wolves turned toward her at the same moment. God-tier faces followed by more god-tier faces. Agnes's heart thudded wildly. She snapped the pictures on instinct. The streetlamp, the shadows, the atmosphere-perfect. Except... She glanced at Celestine again-still crumpled on the ground, tears and snot blurring her face, her once-pristine dance garments in shambles. One side: a trembling, fallen white flower in the dirt. The other: a luxury car hiding two beautifully dangerous conspirators in silks and shadows. The contrast was almost too poetic. It was wildly inappropriate, yet the scene truly resembled a killer returning to the crime site to inspect the aftermath of her own handiwork. No wonder-they were siblings, after all. Aysel Vale's brother and sister-in-law had the unmistakable air of cultivated villains. ... Julia appeared a little later, somehow ending up beside Agnes without anyone noticing. As two key players in tonight's entire spectacle, the pair had grown familiar in a short time. Julia pressed a hand to her ear, blocking out Celestin's shrill, feral scream from across the parking grounds. "What's wrong with her?" Agnes still refused to lower her phone. "Nothing. Just... snapped a little after being poked in the sore spot." Julia nodded thoughtfully. Fair enough. Twenty years of stolen glory collapsing in a single night-going mad was reasonable. After tonight, there would be no foothold left for Celestine in the dance world of the allied Packs. But her name would remain forever-and only as a cautionary tale. "By the way..." Julia craned her neck. "Why are you taking pictures of Aysel and Alpha Magnus?" Wasn't she scared Magnus-Alpha heir of the Shadowbane Pack, wolf Rafe incarnate-would tear her arm off for photographing him without permission? Agnes smiled, mysterious and smug. "You don't understand. If I were taking pictures of Magnus alone, I might die. But I'm taking pictures of the couple. These might get treasured later." Honestly, even professional photographers probably couldn't match the framing she got. She was, after all, a woman destined to become a star. Magnus-despite denying it-had been glued to Aysel like a shadow these days while secretly learning dance in the Moonvale estate. After personally witnessing the Alpha clearing rooms, cooking, making beds, and blow-drying her hair, Agnes had seen very clearly how cheaply men fell once they were in love. Even if the two of them denied everything twice over, Agnes' years of one-sided affection had taught her the signs: these two were unmistakably heading toward a destined bond.Julia's eyes lit with sudden understanding. Then-if she worked harder and danced well-perhaps Aysel would come to the theatre more often. And if Aysel came more often... maybe the investment from the Shadowbane Pack would rise and rise. The two women exchanged a look and felt a shared surge of ambition. The police cruiser's sirens faded into the night. The black Maybach followed soon after, disappearing into the dark like a phantom predator. The scandal's fallout still needed time to ferment. By dawn, those involved would realize that the nightmare awaiting them extended far beyond tonight.