Magnus's POV Twenty minutes later, I sat half-slouched on Aysel's couch, the scent of herbs, blood, and cooked food mingling in the air. She was across the room at the small dining table, swinging her bare feet as she ate a bowl of dumplings-content, careless, pretending not to watch me. But before my men speak, I'd noticed the way she'd quietly put on her earbuds, pretending to scroll through her phone. She wasn't ignoring us-she was giving us space, letting me talk to my enforcers without feeling her gaze burn between us. Smart. Jackson and Kian worked quietly, disinfecting the claw wounds on my ribs and shoulder. The silence between us was thick, heavy with unspoken things. When Jackson finally spoke, it was in that low, precise tone he used whenever the topic was blood and betrayal. "Did you find the traitor, Alpha?" I flexed my fingers against my thigh, still faintly slick with dried blood. "Yes." The name left a bitter taste. "It was Conor. Aligned with Charles again." Jackson stiffened. "Shadowbane blood betraying Shadowbane." Conor Sanchez-my fourth uncle. I didn't need to look at Jackson to know what he was thinking. Bastien Sanchez-my grandfather, the founding Alpha-had built the Shadowbane Pack from blood and war. He left behind not one heir, not two, but countless. With his first mate, he sired three sons and a daughter-the eldest uncle Phelan, he fell off a cliff and died in the family struggle in his early years; my father Ulric; my fifth uncle Lyall who betrayed his family for a woman and is now marginalized, and my aunte Accalia. Then came the rest, the bastards later brought into the family, my fourth uncle Conor, born of a mistress who briefly became Bastien's favorite. The unacknowledged offspring scattered beyond the family estate were countless, each carrying fragments of the Shadowbane bloodline.And when Bastien became old, he left behind something worse than power-he left behind ambition. A kingdom of wolves that all carried the same hunger, the same bloodlust, the same curse. My father, Ulric was Bastien's second son. He ruled briefly before the war crippled him. His wounds took more than his legs-they took his hunger for dominance. So I learned early that mercy had no place in our blood. Conor's branch always dreamed too high. His mother had once been Bastien's favorite, and because of that, he'd convinced himself the Shadowbane throne should have been his. And now he'd dared to leak my route to Charles, the rogue Alpha I'd gutted in the East. "Shall I take care of him?" Jackson asked. I shook my head. "Not yet. Let him think he's safe. Pull the rest of his rot into the open. Then-burn them all at once." Kian glanced up, his lazy golden eyes glinting with humor. "A clean kill, then. I like it." He wrapped the last of the bandages around my chest, then smirked. "Though I have to say, you're lucky. The rogues Conor sent were pathetic. Couldn't even land a proper hit." I froze. My head tilted slightly, and both men felt the shift in the air. "No," I said quietly. Kian blinked. "No?" My gaze flicked toward Aysel-still at the table, earbuds in, pretending not to hear us. My voice dropped lower, darker. "The rogues were strong. Skilled. Conor chose well this time." I paused, then let my eyes linger on Aysel. "But there was another. An Alpha she-wolf. She killed them before I did." Jackson frowned, uncertain. "An Alpha she-wolf? One of ours?" I didn't answer. My gaze lingered on the faint scratch across Aysel's wrist. "No," I said finally. "Not one of ours. But stronger."The room went still. Kian's smirk faded. They knew better than to press me when I sounded like that. Kian cleared his throat, trying to lighten the tension. "Still, you should rest, Alpha. And maybe... avoid any heavy activity. For at least a night or two." Jackson nearly choked on air. "Kian." I turned my head slowly. My glare could have cut steel. Kian raised his palms in mock surrender. "Just saying. Wounds tear open fast if you're... overexcited." "Get out." He snorted but packed up the medical kit without another word. Jackson gave a nervous chuckle, bowed slightly, and the two of them made their exit. The apartment fell silent again. And then it was just me-and her. I could hear her heartbeat from across the room. Steady, but not calm. Aysel Vale, the little she-wolf from Moonvale Pack, pretended to ignore me as she scrolled her phone. But I saw her jaw tighten when I stood, felt her pulse skip when I approached. I took the earbuds from her ears before she even realized I was that close. Her scent hit me-moonlight, silvergrass, and the faintest trace of blood. "You think pretending I'm not here will keep you safe?" I murmured. "You brought me home, Aysel. My enemies will smell your scent on mine." Her gaze lifted to mine, sharp and unflinching. "Then maybe you shouldn't have followed me." I almost smiled. "You think this is about choice?" She jabbed a finger into my chest-right over the wound. "Keep your distance, Alpha." Her defiance sent a low rumble through my chest. The wolf in me liked it far too much. I glanced around the small apartment. "One room.""Exactly," she said, folding her arms. "You're sleeping on the couch." I let out a soft, dangerous laugh. "And if I don't?" "Then I'll tell the enforcers it was you who burned down my family's old house." That made me laugh, low and genuine this time. "You think anyone in this city has the guts to question me?" Her glare didn't falter. "Try me." For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other-the broken Moonvale wolf and the wolf who ruled the mainland's shadows. Then her phone buzzed, slicing through the tension. She turned away, muttering under her breath, "Guess the real trouble's here."