Aysel's POV SLAP! Before Noah could finish the last filthy word forming on his tongue, my palm cracked across his face-sharp, ringing, satisfying. His head snapped to the side. I smiled, baring a hint of fang. "Now," I purred, "I have the qualifications." "What-?" Noah clutched his cheek, stunned. "Your face offended my hand," I said lightly. "And as Magnus's chosen mate-unofficial or not-you dared to run your mouth at me. I'm simply... settling the balance." I tilted my head. "Daron!" My voice snapped like a command Alpha-bred wolves recognized instinctively. "Wash my cousin's mouth for me." My wolf-hound, Daron-massive, obedient, and far more wolf than dog-had been sitting calmly at my heel. The moment the order left my lips, he surged forward in a blur of muscle and teeth. Even without shifting, Daron's presence radiated raw predator energy, a warning in every flex of his sinewy body. Anyone daring to provoke him would be shredded in an instant. Noah froze for a fraction of a heartbeat. He knew. Not only was Daron ferocious, he was Magnus's own hunting wolf-the apex enforcer of the Shadowbane Pack. Anyone who even touched him without permission risked invoking Alpha Magnus's wrath. That alone kept Noah from embracing his own wolf form. To transform in his defense would be to openly challenge Magnus, a move so suicidal that no sane wolfling would attempt it. In an instant, the beast was snarling, lunging straight at Noah.His scream shattered the air. Every young wolf nearby shrieked or stumbled back. The kill-pressure radiating from Daron was undeniable; one bite, and Noah would lose more than dignity-he would lose blood. Noah bolted, tripping over himself, terror twisting his scent into something acrid and pathetic. "You're insane!" he yelled as he ran. "Do you know who I am?!" I watched him coldly. "Of course I do. You're Rudi Sanchez's son." My wolf growled silently. And I've been looking for you. I ignored the chaos behind me-the splashing feet, Noah's panicked curses, the wind whipping through the ancestral estate as he fled for his life. My attention slid to the boy who had earlier defended that timid bang-haired girl. "You," I said, "go get Rudi." He hesitated, glancing toward poor Noah, who by now had lost one shoe and any shred of dignity he once possessed. His expression said it all: When someone is bullying us, are we really supposed to fetch their mother? Seeing his worry, I waved a hand casually. "Don't worry. Just go." He swallowed, nodded quickly, and sprinted off-long legs stretching in pure self-preservation. I returned to supervising Daron, who was gleefully herding Noah in circles. Occasionally, I raised my voice: "Left. No, block him there-good boy." No one else dared to move. Not even breathe too loudly. They were forced spectators to a savage chase, each loop of it etching humiliation deeper into Noah's bones.The proud, loud-mouthed wolfling was now screaming, flailing, and- RIPP- Daron tore the waistband of his pants with a single playful snap. Noah's red underwear flashed for all to see. A chorus of muffled laughter rippled through the group. Noah's face turned the color of his undergarments. But running never saved anyone. After several laps, he finally understood the pattern: We were cornering him. Forcing him toward the pond. His only choices were: lose a chunk of flesh-or jump. So, shaking and breathless, he staggered backward toward the water. Then, in pure defeat, he clamped his nose and- SPLASH! The pond was no man-made pool. Wind had churned its surface, and the bottom was thick with mud and fallen leaves. It hadn't been cleaned yet. Noah surfaced choking, spitting out muck, hair plastered to his face. But if he thought that was the end of my "lesson," he profoundly underestimated my wolf. When Rudi arrived-dragged there by the boy-she saw exactly this: Her son trapped waist-deep in filthy pond water. Daron growling on the shore. Me standing above Noah with a long reed-stalk, tapping his head every time he tried to edge toward land, shoving him back with a practiced thrust. Several young wolves stood to the side like terrified wooden stakes, watching me "discipline" him with open-mouthed horror. This wasn't just an injury.This was humiliation. This was dominance. "Aysel Vale! What are you doing?!" Rudi's scream cracked the air as she stormed forward, eyes bloodshot. A few of the younger wolves who had been through emotional whiplash today nearly collapsed again at the sound. The bang-haired girl who had spoken up earlier gave me a worried look. But I felt no guilt. No fear. I simply turned to face Rudi, fully composed. As she lifted a hand to strike me, I caught her wrist effortlessly. "Dear Aunt Rudi," I said softly, tightening my grip, "your son cannot control his eyes or his mouth. As his future cousin-in-law, it's only right I correct him." I smiled, sweet and sharp. "And for you to rush in slapping without asking who started it... isn't that rather unjust?" For a heartbeat, doubt flickered across her face. My wolf smiled inside me. Because even she knew-her son had earned every second of this.