Third Person's POV Did the Sanchez den insist on gnawing at this loss today? Bastien pressed his lips into a thin line, amber eyes steady on Alfie, whose calm demeanor belied the electric tension in the hall. Bastien's feelings toward this young wolf were tangled. Not exactly fondness, not exactly disdain-but a gnawing guilt lingered. Alfie had already made it clear: Aysel would have his protection tonight. For Alfie's first visit to the ancestral den, whether he wished it or not, he would be granted the face and respect owed to him. From the tip of his senses, Bastien detected subtle currents in the air. Magnus' gaze, sharp and predatory, had immediately locked onto Alfie when he appeared, the so-called cousin and de facto little uncle. Magnus noted Alfie's seemingly casual glances toward Aysel, like a wolf sniffing at prey before deciding whether to challenge or retreat. Magnus' jaw tightened around the grip of Aysel's hand, clawed fingers brushing against hers in silent communication. For a heartbeat, the two men's amber eyes crossed in the tense air of the hall. Magnus' brow furrowed, shadowed with barely restrained aggression. Alfie froze, then offered a resigned, almost wry smile, acknowledging the inevitable. Aysel, however, was utterly unconcerned with these subtle Alpha games. Her gaze remained sharp, calculating, fixed on the apex of the hall. A faint, mocking smile played across her lips as she addressed Bastien in a tone sweet as moonlight yet edged with steel. "Grandfather, your judgment is always fair, and your daughter has your protection," she said, tilting her head, "but I wonder if our Magnus ever had such vigilance when he was a pup?" Her amber gaze flicked to Dennis, who clenched his jaw so tightly it seemed his teeth might snap. "After all, Magnus has no family pack like Noah's lineage, no father to speak for him, no mother ensuring his well-being." She ignored Ulric Sanchez and Ivy, whose faces had turned ashen, and fixed only on Bastien, eyes glinting like polished amber. "Magnus was always so pitiable... Surely, grandfather, you must have ensured he was treated justly in your den?" The words, though ostensibly praise, cut like fangs. Every wolf in the hall felt the sting. Bastien's fury, once a simmering ember, flared and twisted. He understood exactly why Aysel struck this nerve. The clever ones in the den began to piece together the subtle jabs. Aysel was poised to rend the pride, claws flashing, hitting multiple generations of Sanchez wolves without hesitation. Ulric and Ivy fidgeted uncomfortably; even Bastien felt his fur bristle with embarrassment. One moment he had been defending Rudi Sanchez and Noah, insisting on justice, the next he found himself implicated by Aysel's sharp, unerring eyes for failing others.Dennis, as always, remained outside the current of pack politics. Rudi may have been audacious, but she would never report her own deeds to her mate. The young wolves had no understanding of how lethal Aysel's instincts could be. The hall exhaled tension as Bastien rescinded the order for Magnus to cover the "healing fees" for Rudi and Noah. He also commanded that the Sanchez pups would pay their respects personally to Aysel after leaving the den. Dennis' blood boiled with frustration. Bastien, the apex, truly was becoming old and muddled! No one acknowledged Dennis' indignation. Aysel had struck, humiliated, and walked away not only unscathed but enriched with a hefty "apology" and a personal "spiritual restitution" from Bastien himself. The belated bow of respect was little, but still sweeter than none. Aysel lifted her chin with predatory grace, sliding her hand through Magnus' arm. Her amber eyes, crystalline and clear as mountain streams, locked on his. With a swift movement, she handed the check Bastien had just given her into Magnus' chest. "All yours," she said, voice light, tone laced with triumph.