Third Person's POV Magnus's usual composure wavered, his frustration and longing painting his dark features with rare vulnerability. Aysel laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's not too late," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress against the sharp air of the garden. Though the past had been missed, their future stretched long and untamed, like wolves running across a moonlit forest. Magnus's gaze remained fixed on her, predatory yet tender. Sensing the intensity, Aysel instinctively covered her mouth, aware that even in daylight, the garden was far from private. The proximity, the heartbeat pressed against heartbeat, was already a bold claim. He leaned forward slightly, a wolf nuzzling its mate, brushing his lips across the back of her hand in a fleeting, possessive kiss. His voice, low and gravelly, rumbled through the open space. "No one dares come here," he murmured, a promise as much as a warning. "Aysel~" His tone, magnetic and commanding, coaxed a shiver along her spine. "I'm jealous... confort me, baby~I am so jealous~I hate them~" Aysel's scalp tingled. Wolves could mutate, and Magnus had evolved into a perfect blend of danger and charm. From somewhere in the garden, the soft clatter of falling water and a sweet scent teased the air. Magnus chuckled, rubbing her back with slow, deliberate satisfaction. "Sweet. Strawberry cakes," he said, his voice thick with indulgence. Aysel slapped his mouth in embarrassed protest, only to have her hand seized and kissed again. She surrendered to the absurdity of it, her gaze drifting to the flowerbeds, alive with scent and color, wondering if men were ever worth sympathy. Elsewhere, a girl clutching a pile of treasured board games skidded to a halt. Props fell to the ground as she spread her arms like a mother wolf, blocking her exuberant siblings. "I just remembered-Aunt Aysel said she went to Greenbamboo Garden to rest. Let's not disturb her." "Really? But didn't Magnus just bring food for Aysel and walk toward the garden?" "You don't understand. We'll play later. Games wait," she insisted. Reluctantly, the others backed down. Without a leader to challenge, none dared approach the pair, let alone play alongside them. Trailing behind, the girl fought to suppress the urge to look back. Her outward calm masked a heart thundering like a wolf's chase drum. That brief glimpse among the flowers-just a kiss, and yet a single second ignited more fervor than a late-night comic ever could. She covered her face, heart racing. In another hall, Bastien made his decree regarding the Fifth Branch. As Magnus had anticipated, the old Alpha bypassed the past and directly assigned a portion of the family's wealth to the branch. Reactions were varied. The Sixth Branch grinned, having tried all day to curry favor, only to see their efforts enrich others. The Second and Third Branches seethed quietly, coveting valuable holdings. Others speculated-Alfie and his family were supposedly leaving for medical treatment abroad, and Alfie seemed unambitious. Yet hearts shifted unpredictably. Today might signal the Fifth Branch's quiet return to prominence. Accalia Sanchez remained silent, a complex storm behind her calm. Lyall Sanchez, her full brother, might claim benefits once hers. Wealth divided, each received their piece. The youngest, Rudi Sanchez, was more direct. "Father, why? That jewelry company-I've wanted it forever. And Lyall... for a woman, betraying the family, committing sins-why should he get anything back?!" "Enough!" Bastien struck his cane. "I distribute as I see fit. It's not for you to judge." Rudi pouted in defiance. "Giving it to him-doesn't that mean giving it to Johanna? Then the eldest's death was meaningless?" She ignored Alfie, intentionally or not. Ulva, the usually silent matriarch, rose sharply. "Mind your words, girl!" The old Alpha's eyes, cloudy yet piercing, swept across the room. All sat straighter. Even those unmoved-Magnus, Aysel, Lyall, and Alfie-felt the cold weight of judgment. "Your eldest died. Which of you can claim a clear conscience?" Blame and resentment intertwined, tangled beyond disentanglement. The Fifth Branch had remained in retreat for nearly thirty years, never touching the family fortune. Even restitution was sufficient compared to the pampered lives of the other siblings. Bastien's voice cut like winter frost. "I have decided. If you dissent, return what is in your hands." Silence fell. Even suspicion of secrets passed through the pack's collective consciousness. Johanna watched, smirking at the chaos. She needed not compete; she had no stake in the Sanchez inheritance. Even if Alfie declined, charity was preferable to feeding this pack of wolfish greed. Alfie himself remained serene, detached from the family storm, the Moonvale butterfly never meant to flourish in such a den of wolves. His gaze lingered briefly on Magnus and Aysel's hands, tightly entwined, Aysel's lips flushed with passion. He turned away, the harsh night calling him elsewhere. The evening's storm of the family meeting concluded. Alfie chose departure, stepping from the Sanchez estate. Their vehicles passed, Magnus driving with Aysel, their cars brushing, departing in opposite directions. Alfie's gaze followed the shrinking silhouette of the car in his rearview, recalling the message received shortly after leaving the garden: the South American research project was slashed in funding, timelines stretched infinitely. He allowed himself a small, wry smile. That one... truly was relentless. "Tap, tap," Johanna's light fingers reminded him from the backseat. Alfie's smile faded, eyes leaving the rearview mirror, and the car pressed onward into the night.