Third Person's POV The night stretched long over Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge, stars blazing like a scattered crown of wolffire. The man before her-Magnus Sanchez, Alpha of Shadowbane-stood tall and imposing. Even in stillness, the sheer presence of him radiated authority, a predator's calm confidence that could make any wolf shiver. Yet the way he held her in his arms was gentle, protective, a stark contrast to the sharp command in his eyes that made the hairs along her nape rise. The piano still carried the last notes of "Für Elise", spilling through the lodge terrace. Wolves watching felt a shiver of anticipation, a collective premonition that something monumental was about to unfold. In the shadows, Zenia-ever sharp-eyed-tossed away the single flower she hadn't even intended to give. The gesture, small and dismissive, was all she needed to know. Even if she had never met the man before, seeing Aysel's complete trust and devotion in Magnus' embrace was enough to understand the truth: not all youthful love finds its way to a happy ending. The beautiful memories of the past only emphasized the bitterness of the present. And Damon Blackwood clearly could not grasp this truth. Zenia thought silently: there was no need to ask-the outcome was already written. She remembered the moment Damon had begged, "Can we start over?" The piano's final note faded. Damon turned toward the lodge's wind-and-sun shelter, white gauze curtains fluttering in the mountain breeze. Shadows inside revealed a familiar figure. He picked up the bouquet from the piano, stepping slowly toward the gazebo, all eyes tracking him. "I know," Damon's voice carried over the hushed pack, "that no amount of apologies can reclaim the time we've lost. Misunderstandings have sent us wandering many wrong paths. Yet, twenty years together-doesn't that mean our past was not entirely worthless? I know now what matters most to me. I will not say sorry again, because no obstacle will make me release your paw. Give me one more chance-to love you, properly, in the way you need." He stared, imploring the shadowed figure to turn, to respond, to let the old bond rekindle. But the wolves around whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief. Low growls and murmurs rippled through the terrace: "Holy wolf..." "Say yes! Say yes!" A few younger females hid behind paws, whispering in excitement, while others egged the scene on, caught up in the pack's thrill.Damon advanced another step, voice trembling with tension, "I don't care about your past, or who stands beside you now. If you grant me this chance, we can face every opposition together. If your heart still holds me... just nod." Inside the gazebo, the she-wolf hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded once, a small sound escaping her throat, a whimper of released emotion. The pack erupted softly, joining paws in quiet exultation. Damon's grip on the bouquet slackened; tension left his limbs. Joy, fierce and untamed, surged through him. He lifted the gauze curtains, ready to stride forward and claim her in an embrace that would bridge years of longing. But the she-wolf moved first. Swift and sure, she leapt into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. "Why didn't you say it sooner? I've loved you for so long, do you even know?" she sobbed, trembling like a young wolf cub finally finding her pack. Damon' strong paw wiped her tears, his body shivering with emotion. "I'll leave my mate behind. Just wait for me..." The sound startled Damon Blackwood, his body freezing instantly. Damon's face a storm of disbelief and rage. As he strained to discern the figure before him, the intruder-small, daring, and audacious-stood on tiptoe and pressed lips to his own. The shock slammed through him. Those lips did not belong to Aysel. It was Adam, the notorious trickster of their school, famed for his uncanny ability to mimic female beauty. Now a celebrated beauty influencer with countless followers, he had arrived at the reunion brazenly in female attire, even sporting a classmate's wig. The sight sent a torrent of revulsion surging through Damon's wolf senses, every instinct screaming as the tiny figure clung to him like a predatory parasite. His lips, adhesive and unyielding, violated every boundary, triggering a nauseating, visceral recoil.