Magnus's POV I watched the videos with a measured calm, but inside, a low rumble of satisfaction stirred. The voices on the line, Jackson's carefully selected proxies, didn't pause for breath-they tore into the Valefamily with an unrelenting barrage of words. "Blind and foolish, incapable of managing their own den, unfilial, unworthy..." The list was endless, unique, and sharp as a wolf's fang. I could sense their defenses, even across the distance. They had blocked unknown numbers, switched off phones, tried backup lines. Clever wolves, but my team was cleverer. They were persistent hunters, shadowing their prey with surgical precision. The audio, loud enough to bleed into the moonlit banquet, drew awkward glances. I allowed a corner of my lip to twitch. Discomfort was delicious. Alpha Remus and his mate looked thoroughly humiliated, slinking from the hall with tails tucked, faces flushed. Even he-so refined and self-contained-let loose a curse, smashing his own phone in anger. At the hospital, Celestine Ward nearly spewed blood from frustration as my proxies called her family with sharp, cutting words: "Homewrecker, false heiress, thief of nests, evil wolf..." I could hear Lykos and Damon scrambling, frantic, trying to revive the situation. Knox Draven didn't last two minutes. His temper flared like a cornered wolf; he retaliated with a half-hour of futile counterattacks, eventually smashing Celestine's carefully chosen device in pure rage. My proxies reported back with precision. "Boss, unless they cut themselves off from the world entirely, we'll keep at them like shadows. Three days of cursing guaranteed. Two days, twenty-three hours, five minutes remaining." Dedication and discipline. I could respect that. Background checks, timing, delivery-all accounted for. I watched Aysel-Moonvale's stubborn little wolf cub-eyes wide, sparkling with glee, absorbing every syllable. She had never encountered revenge so surgical, so relentless. And yet, she was thrilled. Her small, human heart radiated satisfaction like a beacon. For once, someone fought back on her behalf. "Boss... amazing, truly amazing! Tell me, anything you want, I'll make happen," she said, practically bowing with adoration. I stifled a laugh, recalling the many times she'd been impossibly loyal, impossibly insistent on following her whims. My hand jabbed at her forehead, playful but firm. Even now, she tried to knead at my injuries like some silly apprentice wolf. "Best thing you can do now is keep your distance," I warned, amber eyes narrowing."Got it!" she bounced three feet away, a blur of human exuberance. I frowned. Wolves should respect boundaries-but somehow, watching her retreat left a sour taste. "Never mind. Come patch me up." "Yes, sir!" she chirped, eyes gleaming with the thrill of proximity. Her hands were quick and eager as they trailed over my muscled torso. I caught her mid-motion and pinned her gently, letting her squirm and plead until I finally permitted her to retreat to her own quarters. All night, she'd run my orders without hesitation-sharp, efficient, yet with that flicker of joy she couldn't quite hide. My wolf saw it clearly: Aysel enjoyed watching her enemies kneel. She fed on the justice I delivered, on the humiliation of the once-proud Vales. And yes-the one million credits only made her satisfaction sweeter. But when the work ended, the real torment began. We had traded rooms for the night-her idea. She'd insisted I take the bed inside, while she slept out on the narrow couch by the fire. I hadn't argued. It seemed harmless enough. Until I lay down. Her scent was everywhere. Wildflowers after rain. Clean linen. Wolf musk so faint it threaded under my skin instead of across it. Every breath filled me with it, every shift of fabric carried her warmth. The bed was soft, alive-hers. My control frayed. Muscles tensed. Heart hammered. The room felt too small for everything I was trying not to feel. I should never have agreed to this. Finally, I pushed off the mattress, the decision made. I would carry her to the bed and take the couch myself. Distance-that was the only cure for this ache clawing at the edges of reason. But when I bent to lift her, her hand found me in the dark. She murmured something broken and impossibly tender-"Grandmother..."-and her arms wrapped around me like a vine seeking warmth. Her cheek brushed my throat, soft and trusting, unaware of the storm she'd just unleashed. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. I-Magnus Sanchez, Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack, predator, ruler, executioner-stood frozen, pulse thundering, caught between instinct and mercy. The wolf inside me wanted to pull away, but the man... the man stayed.And so I did not move. I stood there in the dim light, her breath feathering against my skin, her scent flooding every corner of restraint I had left-and for the first time in years, I didn't know which part of me she was saving, and which she was destroying.