Third Person's POV When Skylarlearned that Aysel had been targeted on her very first day at the Wolf Dance Troupe, she nearly exploded out of her fur. She had mocked Magnus before-complaining that the Shadowbane Alpha's habit of "solving problems by throwing wealth" was brutish and inelegant. But now? She wanted nothing more than to storm into the troupe and bury them under gold and fangs both. Aysel had to soothe her pack-sister for nearly half a howl-cycle. "Don't worry," she reassured gently, tail-tip flicking with stubborn resolve. "I'm confident. I might not win, but I definitely won't lose." If she could clear this hurdle smoothly, her work rhythm would accelerate. Finish the troupe's tasks early enough, and she might even return to the Shadowbone Pack ahead of schedule. Naturally, Magnus already knew about her wager with Andrea. Through the pack-link video call, he brushed his thumb over her face on the screen, his dark wolf-eye softening. "Tired?" Neither Aysel nor Andrea were wolves who dragged their paws. Their teams of four gathered that very afternoon. The choreography discussions for their duel-piece quickly devolved into multiple heated clashes. By the time Aysel returned home, her voice was nearly gone-scraped raw from hours of arguing with top-tier dancers whose instincts were as sharp as their claws. But while they snarled plenty at work, Andrea's attitude toward her-and toward Julia-softened noticeably once off duty. Aysel's body was exhausted, but working alongside peers who were the best in their craft set her wolf-heart thrumming with exhilaration. Still, when facing her mate, a she-wolf must have room to be soft. "I'm tired," she murmured, curling into her blankets. "And I miss you."Magnus's lips curved faintly. "Should I come keep you company?" She had only left for a few days, yet every part of his territory felt wrong without her scent permeating it. The den was too quiet. The bed lacked her warmth. The food tasted bland. Even Daron-his wolfhound-refused to go on his usual patrols, eating one bowl less of kibble every day. Hearing his simmering complaints, Aysel burst into laughter. "Magnus Sanchez," she teased, tapping the screen lightly over his cheek. "When did you become so clingy?" Magnus didn't even pretend to deny it. "What problem is there with clinging to my own mate? If I could, I'd keep you by my side every moment." "What do you mean by clingy, then?" she asked suddenly. Their eyes met through the screen. Aysel's expression curved into a wicked grin. Magnus instantly understood the direction of her thoughts. "Aysel Vale," he growled, "you're doing that on purpose." It was nighttime on her end. Meanwhile, he was at his office in full daylight, documents spread before him, subordinates outside the door. She was clearly trying to get him flustered. She only laughed harder when she saw his expression. Yes-she was teasing him on purpose. He had tormented her plenty before; her verbal dominance was the one battleground where she could still win.Distance was a she-wolf's best armor-he couldn't drag her back to bed and punish her right now. She burrowed deeper into her blankets, cheek pressed to her pillow, eyes shimmering with mischief. "Only wolves with a dirty mind hear things that way." Magnus wanted nothing more than to pinch her cheeks. "Who's the little corrupter here?" Aysel's voice softened into honey. "Of course it's you, Magnus." His office chair suddenly felt scorching beneath him. He clenched his jaw. Aysel Vale... Well played. Watching her luminous face on the screen-white, soft, and infuriatingly alluring-Magnus felt his self-control snap taut. If he went to her now, she'd be whining tomorrow about how tired she was, how sore, how she couldn't eat properly. She was the moon sent by the gods specifically to test him. But Magnus Sanchez had never lost a dominance match in his life. A sly smile tugged his lips. "If you tempt me like this, little mate... do you know what I'll do tonight?" Aysel blinked, wary. "What?" Magnus leaned in. "What did I bring home from our trip?" Aysel froze.She recalled perfectly: at Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge, while helping him pack, she had found a certain delicate, shredded garment-mangled by a certain Alpha's claws. "NO-Magnus! You pervert! Don't you dare! Touch my things and I'll fight you to the death!" Flustered beyond reason, she kicked wildly under her blanket. Magnus loosened his tie, eyes glowing with wicked amusement as he watched her bury her flaming-red face into the quilt. Exactly as he thought: her bite was sharp, but her belly was soft. She could tease-but once he retaliated, she crumbled instantly. Feeling triumphant, he continued teasing his little turtle. "Since you want to be with me so badly... when you return, how about we stay connected all night?" CLATTER. That was not Aysel's voice-but the sound of papers hitting the floor. Jackson, Magnus's assistant, stood at the door as if struck by lightning. He had absolutely not expected the mighty Shadowbane Alpha-cold, restrained, terrifying-to hold such scandalously intimate conversations with his mate in the sacred workplace. This... this was not safe for a single wolf's ears. He already thought it outrageous that Magnus kept a dedicated screen on his desk to video-call Aysel all day-one sleeping, one working. But this? In the office? During business hours? Jackson suddenly felt his perception of Magnus crumble. And also felt an instinctive fear for his own survival. Aysel, hearing the intrusion, instantly panicked and hung up in a flurry of red-faced humiliation. Magnus, meanwhile, was the picture of calm dominance. He looked up at Jackson coolly."What is it?" Jackson cleared his throat and regained the professionalism expected of a high-ranking pack aide. "Alpha, someone from the Darkmoon Pack has arrived." The Darkmoon Pack-his stepmother Ivy's family. The visitor today was Ivy's second brother, Lucas. The Darkmoon Pack had three sons and one daughter. Ivy was the youngest, her elder brothers powerful in all domains: James, who governed political alliances; Lucas, the business tactician; and Abram, the famed director whose films shaped continental wolf culture. Each had married into equally formidable packs. They were a clan of vast influence. The only hardships Ivy had ever endured were those tied to Ulric Sanchez. Back then, when the elder Bastien Sanchez decided to raise Magnus personally, the Darkmoon Pack had strongly objected in subtle ways. A child raised by the patriarch himself would inevitably eclipse all other grandchildren. And Magnus had been prodigiously intelligent even as a pup. Letting him grow under Bastien's direct tutelage meant Ivy's standing would plummet. But the Sanchez family matched the Darkmoon Pack in power; they couldn't be dictated to. Bastien's own children were a shattered generation-many lost, some unworthy. He was desperate for a successor. The Darkmoon Pack's interference failed. And besides-Bastien had only noticed Magnus after Ivy had thrown the boy into the mountains to get rid of him.It had been Ivy who was in the wrong first. Now, Lucas regarded the grown Alpha before him and could only sigh. His elder brother James had been right: If Ivy intended to strike back then... she should have finished the job.