Third Person's POV Meanwhile, Skylar had originally planned to introduce Aysel to the wild pulse of M Country's night dens and the finely honed male hunters who prowled them. Yet, a single word from Magnus had redirected everything, tying them to one of his gem mines. No wolf would bite the paw that feeds it, and Skylar, though daring, didn't want to push Aysel toward prey in territory controlled by her mate. After all, who knew how many of Magnus's holdings sprawled across the city? A careless step into his lands with Aysel could turn an innocent outing into a dangerous misstep. Fortunately, neither Aysel nor Skylar craved reckless thrills. Sharing a quiet meal, wandering hidden alleys, or simply speaking in low growls and laughter sufficed to stir joy. At a tucked-away den of aromatic scents and warm hearths, Skylar noticed Aysel's calm, unreadable gaze pause over a message before she set it aside. Her eyebrows arched. "Moonvale Pack?" Aysel inclined her head. "Yes." Ever since Aysel had locked Celestine Ward in the containment cells, severing ties with her Moonvale pack, the Moonvale Pack had tread lightly around her, cautious after Magnus's warning. Yet, recently, their claws itched again to mend fractured bonds. The message Aysel had glimpsed was from Fenrir, sent through another's device, inviting her to Luna Evelyn's birthday. Skylar's lips curled into a sharp, bitter smile. "They never celebrated your turning, yet theirs roll around each year without fail." Aysel allowed herself a faint, fleeting smile. Closing the barn door after the wolf has fled-the effort was meaningless at best. Back in the homeland, Luna Evelyn's fury churned like a storm-scented wind. She intercepted her pack servants mid-cleaning, hissing, "Stay your paws! I'll do it myself!" Tears glimmered in her eyes as she faced the modest chamber, smaller and far less adorned than Celestine's, cluttered with remnants of her sister's life. Guilt clawed at her chest. Over the years, how many wrong moves had she made? And for her shame toward her elder sister, she had lost the one she loved most-her daughter. Amidst Luna Evelyn's anguish, Aysel, having just ended dinner with Skylar, received a summons via Magnus's shadow-guard. "Luna," the gruff voice said over the comm-link, "you may need to come once more. Dariusz insists on speaking to you personally-regarding Celestine Ward's mother."When they reunited with Dariusz, he was barely recognizable. Prolonged exposure to the sea had wrinkled his skin, each hair bristling with the brine of the waves. His handsome, rogue-like face was bruised and bloodied, and scars etched his arms and torso. Apparently, despite Aysel's earlier instructions, Magnus's guards had given him a thorough-if brutal-reception. Yet it was this very torment that pried open the last secret from Dariusz's iron grip. A cruel wolf himself, stabbed through hand and heart, he had held back until now, preserving a bargaining chip in case Celestine could still be saved. Now, battered and broken, he pleaded, "Miss Vale... wait until I speak fully before you stop them." Aysel's gaze, cold and unflinching, pinned him. "I had no proof," he admitted reluctantly. "That's why I remained silent." Years ago, Celestine, performing the part of a devoted mate with Dariusz, had once visited the grave of Yuna Ward under his escort. He had not been permitted close. But when Celestine left offerings behind in the pack cart, he overheard her muttering at her mother's stone. Her words, fragile yet steely, carved themselves into Dariusz's memory: "Mother, you said techniques need not be traditional, only effective. If a single life can bind another forever, then I shall use another to tear them apart. Tell me... could I succeed?" The wolfish weight of those words hung in the air between them.