Aysel's POV When I opened the door, Fenrir stood there-dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't slept in days. My brother. Once my protector. Now just another wolf who'd learned to fear my name. He looked wrecked-like someone who had been running from fire for too long. Maybe he had. I was the fire. Ever since my coronation ceremony with Damon turned into chaos, everything had gone to hell. Celestine's car crash, my public accusation, the pack's screaming matches, the fight that sent Celestine to the healer's ward, and finally-the Moonvale Manor burning under the full moon's glare. One thing after another, all of it traced back to me. Or so they said. Fenrir had been trying to fix the mess ever since, chasing after me like a desperate hound, putting out fires that I'd started-or that others blamed me for. When he showed up now, I could smell exhaustion and frustration dripping off him like sweat. His wolf's scent-pine and storm wind-was dulled with fatigue. Even the proud bearing of the Moonvale line looked worn thin. "Aysel," he said, voice rough, eyes pleading. "Can we stop this war already?" He tried for calm, but I could hear the edge of accusation under his words. "You've made your point. The house is gone, Celestine's injured, the pack's in chaos. Father and Mother can't take much more of this. They're not young anymore." I folded my arms across my chest, chin lifting. His tone alone was enough to make my wolf snarl. "You want peace, Fenrir?" I asked quietly. "Tell me-how does it feel to be accused and condemned without anyone hearing your side first?" He stiffened. "Not good," he admitted after a beat. "Then you understand," I said, voice low. "Do you remember when we were pups? When Celestine's roses withered in the garden? She cried, and you yelled at me for an hour. Made me replant them under the summer sun until my hands bled."He looked away. "Or the Winter Solstice Ball," I continued. "Her dance shoes were torn. You threw mine away before I could even explain. Neither of us danced that night. But at least she got your pity." He winced. "And when I went missing on the pack's spring retreat during our first year at the Academy," I said softly, "you told everyone I'd tricked Celestine into following me so she'd faint and steal her spotlight." His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I could see the realization dawn in his eyes-the years of unspoken wrongs rising between us like ghosts. The truth was simple, cruel: The roses were destroyed by a child from the visiting Ironhowl Pack. The shoes were torn by one of Celestine's admirers out of jealousy. And Celestine fainted because Lykos dragged her onto a ride that made her sick. But none of that had mattered. Not when I was the easy one to blame. "You never gave me a chance to speak," I said. "Not once. Every punishment, every glare, every silence-you made sure I carried it." He swallowed hard. "You were always at odds with Celestine-" "I was different," I cut in sharply. "That's what you mean." My voice dropped. "Remember when I fought with that chubby boy in the pup school? The teacher called our parents, but you ran from the Academy just to defend me. You said your sister could never be wrong-that if she hated someone, it was because they deserved it." I stared at him, eyes burning. "What changed, Fenrir? When did I stop being your sister worth defending?" He looked like I'd struck him. His mouth opened, closed again, and for once in his life, he had no answer. He muttered something about making peace again, about how I should forgive, about how the family didn't mean to hurt me. But I was done listening. By the time he turned to leave, shoulders sagging under the weight of guilt, I could smell the regret bleeding through his scent. He hadn't even managed to say what he came for-to beg me to stop the prank calls, the howls in the night that haunted their den, the little revenge spells I'd scattered across the pack network. When the door finally closed behind him, my tears-those that had clung to the corners of my eyes-dried instantly. The sorrow faded, replaced by stillness. See? I could cry. I could beg. I could play weak if I wanted to. But what was the point of chasing love that had never been mine to begin with? Celestine hadn't stolen their affection. She'd merely taken what should have been mine by birthright-the certainty that family meant protection, not punishment. The door behind me clicked softly, and a shadow moved in the corner of my eye. "You're not happy," a deep voice rumbled. Magnus. He'd been standing there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes glinting silver in the dim light. I caught his hand before he could touch my face. "I'm fine," I said, keeping my tone steady. "No one will bother me for a while. Fenrir's guilt will take care of that." He arched a brow, amused. "You're terrifying when you talk like that." "Good," I said simply. Magnus chuckled low, stepping closer. The air thickened with his scent-smoke, forest musk, and the faint metallic tang of dominance. My wolf stirred at it. "You know," he murmured, "there are easier ways to take revenge than emotional warfare." "I'm not looking for revenge," I said, turning back to the window. "Just silence." He tilted his head, watching me. "And if I told you silence is overrated?" I didn't answer.He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his claws grazing my skin just enough to make me shiver. "You keep pretending you're stone, Aysel Vale. But even stone breaks if you hit it long enough." "Then I'll learn to be steel." That earned me another low laugh. "You already are." The next few days fell into a strange rhythm. Because of him, my nocturnal habits vanished. We slept early, woke early. I'd go out for breakfast runs-always careful not to draw attention from nearby packs-and he'd cook when I returned. His injuries made it hard for him to shift or fight, so I became his reluctant helper. The domesticity was... unsettling. A mesterious Alpha and a disgraced Moonvale daughter living like a mated pair. By day, I painted. By night, we watched old holo-films or read in silence. Sometimes, when I was sketching, I'd look up and find his gaze on me-unreadable, predatory, but calm. Two wolves trapped together by fate, pretending the world outside didn't exist. Maybe we both knew that peace was temporary. But for once, I didn't care. Skylar called every day, ranting about Damon and Celestine and swearing vengeance on my behalf. I didn't stop her. Let the world burn a little.