Third Person's POV That night, the Moonvale Pack's dinner table was, as always, suffocatingly silent. Unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere anymore, Lykos-who hadn't been home in several days-suddenly asked, "Is Sister coming back soon?" Fenrir, still half-adrift from the earlier conversation with their mother, didn't immediately register which sister he meant. Then it clicked. Lykos hadn't called Aysel "Sister" in years. For the longest time, he referred to her only as "that one" or by name alone. "...Yeah," Fenrir said after a beat. "Soon." Lykos opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave a dry, brittle-sounding "Oh," before lowering his head to poke at the grains of rice in his bowl. Luna Evelyn had already begun cleaning the house in her frantic, guilty way. She had even tidied Celestine's room, though she had no intention of doing anything extra. Alpha Remus's expression remained calm, almost too calm. Celestine's assets had all been reclaimed and donated as atonement. Now, she quite literally had only them. Even a wolf who raises a hound develops affection-let alone someone she had invested so much of her life in. Though disappointed in her daughter, the Moonvale Pack had reached a consensus: they would still keep Celestine, still raise her. But never again the way they had before. Alpha Remus also had another thought he didn't dare say aloud: Celestine's engagement to Damonhad never been publicly dissolved. If those two truly ended up together, the Moonvale Pack could finally shake off this burden cleanly-and with no moral consequences. Though Dariusz remained a thorn in their side, Aysel's journey to M-country could only be described as exceptionally smooth.Thanks to Andrea and her professional team laying the groundwork before, Aysel's workload wasn't as heavy as it could have been. Her main focus was Julia-someone she shared instinctive harmony with. From choreography to final performance, their cooperation was seamless, as if their wolf instincts matched rhythm and breath. After Magnus left, Aysel threw herself into her work with unwavering focus, efficiency skyrocketing. By the time everything wrapped up, the entire troupe was reluctant to see her go. Andrea even whispered to Sophia, only half-joking, "Can't we just mount a new show immediately?" Skylar came home from overtime eating the leftovers Aysel had brought from her farewell dinner-also reluctant to let her friend leave. "Babe," Skylar whined, chewing on a piece of cake, "you really can't stay a little longer?" Having someone to eat with after work, someone to hang out with, someone to complain to before sleep-this kind of pack warmth was rare and precious. Who knew when she would have such days again? She stabbed the cake a little harder. "That prince of yours-Magnus Sanchez, the great Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack-why is he so damn free?" A video call every day. Three calls a day. A flurry of creative excuses every other night. As if terrified Aysel would fall too comfortably into Frostfang Pack life and never return. Skylar had seen enough during this time. Anyone who dared claim the Shadowbane heir was cold? She'd personally smack them. Tall, yes. Cold? Not even a little. Sometimes their video calls got so syrupy she felt embarrassed listening."Tsk." She waved it off. "Forget it. You should go. If you don't, I'm afraid he'll storm the country again." The night of the Dariusz incident still haunted her-opening her door at dawn only to find Magnus himself standing there, travel-worn, eyes blazing like a storming Alpha looking for his mate. She had nearly jumped out of her skin. Good thing Aysel had improved afterward. But Skylar didn't ever want to open the door to an angry Shadowbane Alpha again. "He's probably so anxious right now he can't sleep," Skylar said, voice dripping mischief. "Afraid I'll steal you away." Aysel had actually been able to return two days earlier, but she had wanted to stay for Skylar, to keep her company a little longer. And last night, Skylar couldn't resist taking Aysel out for a proper night on the town. Of course, her bad premonition came true. The lavish club she had carefully chosen- -turned out to be Magnus's territory. The wild, flamboyant Italian "owner" had personally entered their private room and announced, in heavily accented Common Tongue, that he was acting under Alpha Magnus's direct orders to "serve them personally." Skylar's toes nearly curled through the floor. In the end, she had no choice but to accept Magnus's "suggestion"- -that he accompany them by video the entire night. Even when they were "playing."