Third Person's POV Tonight's den was alive with the scents and howls of the Empire's most powerful Packs. Almost every Alpha and matriarch of the capital's top families had converged, their furs gleaming under the lanterns, eyes alert to every ripple of power. Yet Aysel found her gaze drawn elsewhere-not to the glittering cliques or to the Shadowbane Alpha Magnus, though he was ever-present at her side-but to a figure she had long heard of but never truly seen: Magnus's elder brother, Derek Sanchez. Derek, the only son of the Sanchez first line, had been raised solely by his mother, Ulva, a cunning and disciplined she-wolf. His presence radiated both authority and restraint. Were it not for Magnus, the rogue genius of the Shadowbane Pack, Derek would have been the undisputed heir of the Sanchez lineage. Before Magnus's storming rise, it was Derek who received the lion's share of the elder Alpha Bastien's attention, training, and favor. Fate, however, allowed only one crown, and Bastien's eye fell upon Magnus. With Ulva and her allies supporting him, Derek had branched out, building his own territory and enterprise, independent of the central Sanchez Pack's den. Compared to the unremarkable Zark of the third line, Derek's operations thrived, well-managed and respected. Bastien took solace in the accomplishments of his first-line heir, ensuring that both mother and son received support, land, and resources for their diligence. Aysel first noticed Derek while gliding past the banquet tables for a taste of a delicate honeyed pastry. She passed the Darkmoon Pack-Lucas and his mate, serene even in middle age-offering respects to Bastien, their movements in harmony with each other. She noted how a life in a strong pack, united and careful, brought peace. Bastien himself, once a reckless youth in the Empire, had borne many heirs with little restraint. Some, born of fleeting passions, caused endless strife, while others, like the rogue fourth son, succumbed entirely to their appetites and ruined their own lines. Her thoughts were interrupted as a voice, calm and controlled, broke through the hum behind her. "Grandfather," Derek said lightly. Bastien turned, first seeing the tall, composed figure of Derek Sanchez, and then Aysel, hovering with a small ceremonial cake, wide eyes betraying her silent judgment: "How can you be such a two-faced old wolf?" The old Alpha faltered, caught mid-sentence. He stiffly addressed the Darkmoon trio, whose faces had darkened with surprise. "If only my Magnus had siblings like these," he said, deliberately ignoring Aysel's shocked glare. Then, gesturing to Derek, he called, "Derek, come meet your Uncle Lucas and Aunt Darkmoon." Derek brushed past Aysel, bowing with precision. "Sister-in-law," he intoned politely.Aysel had intended to tease the old wolf, but the moment was stolen. She pursed her lips, uninterested in lingering among those who clearly wished she wouldn't. Her instincts told her to find Magnus-to gauge this elder brother's disposition. Before she could, the Moonvale pack's keen ears-trained from years of observing pack hierarchy-caught an urgent disturbance. A flustered servant approached, whispering, "Miss Vale! Trouble! The second line couple are at it-fighting in their den!" Aysel's eyes sparkled. Unexpectedly, the first troublemakers of the night were not the boisterous guests but the unseen second-line pair. The servants, aware of the decorum required, had concealed the matter until finding Aysel, the Shadowbane Alpha's chosen, the one with sufficient influence to intervene. She retrieved her commstone, messaging Magnus with the den's location. "Lead the way," she instructed the servant. "Does anyone else know?" The round-faced she-wolf shook her head. "No, just you, Miss Vale." A sly smile tugged at Aysel's lips. "Good. Keep it quiet. No need to involve anyone else. I'll handle it." The servant nodded, understanding the hierarchy: the third-line heir's word, filtered through Aysel, carried authority. Aysel arrived at the second-line quarters to find chaos still unabated. Ivy, the Scarlet-furred she-wolf, eyes rimmed with fury, shrieked, "Ulric, do you even care?!" For her, the path had been one of sacrifice-forsaking reputation, defying kin, risking pack honor-yet Ulric remained hollow, like a shell of a wolf who once might have been capable of warmth. She had restrained herself countless times, afraid to shatter illusions that kept fragile peace. Now, the final straw-the pursuit of Magnus by Olivia-had ignited the embers of her long-suppressed despair. Her fangs bared in frustration, Ivy glared at the crimson mark on Ulric's chest, silent but damning. "Did you ever truly love me?" Ulric's gaze met hers, steady and cold. "After all these years... does asking still matter?" No words followed, but his silence cut sharper than any fang. Ivy's laughter erupted, bitter and jagged, tears tracing paths down her muzzle. "You... you are merciless, Ulric Sanchez!" Her devotion had spanned decades, anchored from adolescence to now. Her life had been a sunflower, perpetually turned toward Ulric, basking in hope. The memory of past decisions-his reluctant union with Raya, the disruption caused by Derek's maneuvers-still brought a bitter pang.Even the long-anticipated joy of his temporary acquiescence to end a forced union had crumbled. Tonight, everything lay in ruins, exposed like raw, wounded fur in the moonlight.