Third Person's POV As the healers howled through the night toward the Moonvale Pack estate, the other side of the celebration was winding down. The negotiation between Ivy and Magnus had ended in icy silence. Ulva had already returned to the hall to report to Bastien about the condition of the second couple in the den. Upon hearing that both had been pinned to the ground by their own fury-family physicians fearful for their lives had insisted on urgent medical attention-he could only gape. "So his father and stepmother fight like that? Ungh!" Bastien muttered, shock creasing his weathered face. Emma, trailing behind, gave Rollo a knowing look. Clearly, she wasn't the only one warped by Aysel's mischievous influence. That girl's voice alone, the lilting, teasing cadence of every "stepmother" she'd ever jabbed at, was intoxicatingly persuasive. "Where are the other two now?" Bastien demanded, his eyes dark. The Darkmoon family had returned to the hall, yet the missing pair had vanished. The sisters-in-law exchanged glances, uncertain. Finally, Grand-aunt Ulva shrugged, a faint smirk on her lips. "The young couple must be in one of those sticky, private moments. Probably whispering secrets only the two of them understand." Bastien could say nothing. His son was nearly in the emergency ward, yet he was still playing at love. Fate had a cruel sense of irony: decades of wisdom and power, now wasted cleaning up his progeny's folly. He shook his head in exasperation. "All right, dismiss everyone." Over twenty minutes later, Magnus appeared. Despite the cool, controlled alpha aura he carried like a second skin, there was no hiding the pleasure etched into his features. It was the glow of one utterly spoiled by whispers and sweet words from a clever mate. Bastien had never seen this early-mature grandson so openly pleased with himself. He squinted, instincts on edge. "And Aysel Vale?" he asked cautiously. Magnus smiled, a wolfish curve of lips. "She said she's gone to fetch a gift for me." They emerged from the corner, having shared a stolen, wolfish kiss. Magnus had intended to lead her to Bastien for a polite greeting before departing, but Aysel, ever capricious, seemed to remember something else at the last moment. Excited, she pushed him to return ahead, vanishing without a trace. Knowing the den was secure, Magnus let her go. Bastien's face tightened. Seeing Aysel annoyed him. Not seeing her? Worse. Ask Magnus, though, and he would only shrug, eyes glinting: the little she-wolf was playful; let her roam. Ha, roam? Bastien's sharp instincts pricked. "What gift... so important she must go herself?" he pressed, suspicion gnawing. He knew well enough that their birthday presents were usually perfunctory, gilded but soulless. Magnus, sensing the scrutiny, cleared his throat with a faint unease. "I worried a servant might slight her. She's capable, but I didn't want anyone to mishandle even a simple task." A sly smile curled his lips. "No need to trouble yourself, Grandfather. She commands the staff just fine." Bastien huffed, trapped. He glared, then stomped away with his cane, grumbling. Out of his sight, he summoned the steward. "Send someone to find Aysel Vale. Keep an eye on her." When confronted with the steward's bewildered expression, Bastien said no more. He would tolerate no more surprises tonight. How thick would his old hide need to be to endure Aysel's schemes? Luckily, the young she-wolf seemed attuned to his silent plea. Not long after, she appeared, adorned in a costly gown, yet casually bearing a cello taller than half her height. Bastien's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She truly had gone to retrieve it. Magnus moved instantly, lifting the cello from her back. "Why not let someone help you?" Aysel shook her head. "It's fine. Not heavy. I just didn't want them to dent it." Then she turned, grin playful as a wolf pup, and looked at Bastien. "Grandfather, I heard you were missing me?" His gaze flickered. "Enough, it's fine." Touched, Aysel's expression softened. "Before, you said you wanted someone else to be Magnus's mate. I thought you didn't like me. Silly me." Bastien reacted swiftly, denying. "I never said that." "You didn't say it... but your expression did." He scowled, stiffly: "Nonsense. Stop besmirching an old wolf.""Really? Am I the one you've truly chosen? Magnus's intended, the mate you most desire and welcome?" "Yes, of course," Bastien replied, though his heart and mouth argued. Magnus smirked. "Grandfather-" At that moment, Olivia called, her tone subdued, "Grandfather, someone seeks you. We won't disturb further." Aysel and Magnus clasped hands, bowing politely in farewell. Bastien felt the familiar sting of being outmaneuvered. The Darkmoon's presence had once again revealed his double-standards. But there was no real threat; Olivia would never wed into the Sanchez family. His thoughts softened with a quiet sigh. "Come by with your parents to visit the den another time." Olivia forced a polite smile. "Yes, Grandfather. Take care of your health." Even she had been outmaneuvered by the cunning little wolf. With the Darkmoon family gone and the Moonvale estate quieting, Bastien muttered, "This birthday has been more trouble than usual. At least the young ones haven't stirred more chaos." The steward hesitated. His mind was elsewhere. He had only seen Aysel fetch the cello-but from where?