Third Person's POV Outsiders had always assumed that Lykos had only one real sister-Celestine Ward. They never knew Aysel had existed in his life. He had despised Aysel once-thought her vicious, volatile, and embarrassingly humble. She lacked Celestine's gentle grace, lacked the shining reputation Celestine carried wherever she went. To him, Aysel had been the Moonvale Pack's stain. The Aysel Jenny described-brilliant, beloved, admirable-was worlds apart from the stubborn, infuriating sister he remembered before the truth of their bloodlines had been torn open for the world to see. Their relationship seemed close, harmonious. The familial bond he had severed now appeared to have taken root in others-continued in a way that excluded him entirely. But she had been his sister. Once, she had loved him deeply. A hollow terror of losing her forever had twisted something inside him, driving him to knock the plush moon-bear totem from Jenny's hands. He had stepped on it-crushing it as if destroying the symbol might force the past to return. Might make everything snap back into place. Jenny had been stunned. Had the professor not walked into the classroom at that exact moment-and had she not been unsure whether Lykos meant it-she would have attacked him on the spot. A young Shadowbane wolf never tolerated disrespect lightly. That night, in a foul mood, he went out to the racing grounds under the full moon's haze-hoping speed could drown the thoughts clawing at his skull. Instead, he ran into a few wealthy young wolves. They backed away instantly upon seeing him. One of them joked, "Careful-if Young Master Lykos crashes into a car or a person, he won't be able to afford compensation. And that vehicle of his-who knows when it'll be repossessed to pay his family's debts." Their laughter was loud, careless, and unbearably sharp. A pack's fall meant its respect-and its acceptance-fell with it.For the first time in his life, Lykos understood with brutal clarity that without the Moonvale Pack's name, he was nothing. Rage consumed him. He wanted to lash out at anything, everything. He called a few old hangers-on-not the elites he once mingled with, just ordinary-born wolves who liked his old spending habits. And then fate mocked him. He ran into Jenny again-the same Jenny who had walked away from him earlier that day. She was chatting with her girlfriends, declaring she would take first place in the race just to show off to her "little cousin-in-law," and that she planned to invite Aysel next time to join them for a night run. She also complained about her third cousin Magnus who guarded Aysel too closely, too possessively. "Every time I want to go out with Aysel, I have to wait in line," she pouted. "What's so fun about hanging around an ice-faced Alpha anyway? We're young-we want excitement!" They conveniently forgot that Mganus was barely twenty-seven. Listening to the bright chatter of young she-wolves, something twisted sharply inside Lykos. He didn't want Jenny to take first place. And so, in those final stretches of the race, he had charged forward without thought, intercepting her vehicle with reckless abandon. War erupted. Every blow he received sent pain slicing through his body-but beneath the pain was a sick, liberating clarity. When he saw Aysel arrive, for one breathless second he thought she had come for him. Before Celestine entered his life, before the fractures widened, the siblings had been close. Even up until the moment Aysel left Moonvale, no matter how fiercely they fought, she had always been the first to defend him in front of outsiders. He remembered it vividly-the time, as teenagers, he had been tricked by a rival wolf from a neighboring school and cornered after class in a narrow alley. Just when he was certain he would be beaten unconscious, Aysel had appeared-like a wrathful guardian spirit-driving the bully away with blows sharp enough to leave him whimpering. Neither of them had dared return home injured. They crouched in the dim alley like two stray wolf pups, baring their teeth at each other while applying salve to their wounds.Days of childish sulking ended right there-in that alley of shared bruises and reluctant laughter. He had believed that no matter how many fights they had, their story would always circle back to that alley-two wolves relying on each other against the world. Even when Aysel severed their bond, he stayed angry, stayed stubborn... yet somewhere inside him he still believed she would come back someday. How could she not? She was his sister. But now she stood beside Jenny-handing the pampered Shadowbane girl a glass of water-her expression calm and cool. And Lykos, desperate, finally spoke. "Sister," he said. "I know it was you who saved me by the sea when I was fourteen. I'm sorry." He watched her intensely, searching for a flicker of emotion-anything. But Aysel remained peaceful. So peaceful it felt as though she had long forgotten the injustice and fury of that day. So peaceful it felt as though she had forgotten him.