Third Person's POV The upheaval caused by the wedding rippled across the territories like a shockwave. It was not only Celestine, the obvious instigator, who became the object of public scorn. The Moonvale Pack and the Blackwood Pack were dragged into the fray as well, their reputations torn apart by mocking howls from across the net-wolves everywhere baring their teeth at once. That very night, Magnus took a call on behalf of Aysel. The signal came from the infirmary ward. Alpha Remus, lying injured within the Moonvale healing den, spoke through labored breath. "I failed you," he said hoarsely. "I failed my daughter." After so many cycles beneath the moon, he had finally remembered-remembered that he had once been a father who cradled his cub and vowed that only the finest wolf in the world would ever be worthy of her. Magnus did not accept the apology for Aysel. His voice remained calm, distant, edged with steel. "You should be grateful," he said, "that you once treated her well." Had Moonvale not shared even fleeting warmth before choosing bloodline and benefits over her, the pack's fate would not have ended merely in collapse and exile. Alpha Remus understood. When the call ended, the once-proud Alpha stood outside his mate's chamber. In just a handful of days, his hair had turned almost entirely silver. He sank to the stone floor and wept without a sound. The wedding disaster soon reached the Sanchez bloodline as well. No one needed to ask whose claws had torn everything open. Yet unlike the sneers and cold ridicule that had followed Aysel's severing from Moonvale after the birthday feast, the Sanchez dining hall was unnervingly silent.The first branch had never been fond of gossip. The second, Ulric Sanchez, crippled in one leg, had not left his study since being publicly struck down by Magnus. His mate, Ivy, was consumed with running between packs and courts, begging clemency for her birth family. The third, Kurt Sanchez, lacked both strength and ambition. After being corrected once, they had learned fear. The fourth branch was gone entirely. The fifth, Lyall Sanchez, remained abroad, locked in long-term recovery. Alfie, whose status placed him outside normal pack structure, had vanished into the southern jungles, obsessed with studying rare insect breeds rather than pack politics. The sixth, Rollo Sanchez, harbored ambition-but after Anna's incident, he and his mate learned to keep their tails tucked, flattering Bastien Sanchez daily, eyes fixed on inheritance like scavengers waiting for a carcass to cool. The two Sanchez matriarchs, Accalia Sanchez of Runeclaw and her sister, had always remained aloof, refusing to entangle themselves in internal bloodshed. As for Rudi Sanchez, ever since being dragged from icy waters, she had developed a deep instinctive fear of Aysel. Her mate's business had suffered as well. Magnus had openly severed ties with that alliance, leaving Rudi trapped between packs, nowhere truly safe. Whatever resentment she harbored, she no longer dared bare it openly. Bastien looked at the table full of descendants who resembled frightened quail rather than wolves and felt his temples throb. Once, when Magnus alone dominated the board, the family had at least maintained a veneer of civility. Magnus killed cleanly-but he did not brawl. Then Aysel appeared. A smaller wolf, but one who overturned tables, ignored hierarchy, and bit back without warning. She scolded when she wished, struck when she wished, and left elders decades her senior utterly defenseless. Two ruling Alphas. No one knew whether that was blessing or curse. Thinking of Derek's upcoming bonding ceremony, Bastien growled,"Are all preparations complete? Review the guest list again. I don't want stray wolves slipping in." He paused, then added flatly, "Anyone who bears hostility toward Aysel Vale-remove them." The command bordered on absurd. A first-branch celebration, yet invitations shaped around the preferences of an unmated Alpha consort. And yet-no one objected. Ulva laughed softly. "Father, you're being overly cautious. Magnus and Aysel aren't unreasonable wolves." Bastien snorted. "If they weren't, I'd be blind." "Be careful regardless," he said gruffly. "The pack hasn't had true joy in years. Do this properly." Derek smiled. "Grandfather, with me overseeing it, what is there to worry about?" Bastien studied his eldest grandson and nodded in approval. Of all the younger wolves, Derek was the steadiest-never reckless, never impulsive. Unlike Magnus. Magnus was powerful-but carried a madness in his blood. Bastien had never fully rested easy. As for Aysel Vale- Though Bastien's tongue was sharp, his heart resisted rejecting her outright. A beast bound by another beast was not weakened-it was tempered. Like a blade finally finding its sheath. Perhaps... this pairing was not a disaster after all.