Third Person's POV As soon as Magnus stepped into the room, his expression shifted. The warm, teasing mask he wore in front of Aysel was quickly replaced with the cold, ruthless mask that he showed the world. He pulled out his phone and dialed, his voice low and commanding. "Has Moonvale Pack made contact with the project in the East District?" A mocking tone came through the line. "What's wrong? Did Moonvale Pack piss you off? I hear they've been pushing for this project-it's been their main focus for years now. And I also hear their young heir has been on it for nearly three years." Magnus's eyes narrowed as he clenched his fist around the phone. "Fire the team. Give it to their rivals-Redmoon Pack." He heard the laugh at the other end, an amused edge to the words. "You're not holding a grudge over Moonvale, are you? And this project... it's the key to their transformation." Magnus's jaw tightened, his wolf stirring beneath his skin. He could feel the surge of power, the primal urge to tear down every obstacle in his path. His voice was like ice as he responded. "They can't manage their own family. They're unfit for anything. And while we're at it, give them something to occupy their time. They're getting too comfortable." He didn't need to explain further. Too comfortable meant a threat. A threat that had been a constant-Aysel. The one person he was willing to break his principles for. The one person his pride couldn't touch. The project in the East District wasn't just a business opportunity-it was a statement. A message to Moonvale, to anyone who dared to try and threaten what was his. Magnus took a breath, forcing his wolf back into submission. He turned toward the kitchen, his hands tightening as he decided to brew ginger tea. He would need to calm the storm brewing in his blood before it consumed him. Meanwhile,Aysel's absence from Moonvale left an uncomfortable void in Damon's mind. He had called Aysel earlier, but her phone had been unreachable. He had no idea where she was, but one thing was clear-she was no longer at the pack's compound. A deep sense of worry crept into Damon's chest as he sat in his car, the frustration gnawing at him. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked at the screen-it was Celestine. For a split second, he debated ignoring it. The tension between him and Celestine had been suffocating lately, and the thought of dealing with her made his stomach churn. But the phone kept ringing, insistent. Finally, he answered, his tone clipped. "Celestine, what's wrong?" The voice on the other end was trembling, barely a whisper, but there was no mistaking the panic in it. "Dariusz... it's thundering. I'm scared. Where are you?" Damon froze. The mention of that name hit him like a physical blow. The mention of Dariusz dredged up memories-too many memories that were suffocating, and overwhelming. He gripped the steering wheel, his vision blurring as the memories of Dariusz's pain hit him like a flood. The weight of a life lost. For years, Damon had carried the weight of his actions with Aysel-the fact that he could never seem to be enough, to be there when it mattered. But now, this-this responsibility for Celestine's fragile state-was too much to bear. Her broken mind, the lies she wove, and the cold, unspoken guilt that followed him wherever he went, were all pulling him under. But he couldn't leave her in that state. Not when her broken heart was a reflection of his own. When Damon arrived at Moonvale Pack, Fenrir was waiting for him by the door. The tall, brooding heir of Moonvale looked at Damon with sharp eyes that saw far more than anyone would like to admit. "She's not here," Fenrir said, his voice flat, but there was a touch of concern behind his gaze. "She left earlier... and she hasn't come back yet." Damon's jaw clenched, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Of course she didn't come back. Why would she? She has a right to see how her 'boyfriend' is flirting with other women." Fenrir didn't respond, though the weight of the situation hung heavily between them. They both knew what Damon had failed to do. They both knew what had been slowly eating away at Aysel-the fact that Damon could never fully commit, never fully be the one she needed. His mind flashed back to all the ways he'd failed her. "Celestine's upstairs," Fenrir muttered, not looking Damon in the eye. "Maybe you should go see her." Damon turned on his heel, fury rising in his chest. The image of Aysel-alone in that damn cemetery, drenched from the rain, her pain thick in the air-tore at him, like claws scraping at his skin. But before he could turn around and leave, Celestine appeared in the doorway. Her fragile body pressed into him with the urgency of a wounded animal. She clung to him like he was her only lifeline. "Dariusz, I need you," she whispered, her voice high with desperation. Damon froze, feeling as though the weight of his entire existence had shifted in that one moment. He couldn't push her away-not like this. Not with her fragility hanging on him like a curse. The door shut quietly behind him as Celestine led him inside, her fingers trailing over his chest. She didn't know, didn't care, that Damon was still thinking of Aysel, of the woman he could never quite reach."Stay with me tonight, Dariusz," Celestine whispered, her breath hot against his skin as she spoke. "I need you." Damon's gaze flickered. Stay with her. The words felt foreign on his tongue. But that was the thing about obligations-they were never easy to break. "I'm here," Damon said, his voice low and steady, though every part of him longed to be elsewhere. With Aysel. The woman who had been bound to him, like a wolf to its pack. Celestine smiled faintly, her golden hair damp against her flushed cheeks as she tugged Damon Blackwood toward the bed. "Dariusz," she whispered softly, eyes bright and pleading, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" Her voice trembled, fragile as spun glass. Then her fingers drifted to her throat-pale skin marked by faint, reddish claw lines, as though a wolf's grip had lingered too long. Her expression turned troubled. "Aysel got angry with me again today," she murmured, her tone heavy with regret. "Tell me, Dariusz, what can I do to make her forgive me? Maybe we should just... get married soon." Her eyes lit with sudden hope. "If we marry, I'll have a reason to move out of Moonvale territory. If I leave, Aysel will come home again. She won't have to see me anymore." Her tone was so earnest, so gentle, that even Damon couldn't find the heart to contradict her. She believed she was doing it for her sister's sake-for Aysel, who had once been her packmate, her blood, and the one she'd wounded most deeply without even realizing it. But Dariusz was gone. The male she spoke of-the one she believed she still loved-had perished years ago, swallowed by the sea and the storm. And Damon could not bring himself to tell her that truth. The words stuck in his throat, dissolving into a low sigh. "Let me tend your wounds first." His tone was steady, measured, the way an Alpha handled a frightened wolf. Celestine's eyes softened. "You're so good to me, Dariusz..." Her hand came up, brushing along his jaw with the intimacy of a lover. "When you're here, I'm not afraid anymore. You'll stay with me, won't you? Always?" The touch of her skin burned. Damon flinched slightly, guilt flickering in his amber eyes, but his voice remained calm. "I will," he said quietly. "I'll stay." It was a promise he'd made a thousand times before, one that chained him more tightly than any oath.