Aysel's POV The hearth crackled low, filling Magnus's den with the scent of pine smoke and meat broth. I sat curled in a fur throw, my legs drawn beneath me, only my face showing. Magnus said I looked like a snow cub - small, harmless, and far too curious for my own good. "Magnus," I asked, watching him move about the kitchen with that calm, predatory grace only Alphas possessed, "if choosing to stay with me meant being branded a traitor by your Pack... if others used debts or honor to force your hand - would you let me go?" He didn't glance up from the pot. Steam rolled off his hands as he poured the broth into a carved stone bowl. "If someone can put you on a scale, Aysel, it means they've already decided you can be weighed." He turned then, eyes dark as the mountain night. "And if he lets you fall, no matter what reasons he gives - duty, gratitude, morality - it only means the weight on the other side mattered more. He wanted to be a noble wolf, not a loyal one. That's the difference." Magnus set the bowl before me and crouched, pulling me effortlessly from the couch onto his lap before settling me at the table. His breath brushed my neck - warm, steady, and disturbingly close. "But I'm not that kind of wolf," he murmured. "You forget our second meeting, little Vale. For me, being called ungrateful or faithless isn't even the worst of my sins. My claws have already been bloodied." I looked at him, startled - and yet my pulse betrayed me. There was something darkly comforting about how easily he accepted his monstrosity. He leaned closer, until our noses almost touched. "If something is truly mine, I'd never let it be placed on a scale. I don't compare what belongs to me." His lips curved in a low growl of amusement. "But if you want to climb off that scale, Aysel Vale... try harder." Try harder. My chest tightened. Was I something he could still measure, still weigh? Did he mean I should win him - prove myself precious enough that even an Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack would guard me like his hoarded moonstone? I had no such confidence. It was impossible to imagine a creature like Magnus Sanchez, the wolf called Rafe, losing control for anyone. But still, I asked softly, "And how exactly should I try, Magnus?"We were too close. My words brushed his mouth. The scent of pine and wild mint from his skin tangled with the faint trail of green tea soap on mine. His pupils flared; the air thickened. I saw his throat move as he inhaled. His breathing grew rough, primal - a rumble building in his chest that wasn't entirely human. Just as the tension coiled between us, a sharp chime echoed through the den. A visitor. Magnus stilled. His expression darkened. I rose, wrapping the fur throw tighter around myself, but before I could move, his hand caught my wrist. "Stay." His voice was low, edged. "That scent..." But I already knew. It was Damon. Even through the rainstorm that battered the mountainside, I could recognize the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack - the one who had once promised me the moon and delivered a shadow. "Open the door, Aysel!" His voice carried through the downpour, raw, desperate. "Please - I just need to know you're safe!" I froze near the entrance. I could sense Magnus behind me, silent as a storm on the verge of breaking. The pounding continued. "Aysel, I know you're in there! I just want to see you-" The latch snapped open. I stepped into the threshold, rain spilling over the stone steps, my hair damp, my skin prickling from the cold. A heavy coat - Magnus's - had been thrown around my shoulders, swallowing me in his scent. Damon stood before me, dripping wet, his eyes widening. "Aysel!" He looked older than I remembered, the proud Alpha stripped down to a soaked wolf begging at another's door. But the ache I'd once felt for him was gone. "Leave." My voice cut clean through the rain. "Disturb my den again, and I'll have the patrols drive you from my territory."He flinched, disbelief flashing across his face. "Aysel, I'm your mate." I met his gaze, cold as moonlight on steel. "You were my mate," I corrected. "The moment you chose her, the bond burned to ash." He stared at me like he didn't understand the language of wolves anymore. "I just want to talk. After all we've been through-" "I'm done talking." I stepped forward, claws unsheathing slightly against the wood. "Your presence dishonors both of us. I won't let this end in blood, Damon, so go. Take what's left of your pride and leave me my silence." For a heartbeat, his wolf glimmered behind his eyes - pain, regret, that old protectiveness. "We've known each other since we were pups," he said hoarsely. "I'll stay away from Celestine, I swear it-" I smiled without warmth. "And if I asked you to see her dead?" His breath hitched. "Aysel-she doesn't deserve that. You two... it's a misunderstanding."