Third Person's POV By nine in the morning, the stillness of Aysel's small den was shattered by the sharp trill of the door chime. Jackson arrived first, trailed by a full entourage of stylists, tailors, and attendants-each carrying sleek cases of enchanted gowns and gleaming ornaments forged from moonstone and starlit silver. The tiny apartment was instantly overwhelmed; racks of highborn attire and jeweled collars had to remain in the corridor, glinting under the dim packlight like treasures left at the gate of a humble hut. The contrast was jarring. The air smelled faintly of rosemary and damp fur, not luxury perfume. A few attendants exchanged uneasy glances-surely the Alpha of Shadowbane wouldn't bring his chosen female to live in such a small, mortal space? But Jackson's warning still rang in their ears: "Today, everything revolves around Miss Vale. No staring, no gossiping, no sniffing around where you shouldn't." Lisa, the head stylist from the Beauty Atelier, had nodded firmly at that. She had dressed royals and Alphas before, but this commission was different-Magnus Sanchez had requested an in-den service for the first time in his life. For a woman. His woman. The entire capital would howl about it for weeks. Her own rival atelier-the Runeclaw Couture House-had long boasted of its claim to the high packs. Today, she intended to crush them. If she pleased the Shadowbane Alpha, she'd own the fashion world by nightfall. Head held high, Lisa stepped into the den, heels clicking smartly against the floor. No matter how temperamental this female was, I'll have her radiant enough to make the full moon shy, she thought. Then she saw her. Aysel lay half-curled on the sofa, eyes half-open, wrapped in a thin blanket of twilight silk. Her hair shimmered like moonlight caught in water, her skin pale against the dark cushions. The faint, electric hum of her dormant Alpha scent prickled across the room-restrained, but dangerous. And beside her- Magnus Sanchez, the great Shadowbane wolf himself, was crouched with one knee on the couch, one hand gripping her slender ankle. His bare forearm flexed, veins pulsing faintly with shifting wolf energy. The air reeked of tension, dominance, and... lemon. Apparently, he'd woken her by feeding her a wedge of sour citrus.Aysel, still foggy from sleep, had retaliated with a swift kick-right into the Alpha's backside. To Lisa's horror, the moment she pushed open the door, that exact scene was frozen before her: the Moonvale female glaring in indignation, Magnus unruffled, one hand holding her captive ankle. The entire team froze, tails metaphorically tucked. But Magnus didn't so much as flinch. Calm as moonlit stone, he snatched the nearest throw from the couch and draped it over Aysel's legs, covering the flash of bare skin that could have melted any male in the room. "Morning, Alpha," Jackson muttered quickly, bowing his head. He'd seen worse. Didn't see anything, he told himself. Lisa's heart pounded. By the gods, she kicked the Rafe of Shadowbane! She half expected him to snap her leg like a twig. Instead, he adjusted the blanket, brushed her hair aside, and murmured something under his breath-something too low and intimate for any of them to hear. Aysel sat upright, instantly transforming-wide-eyed, innocent, her voice soft as spring rain. "You're early," she said, polite and mild. Jackson coughed meaningfully, snapping the rest of the staff out of their daze. "Well? What are you waiting for? Move." Lisa recovered her composure. She directed the crew with swift precision-gowns in the hallway, light fixtures adjusted, scent diffusers activated. She dismissed all but the essential stylists, ensuring the room didn't grow too crowded. When the air finally settled, she approached the pair with a bow. "Miss Vale," she began smoothly, "we've brought several options from the capital's couture houses. You may select what feels... right." Aysel regarded her calmly, the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth-gracious, yet impossibly regal. Her aura was that of a wolf who had survived the hunt and learned to command silence. Lisa felt her pulse quicken. Goddess, this wasn't some mortal beauty. This was a creature shaped by ancient moons. "Do you have any preferred style or vision for the evening?" Lisa managed to ask. Before Aysel could reply, Magnus spoke from the couch, voice low, edged with authority that made every wolf in the room straighten instinctively. "Dress her first," he said. "I'll follow her lead." Lisa's eyes widened slightly. In a world where Alphas ruled and Lunas adorned, such words were near sacrilege. Yet his tone carried no jest. The Rafe of Shadowbane would bend to no one-except perhaps this moon-eyed girl from the fallen Moonvale Pack. Lisa bowed again, her heart hammering. "Understood, Alpha. Miss Vale, shall we begin with the lunar silk gown?" Aysel nodded faintly. The sunlight caught her profile then-elegant, distant, unbending. And though the air was thick with the scent of dominance and devotion, she looked, for that fleeting moment, like the last wolf left standing after a blood moon war. Lisa couldn't help thinking-no matter what Magnus Sanchez planned for tonight's gathering, when Aysel stepped into the light, every pack in the realm would remember her name.