Magnus's POV From the moment Aysel declared herself free of the Moonvale Pack, I knew the world would no longer be the same. Even if her parents tried to speak again on her behalf-announce a betrothal, a merger, a marriage-no one in the Wolf Courts would recognize it now. The oath she'd broken tonight had echoed through the hall like thunder, witnessed by every Alpha and Luna present. Bonds like that don't mend. Luna Evelyn stared at her daughter as if struck blind. I could smell her confusion-sour, heavy, drenched in regret. All of this, over a single bracelet. That's what she thought. She couldn't see the years of coldness beneath it, how a thousand small wounds could turn into a clean severing of the soul. The guests, however, understood. Wolves know when cruelty festers. They could scent it in the air tonight-how deeply this pack had starved their own blood. Every word, every revelation had been another blow to the heart of their so-called daughter. And Aysel spoke with the confidence of one who owed nothing. No land titles, no pack shares, no money tainting her independence. She was free in every sense that mattered. When the crowd dispersed, Fenrir stayed behind, shoulders slumped, the fire of an heir turned to ash. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked, voice rough. Across the room, Aysel stood in the silver light pouring through the glass dome, her expression carved in ice. The mark of the Moon Goddess pulsed faintly at her wrist-a sign that her old oath to Moonvale was gone, replaced by something new. "‘No ties, no debts,'" he whispered bitterly. "Even if Moonvale doesn't agree, everyone saw what you did tonight. Backed by Shadowbane's Alpha, no one will question it. Tomorrow the whole realm will know." His voice broke. "Was it necessary to go this far?" Aysel only laughed softly-a sound that was more wound than amusement. "I tried gentler ways," she said. "But tell me, Fenrir-did any of you ever listen?" Her words cut like fang through flesh. She went on, quiet but merciless. "If I hadn't fought back tonight, I'd still be at your mercy-shamed before every pack, forced into a bond with a man who didn't love me, condemned to be mocked again when he betrayed me. Tell me, Fenrir, would you have protected me then?" "You can't know that," he murmured."I do," she said simply. "Because your actions have told me the answer a hundred times over." He faltered. I could see it-the pain spreading through him like frostbite, the first time the truth had pierced his heart. He knew she was right. When Celestine Ward was hurt, they would have burned kingdoms for her. But when Aysel bled, they asked her to smile, to forgive. And now, standing in the ruins of their family's pride, he could no longer deny it. Aysel looked at him one last time, her smile calm, almost kind. "It's over, Fenrir." Then she turned toward me. "Let's go," she said. Her hand found mine, small but steady. I brushed a thumb over her knuckles and ruffled her hair the way my wolf liked to-claiming, protective, final. The Moonvale Hall smelled of smoke and dying embers, and for the first time, she didn't belong there. Bad soil can't raise a rose. But if the soil changes-if it's transplanted-maybe the rose can finally bloom. And so we left, hand in hand, stepping out into the cold night, away from a house that could no longer call itself home. We hadn't made it far before Luna Evelyn's cry split the air behind us. She rushed forward, eyes wild, grabbing Aysel's hand as tears streamed down her cheeks. "No! You can't cut ties! Aysel, I'm your mother. You can't cast me aside!" Aysel's wolf stirred-calm, resolute. She gently freed herself. "You were the one who cast me aside." Evelyn shook her head desperately. "No, I didn't. I only cared more for Celestine because she's weak, she needs-" "Luna Evelyn." My voice stopped her cold. The room seemed to shrink around us. The Alpha command in my tone wasn't shouted-it didn't need to be. Every wolf in the hall froze. "There's no point repeating old lies," I said, my gaze sweeping over the Moonvale Alphas. "I've heard enough of them." I took a step forward, my wolf's presence rippling through the air, cold as iron and unyielding as winter. "A car crash claimed lives," I said softly, dangerously. "And instead of finding the driver, you blamed a six-year-old pup." My eyes met Evelyn's, then Remus's. Neither could hold my stare. "Pathetic," I finished. "And unworthy of the name Moonvale." I had meant to end the conversation when I told them the truth-that no parent should ever blame a six-year-old pup for tragedy. But the more I looked at the Moonvale Alphas, the more disgust twisted in my chest. "If we're to reason this out," I said, voice low, the weight of command humming beneath it, "then tell me-what punishment should fall upon the parents who failed to protect their own six-year-old daughter?" Gasps rippled through the hall. I didn't raise my voice; I didn't need to. The air itself carried my words, cold and sharp as moonlight on steel. "Even if Aysel had truly caused that accident," I continued, "the laws of the Wolf Courts would never condemn a child. Yet you, her parents, have bound her for life with guilt that was never hers to bear." I could see Luna Evelyn flinch. Alpha Remus's eyes darted away. They knew. I turned slightly, letting the crowd hear what came next. "As for Celestine Ward..." I let her name hang in the air like a faint, bitter perfume. "Her father was a violent gambler-rotting in prison. Her mother, a quiet wolf with no trade or skill. Being taken into Moonvale was her salvation. Her life was rewritten by privilege, not tragedy." A murmur swept through the gathered wolves. I pressed on. "She's had wealth, family, protection, and a name that was never hers to begin with. Tell me-where is her suffering in that?" I looked back at them, my tone flat and merciless. "Meanwhile, your true-born daughter had nothing." The truth stung. It always does. Wolves shifted uneasily; even those who didn't like me couldn't deny logic when it cut this cleanly. "Cold as it may sound," I added, "a commoner's death would never be worth what Celestine spends on a single jeweled collar."The crowd stirred, whispers sharp and low. "Alpha Magnus!" Celestine herself stepped forward then, fury flashing through the tears she had so carefully arranged on her cheeks. She looked like every wounded saint in the history books-tragic, trembling, perfect for pity. "You can favor Aysel all you like," she said, her voice quivering, "but don't you dare belittle my mother's death. If I could trade everything I have to bring her back, I would! You don't understand how much I loved her!" Her words trembled with passion, and I saw the room soften. The Moonvale wolves looked at her with pity, guilt washing over their faces again. Pathetic. They would fall for the same performance, over and over again. To them, I was the cold one-the "heartless Alpha" who knew nothing of love or family. But I'd seen too many wolves like Celestine Ward-clutching their sorrow with one hand while counting their spoils with the other. She spoke of letting go, yet her claws never released what was never hers. I didn't even bother answering her. My wolf bristled with disdain. I turned instead to Alpha Remus, who was now helping a trembling Luna Evelyn stay upright. "Tell me, Alpha," I said quietly, "were your actions truly to atone for your daughter's supposed sins-or merely to polish your own reputation?" He froze. My gaze swept over the Moonvale elders. "Let's not pretend you don't know which it is. I don't wish to hear the word ‘guilt' from your mouths again. You've twisted it enough." Celestine went rigid, the first flicker of humiliation coloring her face as I turned my back on her completely. But the look on Remus's face-that haunted, cornered expression-told me everything. He knew I was right. He had never truly believed Aysel guilty. He had only feared the whispers: that he'd traded wives, that his trueborn daughter had inherited her mother's curse, that he was a man who destroyed women. So he'd chosen the easier road-raising the borrowed child higher, pressing his own blood lower, until his guilt felt like virtue.Luna Evelyn, kind to a fault, had done the same. Guilt had turned to indulgence, indulgence to habit. They called it love, but it was cowardice. The scent of salt and regret filled the air. Evelyn broke down first, sobbing uncontrollably. "Aysel!" she cried, trying to rush forward, but Remus held her back. He knew this was the end. He could smell it too-the finality in my aura, the closing of all paths. Even if they begged, they could never reclaim her now. Morality is a leash for wolves too weak to break it. Aysel and I had no use for it. I tightened my grip on her hand, guiding her out of the hall. Her silence was steady, her heartbeat even. Behind us, the Moonvale Pack fell into a suffocating quiet. Lykos, the youngest, stood by the wall, his expression dazed. He was just now realizing the truth-that the "evil" sister he'd hated had been the one bleeding all along. I didn't look back. They weren't worth her tears, or my time. The night wind outside smelled of snow and freedom. Aysel lifted her face toward the moon, and my wolf rumbled deep in my chest. Let them choke on their guilt. From this night onward, Aysel Vale belonged to no pack but mine.