Magnus's POV To ease her nerves, I added, "All the gifts were given under your name, Aysel Vale-signed, sealed, and filed as voluntary offerings. The law of both humans and wolves stands with you." Her brows furrowed. For a moment, her wolf instincts warred with her human restraint. Then, as expected, she tried to wriggle away with humor. "Ah-well, you know me," she said, lips twitching. "If gold lands in front of me, I can't not pick it up." I laughed low in my throat, the sound vibrating through the air between us. "You picked me up too. Why hesitate over a few scraps of silver?" She blinked. "That's... actually fair." Her words made me grin. That was the problem with her-she didn't even realize how easily she disarmed me. Still, that stubborn look crossed her face again, half wary, half guilty, as if every gift I gave was a debt she'd someday be made to pay. I'd seen it before-in wolves raised under weaker packs, taught to flinch at generosity because it always came with chains. But my gifts were not traps. They were claims. A shadow flickered across the courtyard. Before I could warn her, a blur of fur launched itself from the gates. I moved on instinct-my wolf took the lead, body between hers and the incoming mass. Aysel collided into my chest, breath warm against my neck, hands clutching my jacket. My claws half-broke through my skin before I forced them back. And then the beast barked. Daron. My damn warhound. Aysel peered over my arm, eyes going wide. "This one's mine too?" She looked like she'd just been gifted the moon itself. Her joy hit me like a punch. I exhaled through a growl, half amusement, half disbelief. ...As always, my people had prepared too well. The manor was stocked, the wards sealed, even her favorite teas lined up in the kitchen. The Redmoon contractors had already delivered her clothes, though I'd ordered new ones besides. She wasn't going back to that tiny apartment. Not tonight. Not when every whisper in the packs would carry her name by dawn. Let them talk. Let them know. The Shadowbane Alpha doesn't take half-measures. Those who hid in the dark-the spies, the scavengers, the men who'd dared to follow her-would know what it means to trespass on my territory. ... Later, when we settled inside, I discovered that the mutt hadn't been part of my plan at all. Jackson had apparently sent Daron along, claiming that "a family triangle needs stability." A ridiculous excuse. In truth, the beast had become too much for anyone else to handle. The hound was bred for war-massive, sharp-minded, loyal to me alone. To most of my staff, he was a nightmare. They fed him from a distance, eyes averted, praying not to be bitten for breathing wrong. But with Aysel? "Daron, apple," she said from the sofa, voice light, commanding in a way she didn't even realize. The dog obeyed instantly, trotting back with an apple held gently in his teeth. She laughed-bright, melodic, utterly unguarded. I stood in the doorway, silent. She was radiant in the firelight, that feral grace in every motion. Even my wolf leaned forward, tail flicking, mine thrumming in our shared chest. If Jackson could see this, he'd lose his mind. That same dog ignored his best steaks, yet for Aysel he was a fool in love. The manor had gone utterly still. Every servant knew better than to interrupt. For once, the air was warm instead of cold. All were content. Except me. When I finally left the study and found myself alone in the hall, I stared down the long corridor lined with shadows and realized: sometimes, a house this large only amplifies silence.Then came the sound of claws. Daron trotted past me, tail high, a rose clenched delicately in his mouth-plucked from the garden without shame. The beast shot me a smug look, then strutted into the master suite as if to declare victory. I sighed. Even my own hound had chosen his Luna before I'd made it official.