Aysel's POV I followed Magnus into the grand hall where the charity auction buzzed with the scent of ambition and power. This was our first official appearance together since the birthday banquet. The air was thick with tension, like the warning growl before a hunt. Every eye turned toward us immediately, assessing, measuring. I could feel the subtle sniff of curiosity and envy, the same way a wolf gauges a rival in the wild. To my surprise, I spotted Celestine and Damon across the hall. Of course-they were the betrothed, Moonvale and Blackwood Packs' young representatives, here to maintain appearances and repair bruised pride. Damon instinctively withdrew the arm Celestine had been holding. Celestine's gaze fell, hesitant, unreadable. But I didn't spare either of them a glance. My focus tonight had a single target, and it wasn't them. There was a thrill in walking beside Magnus. His presence alone cleared the way; his aura, sharp and territorial, made it impossible for anyone to interfere. We moved through the hall with ease, reaching a private viewing box. I arranged the fruit and snacks in front of me, as if laying out spoils after a successful hunt, my curiosity flaring. "So... who exactly is it?" I asked, my amber eyes scanning the room below. The hall was a nest of observation and subtle challenge. The twin sons of Magnus's uncle were here, flitting about politely, trying not to overstep. Earlier, they'd been bold, but with Magnus beside me, their courage had vanished. They whispered among themselves, barely raising their bidding paddles. Rudi Sanchez, the youngest daughter, sat beside her husband's family, while her son, Noah, shrank at the sight of me-as if he'd seen a predator stalking his territory. Memories of the family banquet flickered-he'd gotten a taste of my bite before, and I could tell the lesson hadn't been forgotten. Other Sanchez Pack members moved through the crowd, each asserting dominance in their own circles. Some approached respectfully, some tried to manipulate. Magnus watched it all, his calm Alpha demeanor sending subtle signals that only the observant could read. I allowed myself a small smile, amused by the predictable rituals of pack politics. Magnus, ever composed, poured tea, the motion precise, controlled, a predator in repose. I studied him-how easily the hunter can be at peace when he chooses, how dual the nature of Alpha can be. When he handed me the cup, he spoke a name. My ears twitched, my pulse quickened. "Really... him?" I murmured, surprised. First impressions are treacherous in our world; I had expected the most impatient of the Sanchez Pack-the one who lost her composure at the family banquet-to be the true target. But no. It was this quiet, controlled presence, the one who commanded respect without a growl. The auction had begun. I rested my chin on my hand, eyes flicking to the first lot: a pair of antique emerald earrings, gleaming like trapped spirits. Magnus glanced at me."Anything you want, take it. Tonight's selection is minor. Next time, I'll take you to a proper auction," he said, his voice low, carrying authority without arrogance. I grinned, fangs just slightly visible. "Then I won't hold back." "By all means," he replied, casual but firm, a predator allowing his mate a taste of power. I surveyed the hall. Moonvale members were scattered, some bold, some cautious. Even those who had been confident earlier now hesitated under Magnus's gaze. Each movement, each subtle shift in posture spoke volumes-I understood it all. When the next, more valuable item appeared, I raised my paddle, voice clear and resonant: "Two million five hundred thousand." The auctioneer froze for a heartbeat, then nodded. I felt the thrill in my chest-the excitement of dominance, the rush of staking claim. In this pack-driven world, tonight was a hunt, and I was ready to claim my prize.