POV: Aria Wolfe

“Why is this happening now of all times?” Aria groaned, throwing her hands in the air as she paced her living room.

“I thought the most shocking part of today was being assigned Lysander’s case. But no! I also have to face... him.”

She stopped and spun toward Clara, her voice rising with disbelief.

“Dominic! How?!”

She screamed again and resumed pacing, her bare feet clicking against the marble floor.

“Please, ma... be calm,” Clara said gently, watching her boss unravel. She had followed Aria home because she’d seen the storm brewing back at the office—and didn’t trust leaving her alone.

Aria’s living room was a modern masterpiece: gold-accented furniture, rich velvet drapes, soft lighting. A space that usually calmed her now felt suffocating.

She yanked off her heels with a grimace.

“These damn shoes! I swear they’re trying to kill me.”

“Let me help you,” Clara offered, moving quickly to take them.

“Thanks,” Aria muttered. Her voice had lost its usual steel edge.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Clara asked.

“Definitely,” Aria said, rubbing her temples.

Clara disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later.

“Here you go, ma.”

Aria took the glass without a word. The water was cold. It grounded her. Just barely.

I must win this case, she thought, gripping the glass like a lifeline. I don’t care who I’m facing. I must win.

The clock ticked quietly as dusk fell outside the wide windows. Shadows crept along the walls.

“I need to get going, ma,” Clara finally said.

“Oh. Thank you, Clara. For everything.”

Clara stood, and Aria walked her to the door.

“Bye,” Aria said with a tired wave.

“Goodnight, ma.”

As soon as the door closed, Aria turned on her heel and headed upstairs.

No dinner. No distractions.

She collapsed into bed fully clothed and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

---

The Next Morning

“Ugh... my head...” Aria groaned, clutching her temples as she sat up slowly.

Her sleep had been deep but unrestful. Her dreams had been filled with tangled memories—of courtrooms, howling wolves, blood on marble floors... and Dominic’s piercing stare.

“I need to grab some painkillers on the way,” she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed.

She dressed with mechanical precision, choosing a sleek grey suit that hugged her curves and spoke of power. Today wasn’t about fashion. It was about control.

“Mr. Charles will already be waiting,” she murmured, grabbing her bag and heading downstairs.

“Good morning, ma,” Mr. Charles greeted as she stepped outside.

“Morning,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

He opened the door for her, and she slipped into the back seat.

“Please be ready by afternoon,” she told him as he started the engine. “I have a court appearance.”

“Pre-trial?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Yes. It's not the full trial yet, just an initial confrontation. A... very complicated one.”

The rest of the drive was quiet.

---

They arrived at the Lycan High Court—a stunning structure that combined gothic design with shimmering supernatural enhancements. Towering pillars carved with runes lined the walkway. The very air shimmered with latent magic.

Mr. Charles pulled up near the steps.

“We’re here, ma.”

Aria blinked. She had been staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Oh. Thank you.”

She stepped out, straightened her shoulders, and adjusted her bag. Her outfit was perfect. Her expression was composed. She was the picture of strength.

She ate and left no crumbs.

---

Inside, the courtroom buzzed with energy.

Council-appointed guards stood along the walls in dark uniforms, eyes alert. The room’s high ceiling bore the crest of the Shadewolf Alliance, and rows of benches filled with officials, emissaries, and a few key witnesses murmured amongst themselves.

And then she saw him.

Dominic Blackthorne.

Crown Prosecutor. Son of a noble Alpha line. Her fated mate.

He stood on the opposite side of the room, tall and severe in a perfectly tailored black suit. His silver eyes met hers, and the air shifted.

Thump.

Her heartbeat faltered.

So did his.

Their eyes locked.

The bond stirred.

Pre-trial protocol began. Judges took their places. Questions were exchanged. Rules clarified.

Aria answered every one calmly, but her mind was at war.

Dominic spoke sharply, professionally, but his voice—gods, that voice—still knew how to get under her skin.

As the session closed, both parties moved toward the table to exchange preliminary documents.

And that’s when it happened.

Their hands brushed.

Bare skin to bare skin.

A spark. A jolt. A flash of gold behind the eyes.

Her wolf screamed.

His eyes darkened.

His jaw tensed.

And for a split second, the courtroom faded.

There was no one else. Just them. Just two wolves, bonded and broken, suddenly dragged back to life.

A faint growl echoed.

Gasps spread across the room.

Someone dropped a pen.

Aria yanked her hand back as if burned.

Dominic’s pupils dilated.

The judges watched, silent but knowing.

The Council was now aware.

The dormant bond between the Crown Prosecutor and the Defense Counsel had not only survived rejection…

It was reawakening.