POV: Aria Wolfe

“This is going to be tough, but I will win,” Aria said out loud, steeling herself.

One thing Aria Wolfe never did was break under pressure. Not in court. Not in life. Not even when her past clawed its way into the present.

Her phone buzzed.

“Are we going now, ma?” Mr. Charles’s voice came through the Bluetooth speaker.

“Oh! Yes. We can proceed. Please—I need to grab some food on the way. I’m starving,” she replied with a sigh, grabbing her bag.

As she stepped into the car, the weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders. She leaned back against the leather seat, closing her eyes for just a second.

Her routine was usually air tight, structured, and intentional. She liked it that way. Her days were built around preparation and control. But lately, the routine was cracking.

She couldn’t focus.

Her thoughts drifted to him again.

Dominic.

They had once been everything to each other. He had been her fated mate, her partner in all things. She had loved him with every fiber of her being. And for a while, he had loved her back—in the way he knew how.

But under the cold light of the Blood Moon, he had rejected her.

Without explanation. Without mercy.

The wound had never fully healed.

“We’re at the restaurant already, ma,” Mr. Charles announced gently, breaking her thoughts.

“Oh. Please help me get the food—for yourself, too. I’m too tired to go inside,” she murmured, barely opening her eyes.

“Yes, ma,” he said and got out of the car.

She rested her head against the window. The memories flooded back, uninvited. Dominic’s laughter. His lips brushing her neck. The night he’d held her as her wolf shifted for the first time. And then… the look in his eyes when he turned his back and walked away.

She told herself she no longer loved him. But deep down, something still flickered.

The car door opened again.

“Here’s the food, ma,” Mr. Charles said, placing the bags on the seat beside her.

Aria nodded faintly. She was a regular at the restaurant. In fact, she paid a monthly retainer just to avoid the hassle of payment each time.

As the car pulled into her driveway, Aria exhaled slowly.

“Thank you, Mr. Charles,” she said with a tired smile.

“Bye, ma.”

She dragged herself out of the car, through the front door, and into her home. Her movements were slow, uncoordinated. Her heels came off first, then her blazer. She collapsed on the couch, pulled her food container close, and began eating.

Cooking was a luxury she rarely had time for. Legal work consumed her days, and tonight had drained the last of her energy.

She finished the meal, then picked up her phone, mindlessly scrolling through her social media feed.

Before she realized it, her eyelids grew heavy.

And then… darkness.

---

The Next Morning

She woke up on the couch, blanket half-draped over her body, a crick in her neck.

“My head…” she groaned, touching her temples.

She stood slowly, made her way upstairs for a shower, and stood under the hot spray longer than usual. Today wasn’t about Dominic.

Today, she was finally going to meet her client—Lysander Vale.

He wasn’t just a name on a file. He had been her protector once, back when she was nothing more than a frightened wolf struggling through pack trials.

I owe him this.

She dressed in her usual elegant style: a black fitted blazer over tailored suit trousers, silver accessories to match. Her makeup was soft but powerful, a reminder of who she was—polished, unshaken, and deadly in court.

Mr. Charles was waiting, as always.

“Good morning, Mr. Charles,” she greeted him, stepping out the door.

“Good morning, ma,” he replied, stepping out to open the car door.

“We’re heading to the police station. I’m meeting my client.”

He gave a small nod. “Understood, ma.”

---

They arrived within minutes. The city’s supernatural precinct sat on the outskirts of the council’s territory, discreet but heavily protected.

Inside, the officers greeted her with respect.

“Good morning, ma,” one said. “You’re here to see Mr. Lysander?”

“Yes, I am.”

She was escorted to a private wing. Unlike the human holding cells, this area was fortified with silver bars and runes etched into the walls—meant to suppress even the most powerful werewolves.

“This way, ma.”

The officer opened the reinforced cell door.

Inside sat Lysander Vale, older and more worn than she remembered, but still carrying the strength of a warrior. His dark hair was tied back, and his golden eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

A spark of hope flickered in his expression.

“At least I have someone I can trust,” he murmured under his breath.

“Lysander…” Aria said softly. “How are you?”

There was a moment of silence between them. The air in the cell felt dense, like it carried the weight of everything unspoken between them.

She broke the silence.

“It’s going to be okay. But I need to know everything. Tell me what happened the night Elder Thorne was murdered.”

Lysander’s jaw tightened.

“I’m innocent,” he said flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

“I believe you,” she said. “But belief isn’t enough in court. I need facts. I need your truth.”

More silence.

“Lysander,” she urged.

He leaned forward, gaze shadowed. “I was framed. That’s the truth. And if you dig far enough, you’ll find who really did it.”

“Who?” she asked, voice low.

He paused. His eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know what Dominic is hiding,” he muttered.

Her heart skipped.

“Huh?” she blinked.

But he said no more. They stared at each other, an unspoken storm hanging between them.

> As Aria stepped out of the cell, the echo of Lysander’s words followed her like a shadow.

You don’t know what Dominic is hiding.

And deep in her chest, her wolf stirred uneasily