The metallic door groaned as Aria stepped into the Council's subterranean holding cell. Coldness clung to the walls like a second skin, but it wasn’t just the temperature that made her shiver—it was the magic. It pulsed faintly, humming beneath her feet, threaded through the stone floor and into the silver runes etched into every inch of the chamber.

Lysander sat motionless, shackled to a stone bench in the center of the cell. His wrists were bound in silver cuffs carved with ancient council runes—restraints designed not just to bind the body, but to suppress the wolf within. His skin glistened with sweat, and a faint tremor rippled through his muscles. His eyes—storm-gray and dimmed by exhaustion lifted slowly to meet hers.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, voice rasping like gravel.

“I had to see you,” Aria replied softly, stepping further into the room.

The moment she crossed the threshold, her wolf stirred. The magical restraints recoiled slightly at her presence, the runes glowing with a sharper pulse. Her connection to Lysander was faint, a low thrum beneath her skin. They weren’t bonded, not in the way she once was to Dominic—but something primal responded to him nonetheless.

“They’re keeping me sedated,” Lysander added. “Not with drugs. With magic. Dampening spells, laced into the runes. I can barely shift. Barely think straight.”

Aria’s jaw tightened. “That’s illegal, even by Council standards. You’re supposed to be held, not tortured.”

He gave a bitter laugh, weak and sardonic. “Tell that to Elder Thorne’s allies. They want a quick trial and a quicker execution.”

Aria's pulse thudded in her ears. She glanced at the runes again. “This is bigger than a murder accusation. They’re silencing you—for a reason.”

A tense silence settled between them. Aria’s wolf pressed at her ribs, restless, protective. Then, without thinking, she reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Here,” she said, kneeling slightly to hand it to him. “You need this.”

Lysander hesitated, then took the bottle with shaking hands. “Thank you,” he murmured, and for a moment, the haunted look in his eyes softened. It was the first expression that resembled a smile she’d seen since his arrest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said, folding her arms. “But I need you to talk to me. I want to help you, but I need the truth.”

Lysander nodded faintly, then exhaled a shaky breath. “I didn’t kill Elder Thorne. I was framed.”

Aria studied his face. No deception. Just fatigue, pain and something else: fear. Not for himself, but for what she might uncover.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Start from the beginning. What happened that night?”

He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “I got a message—an official summon from Elder Thorne. Said the Council wanted to meet with me privately. When I got there, it was just him. He claimed the others had to leave but told me to stay. He said he had a task for me.”

“What kind of task?” Aria asked, voice calm but firm.

“Not just one,” Lysander replied. “A series of assignments, beginning with tailing a certain Beta from the Northern Ridge Pack. Said he suspected corruption and needed... quiet hands to do his dirty work.”

“Quiet hands?” Aria’s brows drew together. “Meaning off-the-record?”

“Exactly,” Lysander said bitterly. “No written orders. No witnesses. Just his word—and now he’s dead. No one to confirm what he asked. And conveniently, I’m the last person who saw him alive.”

Aria paced slowly, the weight of his words coiling like smoke around her. “And you didn’t agree?”

“I didn’t get the chance,” he said. “I asked questions—too many, apparently. I told him I wouldn’t move without knowing the truth. That’s when things shifted. He grew tense, dismissive. Told me to leave and warned me not to speak of our meeting.”

Aria tilted her head. “But someone knew you were there.”

“Yes,” Lysander said. “And they used it. A few hours later, I was surrounded by Council guards and accused of murder. They claimed they found traces of my aura in the chamber where Thorne was found—convenient, since I’d just been there. But I swear to you, Aria, when I left, he was alive.”

Aria’s heart pounded. She could feel the weight of this unraveling web, and it was darker than she’d feared.

“There’s more,” Lysander added, eyes narrowing. “I found something—just before the guards arrived. A sigil burned into the wall. Not one of ours. Not even Council standard. It reeked of forbidden magic.”

“A rune?” Aria asked quickly. “I saw one too. Hidden in the case files. Someone is tampering with evidence.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re walking into something far bigger than a murder trial. The Council isn’t just covering something up they’re using me as a scapegoat to protect secrets they don’t want unearthed.”

“And Dominic?” Aria said his name carefully, watching for a reaction. “Where does he fit into this?”

Lysander’s jaw tensed. “He knows. Maybe not everything but enough. And he’s still protecting the wrong side.”

Aria’s breath caught. Her mind reeled, juggling a thousand threads: Dominic’s cold gaze at the Council chambers, the runes, the sealed case file, the unease she couldn’t name and now, Lysander’s revelation.

“What do they gain by killing Elder Thorne?” she asked, trying to find a foothold.

Lysander leaned back, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. “Thorne was corrupt, but he was also reckless. He kept records. He had leverage over other Council members. Maybe someone decided it was time to erase him—and everything he knew.”

Aria didn’t respond immediately. She could feel the sting of truth in his words. Her instincts—both human and wolf—howled in agreement.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said again, voice quieter now.

“I had to,” she replied, her tone fierce. “You’re not just a client, Lysander. You’re a symbol. If the Council can sacrifice you to protect itself, they can do the same to anyone. I won’t let that happen.”

A flicker of hope glinted in his eyes. “Then be careful. Whatever you think you know it’s just the surface. Dig deeper, and you might not like what you find.”

Aria nodded. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

As she turned to leave, her wolf snarled softly inside her. Not in fear but in warning.

The real hunt had just begun.