Aria’s POV

"This is going to be a long and tough journey," Aria whispered to herself as she stepped out of the secured chamber where Lysander was kept in magical restraints. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor, echoing down the sterile corridor.

Despite the emotional turbulence swirling within her, she held her head high. Her tailored suit hugged her frame in quiet elegance, and her walk radiated confidence. Years of training in both law and war had sculpted her into a woman who never let her inner storm show on her face.

"Please, start driving," she instructed as she slid into the back seat of her car.

"Okay, ma," her driver responded.

"Are we still heading to the relaxation center?" he asked.

"Yes," Aria nodded, grateful for the reminder. "Thank you."

The relaxation center wasn’t just a luxury—it was her sanctuary. Nestled within a serene valley outside the city, it was a place where her mind could unravel and be reborn in silence. Here, she didn't need to be a barrister, a council member, or a broken mate. She could simply be Aria.

As the cityscape blurred past the windows, Aria leaned back and closed her eyes. The image of Lysander wounded, restrained, but strangely defiant clung to her thoughts. She needed clarity. Especially with Dominic Blackthorne—her ex-mate—on the opposite side of the courtroom.

Her wolf stirred inside her, restless and alert.

---

Dominic’s POV

The golden morning sun streamed through the windows of the Blackthorne estate, spilling over the rich mahogany furniture and polished marble floors. The estate—sprawling and proud—mirrored the legacy of Dominic’s lineage. His father, Alpha Magnus Blackthorne, ruled not only the family but a significant portion of the Council’s inner circle.

Dominic emerged from his room in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled at the cuffs. He found his father already seated at the breakfast table, reading an old parchment scroll.

"Good morning, Dad," Dominic greeted, dropping a kiss on his father’s head.

"Hi, my son," Magnus replied, his voice gravelly with age but still laced with authority. A proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A maid entered and set down bowls of oatmeal infused with herbs specially prepared by their nutritionist to sustain a wolf’s strength and clarity of thought.

They ate in near silence, the kind bred by comfort and familiarity.

"I’ll be heading to the Council meeting shortly," Dominic said, sipping his tea.

Magnus set his spoon down. "I remembered. Be cautious, son. Aria isn't just another barrister she’s dangerous. That girl must be removed from Lysander’s defense."

Dominic didn’t immediately respond. He knew Aria was a formidable opponent perhaps the only one who had ever truly challenged him.

"I understand, Dad," he said finally, wearing a thin smile. "But I need to play this my way."

"Just remember," Magnus warned, eyes narrowing, "her blood could ruin us all."

---

Later that Morning — Council House

The Council House stood tall, a grand building carved from enchanted stone, with vines of moonroot trailing its outer walls. Dominic stepped out of his car, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer as he walked through the main entrance.

"Good morning, Barrister Blackthorne," the receptionist greeted with a respectful nod.

"Morning," he returned smoothly, barely breaking stride.

"The Council members are already waiting," said another attendant.

Dominic climbed the marble staircase two steps at a time, his polished shoes never faltering. He walked into the council chamber where eleven elders were already seated in their circular thrones.

"Good morning," he said, bowing slightly.

"Good morning, Barrister," they chorused.

One of the senior elders, Councilor Rowan, stood. "We all know why we're gathered here."

A quiet hush settled over the room.

Elder Thorne was dead. Murdered. And Lysander—the rogue—was the accused.

But Dominic’s instincts screamed something deeper was at play.

As Rowan recited the official case summary again, Dominic noted the omissions. Why wasn’t Thorne’s last known location mentioned? Why wasn’t there a witness list?

Too clean. Too controlled.

"I promise to uncover the truth," Dominic said firmly. "Not just the killer—but anyone hiding behind Council shadows."

A few elders exchanged glances.

Dominic’s words were both a promise—and a threat.

---

Afternoon — After the Meeting

"Dominic, well done," one of the elders said as they exited the chamber.

"Send my regards to your father," another added.

"Of course," Dominic replied politely.

As he approached his car, Anthony, his long-time driver, opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blackthorne. Hope the meeting went well?"

"As well as it could," Dominic muttered.

"I got you something to eat," Anthony said, offering a small container of meat pastries.

"You're a lifesaver," Dominic chuckled, already digging in.

They drove home in silence, Dominic chewing thoughtfully.

He hated this game of secrets and smiles. Someone in that Council chamber was lying. And it was up to him to find out who.

---

Evening — Blackthorne Estate

"Welcome back, sir," a maid greeted, taking Dominic’s briefcase.

"Thank you," he said, ascending the stairs to change. Minutes later, he was back downstairs, hunger gnawing at him.

"I'm famished," he said to the cook, who quickly plated him a steaming dish of jollof rice and tender beef strips.

Just as he was on his fifth spoon, Magnus entered the dining hall.

"Hey Dad," Dominic greeted, setting down his fork. "I didn’t realize you were up."

"Please, eat," Magnus said with a wave.

Dominic continued, emptying his plate in record time.

"You look like a man who’s been through war," his father said with a chuckle.

"More like verbal combat," Dominic replied.

He recounted the meeting—the missing details, the vague accusations.

"You see?" Magnus leaned forward, his voice tight. "This is why Aria must be removed. She’s smart enough to dig. Smart enough to expose things we buried years ago."

"Then maybe we shouldn’t have buried them," Dominic muttered under his breath.

Magnus’s eyes flashed. "You’re getting soft. I trained you better than that."

Dominic stood, wiping his hands. "No, Dad. You trained me to fight for what’s right. Not cover up corpses with polished words."

He turned and walked toward the stairs, his wolf pacing restlessly within him.

And in the back of his mind, one name whispered like a howl in the night: Aria.