Aria’s POV

"I need to do my research on the werewolf laws that apply to rogue-borns and capital crimes,” Aria muttered, standing in the center of her private study.

Her study was her sanctuary lined with towering oak shelves filled with old leather-bound texts and glowing crystal lamps that bathed the room in warm amber light. On her mahogany desk lay a thick, dust-covered volume: The Act of Werewolf Justice and Crime, 12th Council Edition.

Wearing a silk robe and soft indoor slippers, Aria sat on the plush velvet chair and flipped open the tome. The pages crackled with age and power, marked with clawed script and enchanted ink. She pushed her reading glasses up her nose and leaned in.

“Hmmm...” she hummed, scanning pages filled with laws dating back to the first Lunar Pact.

For hours, she remained buried in the book, occasionally scribbling notes in her legal pad. Sunlight gave way to dusk as she lost track of time, until her eyes caught something that made her freeze.

“Protection of Rogue-Born Wolves under the Ancient Pact Law.”

Aria’s fingers trembled slightly as she read aloud. “No rogue wolf, once registered under the Prime Circle or trained by a recognized Elder, may be condemned to execution without a full Council hearing—one in which the defense must be chosen freely and the evidence laid bare without magical interference.”

Her heart raced.

"This is it," she whispered, then repeated with joy, "This is it!"

She jumped up from her chair, her long silk robe swishing around her ankles. Relief and triumph coursed through her veins like wildfire.

“I found the loophole. They broke their own law.” Her voice was steady, but her wolf howled in satisfaction.

Just then, a quiet knock on the door broke her victorious trance.

“Good afternoon, ma,” said the weekend cleaner, Lara, poking her head in.

Aria blinked, adjusting to the present. “Oh. Hi, Lara.”

“I just finished with the cleaning,” Lara said. She noticed the mountain of books and scrolls piled on Aria’s desk. “Wow, these books look... intense.”

Aria gave a soft smile and nodded. “They are. But they’re helping me solve something important.”

She walked to her room, retrieved Lara’s payment, and handed her a crisp envelope.

“Here you go. Thanks for your help today.”

Lara’s face brightened. “Thank you so much, ma. I’ll see you next weekend?”

“Of course. And send my regards to your son,” Aria replied warmly.

After Lara left, Aria walked downstairs into her elegant kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out a chilled bottle of mango juice, and poured herself a glass. She added a few crackers and strawberries to a plate, then returned upstairs, sipping and snacking as she resumed her reading.

She flipped to another bookmarked page on trial procedures involving magical interference. Her brows furrowed as she uncovered more council-level violations.

“No evidence collected or altered by rune binding shall be admissible in court.”

“All holding cells must be free of magical sedation unless danger to the realm is imminent.”

“Yet Lysander’s being shackled with rune-infused restraints,” she murmured.

Her wolf stirred.

Aria felt it too—something far deeper than legal injustice. They weren’t just breaking laws. They were hiding something.

She leaned back in her chair, exhausted but determined. Her body ached, her mind buzzed, and her wolf remained restless. The stress of the week had taken a toll, but the thrill of the legal breakthrough was too great to ignore.

The next thing she knew, she had fallen asleep with a quill in hand and a page of notes under her cheek.

---

In the dream…

A shadow moved across her apartment. The moon hung low in the sky, bathing everything in a faint silver glow. Her wolf whined softly in warning.

Aria walked to the front door, drawn by a flickering sensation—an ancient magic in the air. She reached for the knob.

A ward. Faintly pulsing. A rune.

Glowing in red ink was a threat sigil carved into her door:

“Stay Silent.”

Her eyes widened as the magic sparked violently, like it had been set to burn anyone who touched it without consent. The warning wasn’t just magical—it was personal. Someone from the Council didn’t want her digging further.

She jerked awake, gasping for air.

Her heart thundered in her chest. It was still dark outside. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting eerie lines across her room.

She sat up and ran to the front door.

No rune.

But her wolf growled. “We’re being watched,” it whispered inside her mind.

---

Aria sat on her couch, staring at nothing.

The Council was supposed to uphold the law, not weaponize it. And yet here she was, uncovering broken codes, ancient protections ignored, and a web of deceit slowly unraveling around her client… and around herself.

She took her phone and called Clara.

“Ma’am?” Clara answered, half-asleep.

“I need you to get me copies of the trial records for Elder Thorne’s murder, and any internal council memos from the week before.”

“Right away, ma. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aria lied. “Just... focused.”

She hung up and stood by the window, looking up at the moon.

The same moon under which Dominic once rejected her. The same moon that governed their entire world. The bond between them, though buried, was stirring—and she had no doubt that if she kept pressing forward, someone would try to silence her.

But they’d have to kill her first.