Aria’s POV

Margaret’s gaze was ice. The woman who used to trail meekly behind Patrick now stood tall, her shoulders squared, her eyes gleaming with a sharp, awakened clarity. My wolf flicked her tail, intrigued.

"Sophia," Margaret murmured, a cruel little smile tugging at her lips. "Weren’t you just calling me mum, were you perhaps expecting someone else?"

I felt Sophia’s heartbeat spike.

"Of course I was just calling you mum," she stuttered, "how could it not be you?" Sophia laughed weakly. "Do I have another mom? You’re my one and only mom."

She forced the smile again. It quivered on her face like a dying flame.

Margaret didn’t give her the comfort she sought. She simply studied her, like a wolf circling prey, waiting to see how fast it would run.

I stayed close, silent in my warden uniform. My wolf claws dug into the inside of my skin, wanting to lunge, to rip through the bars and tear the lies right out of Sophia’s throat.

But I held still.

For now.

"Mom, how did Dad tell you I was here? I specifically asked him not to," Sophia said, trying to regain control, but her voice betrayed her.

"Sophia," Margaret said, voice like frost, "why are you in an Asterfell prison?"

Sophia’s face collapsed. "I... I... it’s not what it looks like—"

She launched into a performance, crocodile tears and trembling voice, like she’d rehearsed it for a jury of blind fools. My wolf scoffed, unimpressed.

The moment Sophia’s face crumpled, a pulse of anxiety rolled off her scent, sharp and sour. My wolf, lifted her head within me, ears pricked as if savoring the fear.

Sophia tried to recover, plastering on a shaky smile. "Now’s not the time to discuss this, Mom. Can you find a way to get me out?"

Desperation cracked through her voice like a clawed door splintering.

She probably thought Margaret’s bloodline would save her.

The Osborne of Asterfell. They were known as old money. Even after Margaret turned her back on her maternal family, the world still bowed in habit to that name.

Margaret only shook her head. "No."

That single syllable hit Sophia like a silver bullet.

She collapsed back onto the rusted metal bed, curling into herself like a wounded pup, wiping at tears that never truly fell.

"Just go."

The voice that came from her cell was hoarse, defeated and almost hollow.

Margaret stared at her through the barred window. Her eyes weren’t warm anymore; they were ice, cut from a glacier. For a heartbeat, her hand trembled with grief and betrayal.

Then Margaret straightened, her spine stiff, heels clacking away, her composure sharpened like a blade.

Sophia watched her leave, panic gripping her scent like frostbite. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, as if trying to calm the heartbeat hammering beneath her ribs.

She suddenly gasped. "Dad...he promised... he promised he’d get me out two days ago..."

Her voice shook, wild and frantic. "He can’t just leave me here."

"Warden!" she screamed, clinging to the bars. "Any news from my dad about bailing me out?"

I stepped forward then, playing the role I was wearing like another skin. Even with my scent masked, my instincts prowled restlessly beneath the surface.

The stench of rust and stale fear clung to the cell corridor.

"The Darvin Group won’t be posting your bail," I said, my voice steady. The words echoed like a death sentence dropped from the sky.

There was silence.

Then a soft, broken, "What...?"

She shook her head violently. "No. No—he’s my father! They can’t—he can’t—"

The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent pleas.

Panic ripped through her like claws.

"Warden," someone called, handing me a file.

I accepted it, glancing down the corridor. Sophia’s sobs scraped against the walls like dull knives.

I adjusted my gloves. Pulled my cap lower and let the shadows swallow me whole.

Rowland lingered at my side when I came out. He had sent the person to give me the file just to draw me out.

"Role-playing a cop suits you so well" he whispered, bumping my shoulder.

I didn’t even think before grabbing his ear and twisting it. He yelped loudly, my wolf huffed a laugh.

"Ow! Aria! Not the ear...people might see!"

"They won’t," I murmured, dropping my hand. "But I could call them in."

He straightened so fast, it was almost cute.

"Let’s head to the interrogation room," I said, my voice slipping back into the warden’s cool authority. I couldn’t afford to let the act crack.

We walked. My boots clicked, his stride was long and lazy, slowing just enough to let me pass first.

Nathan’s POV

The screen flickered, grainy footage from the police station, but I saw everything with clarity. Aria was in a warden’s uniform, moving like she owned the damn place. Rowland walked in behind her.

My fingers curled against the arm of my chair, my claws threatening to emerge.

Collins cleared his throat, his voice trembling. "Alpha Nathan, about Alpha Rowland..."

I didn’t respond. Realizing the shift in the air, he kept quiet, not speaking any further.

The footage zoomed in on Rowland, standing beside Aria. His hand resting on her shoulder just a moment too long. Leaning toward her. Close enough that my wolf snapped his teeth at the image. It snarled, claws digging inside me.

He’s touching what’s ours. Even if we were divorced. Even if she rejected me. I am still fighting to get her back so technically, she will still be mine.

Ever since I found out about Aria’s involvement with the Asterfell cell where Sophia was currently locked up, I had acted as a silent guardian.

I told Collins to do everything according to Aria’s wishes.

Rowland may be powerful but here in Asterfell, his influence is... limited. Confidentiality laws restrict his reach. Without someone like me pulling the strings, Aria wouldn’t be able to sway the police hierarchy so easily.

I wanted to let her lead.

To let her blaze a trail of fire through Asterfell if she wanted to and I’d burn down anything that tried to touch her flames.

I know she wishes to have her pound of flesh and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make that wish come true.