Howl for Justice

A Glimpse of Darkness Part 2

"So, what are you working on?" Derek asks, his tone easy but his gaze too focused.

"Just reviewing some case notes," I reply, letting my answer be as vague as his question is direct. "It never really ends, does it?"

He laughs, a smooth sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I suppose not, especially for someone as successful as you."

I study him, noting the subtle shift in his scent, an undercurrent of something sour and familiar. Jealousy. I let the realization settle like a weight in my chest, trying not to show how much it stings.

"You seem to be managing just fine," I say, turning the conversation back on him. "How’s the consulting world treating you?"

He shrugs, a practiced nonchalance. "Busy as ever. I could use some of your work ethic."

The flattery rolls off me, leaving only the barest hint of resentment behind. I dig into my food, chewing slowly, letting the silence press in on us until he breaks it.

"I’ve been meaning to ask," Derek says, his voice too casual. "How’s the firm doing financially?"

The question hangs between us, loaded and sharp. I feel the wolf in me stir, sensing the hidden traps in his words. I force a smile, pretending not to notice.

"We’re doing well," I say, matching his casual tone. "The last few months have been particularly good."

He nods, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, something assessing. "I’m sure you’ve picked up some new clients after that win."

I lean back in my chair, watching him as he angles his phone away from me, his fingers tapping out a quick message. The moment feels stretched, taut with unspoken suspicions.

"One or two," I admit, letting him think he’s pulling information from me. "I’m in talks with a particularly high-profile one right now."

Derek’s jaw tightens, the reaction instant and telling. He forces a congratulatory smile, but his knuckles are white around his phone, his grip a betrayal.

"That’s fantastic," he says, but his words sound hollow, empty.

"Isn’t it?" I reply, leaning in, testing him, seeing how much more I can uncover. "What about you? Any new ventures on the horizon?"

He laughs again, this time with a slight edge. "Nothing as exciting as yours, I’m afraid. But you never know when an opportunity might present itself."

The way he says it makes my skin prickle, a dark promise hiding beneath his polished exterior. He checks his phone once more, and I catch the brief flash of irritation that he doesn’t quite manage to hide.

"I’m glad you came by," I say, my voice softer now, threading it with the warmth I don’t feel. "It’s nice to have a break."

Derek leans back, mirroring my posture, his expression slipping into something unreadable. "I worry about you working too hard," he replies, his tone smoothing over the tension.

I watch him, catching the fleeting glimpses of truth beneath his performance. He thinks he’s still got me fooled, that I’m the same woman he could charm with easy lies and a charming smile. But I’m not the same, and neither is he.

"Maybe I should worry about you," I say, tilting my head, studying his reaction. "You seem... distracted."

He laughs again, but there’s a hollow ring to it. "I guess we both have a lot on our minds."

I push the empty cartons aside, the meal finished but the questions still lingering. "I’ll try to make it home earlier," I promise, though the words are as false as his assurances.

Derek stands, brushing imaginary crumbs from his suit, composing himself. "I’ll hold you to that."

He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at me with that same careful expression. "Don’t work too late," he warns, the edge of concern a final act.

I nod, watching him go, the echo of his footsteps receding down the hallway. The silence rushes back in, heavy and oppressive, but I don’t mind it. Not now.

I let out a long breath, my instincts on high alert. Derek’s been planning something, of that I’m sure. But what? And for how long?

The wolf in me doesn’t like not knowing, doesn’t like the secrets and lies that feel like a noose tightening around my throat. I gather the case files, my hands steady, my resolve hardening with each second that passes.

He thinks I’m in the dark, that I’m still blind to the ambitions that drive him. But he doesn’t know how closely I’m watching, waiting for him to slip.

I turn back to the files, my focus returning, sharp and determined. The night stretches out before me, long and uncertain, but I know one thing for sure.

Derek’s playing a dangerous game, and he doesn’t realize who he’s up against.

From across the room, I watch Derek charm his way through the crowd, a social butterfly in a sea of dull moths. I hold a champagne flute in my hand, the bubbles rising like my jealousy as he works the room with ease, drawing my colleagues in with his practiced sincerity. The scent of expensive perfumes mixes with his cologne, a heady reminder of how he always manages to steal the spotlight. Even now, I can’t tell if it’s me or my success he wants more.

His laughter cuts through the chatter, a magnetic pull that draws more than just attention. I see the way the young female attorneys flock to him, their smiles wide and eager, but it’s the sight of my new assistant, Olivia, that makes my grip tighten on the glass.

She leans in, a conspiratorial tilt to her head, and Derek mirrors the gesture, his expression warm and engaging. I take a sip of champagne, letting the tart bubbles burst on my tongue as I consider my next move.

I weave through the crowd, catching snatches of conversation and the flash of jewels under the too-bright lights. My dress clings to me like a second skin, emerald green that stands out among the blacks and blues of the evening wear. I feel eyes on me, some admiring, others envious, but I keep my focus on Derek.

As I approach, their laughter fades into silence. Olivia straightens, a picture of professionalism, but I catch the quick exchange of glances between her and Derek. There’s a charge in the air, a tense hum that buzzes in my ears.

"Mara," Derek greets me, his smile widening, but there’s something forced about it, like an actor staying in character. He places a hand on the small of my back, his touch too possessive, too staged.

"Hello," I say, my voice smooth and unreadable. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," Olivia chimes in, her voice bright. "Derek was just telling me about his latest venture."

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "You have so many of those, I lose track."

Derek’s smile tightens imperceptibly. "I’m sure it’s not as exciting as your work, Mara."

"True," I say, letting the word hang between us. Olivia shifts, uncomfortable, and I take a perverse satisfaction in her unease.

"Congratulations on the recent win," she offers, trying to regain her footing. "It’s all anyone is talking about."

The tension lingers, heavy as the scent of perfume, as she excuses herself to circulate. I watch her go, my instincts prickling with the knowledge that I’ll need to keep a closer eye on her.

"It’s nice to see you and Olivia getting along," I say, turning back to Derek. I study his face, the way his expression slips when he thinks I’m not watching.

He shrugs, reaching for his drink. "She seems bright. I can see why you hired her."

There’s an undertone to his voice, a subtle challenge that doesn’t go unnoticed. I sip my champagne, masking my irritation behind a cool facade. Around us, the gala continues, a whirl of music and conversation that feels distant and hollow.

A senior partner from a rival firm stops to greet us, his words effusive as he praises my latest success. Derek stands beside me, the picture of supportive pride, but I see the crack in his demeanor, the momentary lapse when his smile falters and jealousy slips through.

"Congratulations, Mara," the partner says, shaking my hand. "You’ve set a new standard for all of us."

Derek laughs, but the sound is brittle. "She certainly has."

I catch the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker with something dark and unguarded. He lifts his champagne flute, drinking deeply, and I watch his knuckles whiten around the stem.

The partner moves on, leaving us in a charged silence. I turn to Derek, my voice light but pointed. "It’s nice to be appreciated, isn’t it?"

"Very nice," he agrees, but his tone betrays him, revealing the edge beneath the smooth exterior.

I let the silence stretch, watching him refill his glass, the liquid sparkling under the bright lights. His cologne is strong, almost overpowering, mixing with the perfume and sweat of the crowd, creating a miasma that makes my head spin.

"You’re drinking a lot tonight," I note, tilting my head in feigned concern.

Derek shrugs, a dismissive gesture that belies the tension in his frame. "Just enjoying the moment."

I smile, sharp and knowing. "We should do that more often."

His eyes meet mine, a flash of challenge, and I feel the wolf in me bristle, ready to fight. But I hold back, watching, waiting, knowing that his true intentions will reveal themselves in time.

Derek reaches for another drink, his movements less controlled, his careful facade cracking under the pressure. I stay close, a shadow he can’t escape, and I see the way his expression shifts from confidence to uncertainty, a mask that’s slipping.

He looks around the room, searching for something—maybe Olivia, maybe the reassurance of others’ admiration—but he finds only my unwavering gaze.

"You’ve done well for yourself, Mara," he says finally, his voice low and edged with something sharp.

"We both have," I reply, the words a subtle challenge. "But I think we both know what we really want."

Derek hesitates, his eyes narrowing as he assesses my meaning. I see the calculation in his features, the way he measures each response with the precision of a man who never plays a losing hand.

"Maybe we do," he says, his voice smooth but his composure shaken.

I hold his gaze, letting him see the resolve there, the determination to uncover whatever secrets he’s hiding. I want him to know that I’m onto him, that I won’t let this end without a fight.

The gala swirls around us, vibrant and detached, but all I see is Derek, and all I hear is the silent battle between us.

When he finally looks away, I feel a grim satisfaction. He may think he’s still in control, but I know better. The night stretches on, full of possibilities and deceit, and I’m ready for whatever comes next.

As we leave, his hand brushes mine, a fleeting contact that feels more like a transaction than a gesture of love. I don’t pull away, not yet.

He may not know it, but he’s already losing.