The announcement went up at 9:00 a.m. sharp.
Aria saw it before anyone else—not because she was eager, but because she was already braced for disappointment.
Mock Trial teams.
The hallway outside the lecture hall filled instantly—voices overlapping, bodies pressing closer to the screen, ambition buzzing like static in the air. This wasn't just an extracurricular.
Mock Trial decided futures.
Internships. Clerkships. Faculty recommendations that actually meant something.
Reputations were built here.
Or broken.
Aria stepped closer, scanning the list with practiced efficiency.
Team Alpha.
Lead Counsel: Aria Whitmore
Co-Counsel: Lucas Vale
Her breath stalled.
Just for a second.
Enough to be dangerous.
Behind her, someone let out a low whistle. "You've got to be kidding me."
She didn't turn.
Opposition Team—Team Omega.
Lead Counsel: Serena Blake
Aria's jaw tightened.
Of course.
Serena Blake didn't lose.
She didn't shout. Didn't posture. Didn't rush.
She waited.
And then she dismantled you with precision that felt personal.
Serena had transferred last semester, already carrying a reputation that preceded her—top rankings, brutal cross-examinations, a smile that never reached her eyes.
A strategist.
A predator.
"Looks like the universe has a sense of humor," Mila murmured beside her.
Aria finally exhaled.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was escalation.
The crowd began to thin as students found their names, celebrated, or quietly recalibrated their ambitions. Aria remained where she was, eyes fixed on the list as if it might rearrange itself under scrutiny.
It didn't.
Team Alpha. Team Omega.
A clean division. A deliberate one.
She felt it then—the shift. The moment when this stopped being academic and became personal. Mock Trial wasn't designed to be kind. It was designed to expose pressure points, to see what fractured first when logic was forced to perform under observation.
Mila nudged her gently. "You okay?"
Aria nodded once. "It's workable."
Mila gave her a look. "That's not what I asked."
Aria ignored that.
Behind them, voices rose and fell.
"Vale's on Alpha? That's unfair."
"Serena's leading Omega? Someone's getting buried."
"Kingsley loves chaos."
Aria caught only fragments, filing them away without effort. Information was reflex. She absorbed it the way other people breathed.
Lucas Vale.
Her co-counsel.
Again.
She told herself it was efficient. Their skill sets aligned. Their arguments complemented each other. They didn't waste time.
They also didn't leave room for error.
That was the problem.
She turned, finally stepping away from the board.
That was when she saw Serena.
Serena Blake stood near the back of the hallway, arms loosely folded, posture relaxed. She wasn't looking at the list anymore. She was looking at Aria.
Directly.
Unblinking.
The smile that curved her lips was faint, controlled, and unmistakably pleased.
Not excitement.
Anticipation.
Aria met her gaze without hesitation. She didn't smile back. She didn't look away.
Predators recognized each other.
Serena inclined her head slightly—acknowledgment, not respect—then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Mila exhaled. "She's enjoying this."
Aria's voice was calm. "So am I."
That wasn't entirely true.
Enjoyment implied comfort.
This was something else.
The first draft meeting was scheduled for noon.
Aria arrived early, as always, laying out her notes with methodical precision. Case summaries, potential objections, framework outlines—everything labeled, color-coded, ready.
Lucas entered five minutes later.
He stopped when he saw her.
Not because she surprised him.
Because she didn't look up.
"Aria," he said.
She nodded, still organizing papers. "We have forty-eight hours to prepare opening strategies."
He stepped closer. "We need to talk."
She met his gaze then. "About the case?"
"About us being assigned together again."
Her expression remained neutral. "That's already decided."
"I know," he said. "But Serena's not just another opponent."
"No," Aria agreed. "She's smarter than most."
"And she's observant."
Aria's pen paused.
"I can handle Serena," she said.
Lucas studied her face, searching for something she refused to offer. "I'm not worried about your ability."
"Then what are you worried about?"
He hesitated—just long enough to answer honestly.
"Interference."
Aria straightened, shoulders squared. "This trial is not personal."
Lucas held her gaze. "Serena will make it personal."
Before Aria could respond, the door opened.
Professor Kingsley entered, followed by Serena herself.
Perfect timing.
"Good," Kingsley said briskly. "You're all here."
Serena's eyes flicked to Aria, then to Lucas, her smile sharpening.
"Well," she said lightly, "this is going to be fun."
Kingsley ignored the comment. "Mock Trial isn't about comfort. It's about exposure."
His gaze lingered briefly on Aria.
"Your opponents will exploit weakness. If you have one, they'll find it."
Serena's smile deepened.
Aria felt the weight of that sentence settle—not as fear, but as challenge.
She welcomed it.
Because if Serena thought she could dismantle her—
She was welcome to try.
Lucas found her ten minutes later in the prep room.
"You saw it," he said, not a question.
Aria nodded. "Team Alpha."
"Again," he added.
She met his gaze. "Focus."
Something unreadable passed through his expression—regret, maybe. Or relief.
Or both.
"We need to establish boundaries," Lucas said. "If we're doing this, we do it clean."
She crossed her arms. "You think I'd let anything else interfere?"
He hesitated. "I think you're capable of compartmentalizing."
That stung more than accusation.
"And you?" she asked. "Are you?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately.
Before he could, the door opened.
Professor Kingsley entered, tablet in hand, expression already carved into neutrality.
"Congratulations," he said. "You've all been selected for the highest-stakes exercise this program offers."
His gaze flicked briefly between Aria and Lucas.
"Team dynamics matter," he continued. "This trial will not reward individual brilliance. It will reward cohesion."
Serena stepped in behind him.
Perfect timing.
She wore confidence like a second skin, eyes sharp as they landed on Aria.
"Well," Serena said pleasantly, "this just got interesting."
The draft meeting was brutal.
Evidence packets slid across the table. Case theories formed and fractured in real time. Kingsley observed silently, letting tension do the teaching.
Aria took the lead instinctively—structuring arguments, identifying pressure points.
Lucas matched her step for step, refining, compressing, sharpening.
It was seamless.
Terrifyingly so.
Serena watched them closely from across the table, lips curved in faint amusement.
"You two have history," Serena remarked casually.
"Professional," Aria replied.
Lucas didn't correct her.
Serena's smile widened. "That's always the most dangerous kind."
Kingsley's voice cut in. "Serena, you'll be leading cross-examination."
"Of course," Serena said smoothly. "I enjoy peeling back narratives."
Her gaze locked onto Aria.
"Especially well-constructed ones."
Aria felt the familiar spark ignite in her chest—not fear, not jealousy.
Challenge.
They broke for strategy planning.
Lucas leaned closer, voice low. "She's studying you."
"I know."
"She's not aiming for the case," he added. "She's aiming for disruption."
Aria's mouth curved slightly. "Then she's miscalculated."
Lucas studied her. "Has she?"
Before Aria could answer, Serena appeared beside them, uninvited.
"Aria," she said lightly, "walk with me?"
Lucas stiffened.
Aria didn't.
They stepped aside.
"I've read your prior mock records," Serena continued. "Impressive. You dominate by volume and control."
Aria met her gaze. "You're flattering me."
"No," Serena said. "I'm mapping you."
She leaned in slightly, voice lowering.
"You break when the variables stop obeying logic."
Aria's pulse kicked—but her face remained calm.
"And you," Aria replied, "confuse observation with understanding."
Serena smiled.
"We'll see."
That night, Aria stayed late, drafting arguments with relentless focus.
Lucas joined her without asking.
They worked in silence for a while.
Finally, he spoke. "She's dangerous."
Aria didn't look up. "So am I."
He watched her for a moment longer than necessary.
"That's not what she meant."
Aria's pen paused.
She looked at him then. "Then what did she mean?"
Lucas hesitated.
"That you're human."
The word landed heavier than accusation ever could.
Aria straightened, spine rigid. "Human doesn't lose cases."
"No," he said quietly. "But pretending you're not one might."
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, the campus lights flickered.
Inside, the battlefield shifted.
Serena smiles.
"I know your weakness, Aria."