006 | Five O’Clock

The alarm never got the chance to ring.

Aria was already awake at 4:43.

She sat on the edge of the bed in the dark.
The silver knife rested across her thigh.
She listened to the quiet of the house.

Somewhere far below, faint footsteps moved through the halls.
The kind of footsteps that belonged to people who never really slept.

She dressed in the plain black training clothes left on the chair the night before.
Long-sleeved.
Flexible.
Expensive even in their simplicity.

At 4:58 she left her room.

Silas was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

He looked her over once.
Those same cold gray eyes.
Then he turned without a word.

She followed him through a side corridor, down a set of stone steps, and into a wide underground space.
It smelled of sweat, metal, and clean concrete.
Mats covered most of the floor.
A wall of weapons lined one side.
The lighting was bright and unforgiving.

Silas stopped in the center of the mats.

“Shoes off.”

Aria removed them.

“The rules are simple,” he said.
“You try to hit me.
I stop you.
We continue until I decide you’ve had enough…
or until you stop getting up.”

He didn’t ask if she understood.

He just moved.

Fast.

Aria barely got her arms up before his palm struck her shoulder.
She stumbled sideways.
Caught herself.
Spun.
Swung.

Silas leaned out of the way like she was moving through water.

“Again.”

She came forward harder this time.
Fist.
Elbow.
A low kick aimed at his knee.

None of it landed.

Silas stepped inside her guard and shoved her.
She hit the mat on her back.
The air left her lungs in a short, ugly sound.

He didn’t offer a hand.

“Get up.”

Aria rolled to her feet.
Her shoulder throbbed.
Her pride throbbed worse.

She attacked again.

And again.

Each time Silas redirected her, tripped her, or simply moved out of reach.
He never punched her full force.
He didn’t need to.
Every correction was precise and humiliating.

After the seventh time she hit the ground, Aria stayed on one knee longer than before.
Breathing hard.

Silas stood over her.

“You’re angry,” he said.
“Good.
Anger keeps you moving.
But right now your anger is messy.
Messy gets people killed.”

Aria wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and stood.

“Then teach me how to make it clean.”

Something almost like approval flickered through his eyes.
Gone as quickly as it came.

“Keep up.”

The next round was worse.

He started adding pressure — light strikes to her ribs, her thighs, the side of her neck.
Nothing that would break her.
Just enough to make every breath remind her she was still too slow.
Too soft.
Too late.

Sweat ran down her spine.
Her arms felt heavy.

The old Aria would have already started making excuses in her head.

This Aria only clenched her teeth and kept coming.

Somewhere around the twentieth exchange, something shifted.

A heat flickered low in her chest.
Not the burning pain of the broken mate bond from her first life.
Something older.
Heavier.
Like a second heartbeat trying to wake up.

Her next swing came faster than the ones before it.

Silas actually had to take a half step back.

He noticed.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Again.”

Aria didn’t give him time to reset.
She pressed forward, letting the strange heat spread into her arms and legs.
Her footwork was still clumsy.
Her timing was still off.
But there was weight behind the movements now that hadn’t been there ten minutes earlier.

Silas blocked a strike, caught her wrist, and twisted.

Aria dropped to one knee with a sharp breath.
But she didn’t cry out.

He held the pressure for a second longer than necessary, then released her.

“You’re hiding something,” he said quietly.

Aria looked up at him from the mat.
Chest rising and falling hard.

“I’m just trying not to die in this room.”

Silas stared at her for a long moment.

Then he stepped back.

“Enough for this morning.”

Aria stayed on one knee.
Sweat dripped from her jaw onto the mat.
The heat in her chest was already fading, leaving a strange hollow ache behind.

Silas tossed a water bottle toward her.
She caught it one-handed.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said.
“And the day after that.
And the day after that.
Until you stop looking like a girl who got lucky
and start looking like someone who belongs in this house.”

He turned and walked toward the exit.

Aria pushed herself to her feet.

Her body hurt in places she had forgotten could hurt.
But underneath the pain was something sharper.

The bloodline was waking up.

Slowly.
Quietly.
But it was there.

She drank the water and wiped her face with the bottom of her shirt.

As she followed Silas out of the training room, a voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.

Dominic Vale stood on the landing.
Already dressed in a dark suit.
Watching them both with unreadable eyes.

“Report,” he said to Silas.

Silas stopped beside Aria.

“She’s soft.
Untrained.
But she doesn’t stay down.”
A pause.
“And there’s something off about her.
She moves like someone who’s already lost once
and decided not to do it again.”

Dominic’s gaze settled on Aria.

She met it without looking away.

For a moment no one spoke.

Then Dominic said, almost mildly,

“Interesting.”

He came down the stairs slowly.

When he reached them, he stopped in front of Aria.
Close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne
and the colder steel underneath it.

“You’re starting late,” he said.
“Most people in this family begin learning how to survive when they’re children.
You’re eighteen
and still swinging like you’re afraid of hurting someone.”

Aria’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll catch up.”

“You will,” Dominic agreed.
“Because the alternative is unacceptable.”

He glanced at Silas.

“Increase the pressure tomorrow.
I want to know what she looks like when she stops holding back.”

Silas gave a short nod.

Dominic looked at Aria one last time.

“There’s a car leaving for the city at noon.
You’re going with Silas.
Consider it part of your education.”

Aria frowned slightly.

“Where?”

Dominic’s eyes were flat.

“To look at something that used to belong to you.”

Then he walked past them and disappeared down the hallway.

Aria stood frozen for half a second.

Something that used to belong to her.

Her mind jumped immediately to the orphanage.
To the old riverbank.
To the white dress that had been left bloodied under the moon.

Silas’s voice cut through the thought.

“Be ready by 11:45.
Don’t make me come looking for you.”

He left her standing there at the bottom of the stairs.

Aria exhaled slowly.

Her body still ached from the morning’s beating.

But her mind was already moving ahead of the pain.

Something that used to belong to me.

She turned and climbed the stairs toward her room.
The silver knife still tucked against her ankle from the night before.

Whatever Dominic planned to show her at noon…

she had the feeling it was going to hurt.

And she was going to look at it without blinking.