He sat at a small, round table near the window of a nondescript coffee shop on a small corner of Manhattan's Upper West Side. Nondescript, the place where nobody checked out anybody else—a perfect setting for private conversations. He glanced at the time on his watch as he waited for Ellen Price.

She'd rung earlier that morning asking if they could meet face-to-face, outside of the courtroom; Uriel had agreed straight away. Of course, he knew bloody well that Ellen would never get in touch unless she had something up her sleeve.

It wasn't until well into the afternoon that Ellen actually entered the shop, cutting through the sea of small tables silently before seating herself across from Uriel. She was razor-sharp as ever: tailored suit, piercing eyes, imposing as any courtroom. She ordered a black coffee from the waiter and then fixed her gaze on Uriel.

"Thanks for meeting me," Ellen began, casual in tone but only in tone.

"I figured it had to be something important if you wanted to talk outside the courtroom," Uriel replied, leaning back in his chair. He sounded calm, yet wariness crept into the edge. He knew Ellen didn't play nice unless there was something in it for her.

The coffee mug paused midway to Ellen's lips as her eyes caught his and held the moment—the air—out longer than necessary before placing the mug down. "Let's cut to the chase, Zander," she said, crossing her legs. "This case with Daniel Reiss… it's messy. There's no need for you to drag this thing through the mud when we both know where it's going. The evidence is tight, and if you keep pushing, he's going to end up with a long sentence."

Uriel merely raised an eyebrow but said nothing, gesturing for her to continue.

"I'm offering you a couple of options, Counselor," Ellen said, her voice smooth with a knife edge of manipulation. "First—offering a plea deal, manslaughter. He pleads guilty, we push for five with parole in three; that is his best option."

Uriel nodded slightly. It was not an unforeseen move in this sort of case, but wasn't what it was that had brought him here. There was something else.

"And the alternative?" Uriel asked, his eyes narrowing.

She moved closer to him, her voice quieter, more personal and low. "You just leave the case strictly alone. I know you have other cases to attend to, and I know you can use the extra time. I've got friends in this city—people who could see to it that you get $10,000 without strings. You just turn the case over to him and let it play out."

Uriel's face didn't give away anything, though his heart rate did quicken a notch. A bribe. He had expected a plea deal, not this one. Ellen wanted him out of the way and was desperate enough to revert to such means.

Uriel folded his hands across the table, his tone level. "I'm flattered you make this offer, but I am not the kind of attorney that takes a pay-off to leave a client hanging in the lurch. And as for the plea deal…" He stopped then and waited for the slight shift in Ellen's expression. "I don't think you've noticed, but I am not exactly the type of attorney that backpedals from a fight."

Ellen's eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise, her exterior remained unruffled. "It is no retreat, Zander, just realism. You have already won some pretty big cases, and your career is going right through the roof. Do you really want to risk it all on this one?"

Uriel smirked, his body inclined forward. "You know what, Ellen? I like this—head to head with you. I like beating you in court. So no, I am not going to back off. And I am not taking your deal. We will see each other at trial, and we will see who comes out on top."

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Ellen's eyes flashed annoyance, but she uttered one word more as she rose to her feet. She squared her jacket, gave him a final, lingering glance, and left the café, her heels clacking against the floor.

He watched her go, tension rolling off him like water. He wasn't ruffled—that the offer which had come under the table had just made it imperative the battle ahead would get personal. He finished his coffee.

Back at the office, Uriel was flipping through paperwork half-listening to the news playing in the background on a TV mounted in the corner of the break room. One day, his attention fluttered as he did catch the familiar face popping up on screen—*Aaron Sinclair*.

The newscaster's voice was clear. *Aaron Sinclair*, a most feared federal prosecutor, has just won another high-profile case in California—a huge scheme involving the ringleader of a major distributor in a multi-state drug-trafficking ring. That is his tenth consecutive conviction, another feather in Sinclair's cap for being one of the most feared prosecutors in the country.

Uriel didn't turn his eyes away from the screen, with thoughts suddenly racing to law school—to those days when Aaron had made it known he wasn't just trying to be good but striving to be the best. The competition between them had been fierce, as one or the other of them had always competed for first place in their class. Uriel wasn't surprised to see Aaron rise so quickly in the prosecutorial world. He had been a pit bull—much like Uriel himself.

Karen strode over to the break room and raised her eyebrow at the screen displaying Aaron's name. "Aaron Sinclair," she said with a shake of her head. "That guy's everywhere these days. You hear about his last case? Ruthless. The guy's one of the top five prosecutors in the country now."

Uriel nodded, the hint of a smile pulling his lips sideways. "I knew him back in law school. We were always going head-to-head. He was tough then, and it looks like he hasn't changed."

Karen crossed her arms, watching the news report. "He's won his last ten cases, all high-profile. Nobody has been able to touch him. I heard his closing arguments in that drug case were brutal. They say he has never been more aggressive."

Uriel shrugged. "It's what I expected from him. Always targeting to be the best."

Karen glanced at Uriel. "You ever think about what it would be like to go up against him in court?"

Uriel smiled faintly. "I've thought about it. We'll see if our paths cross again someday."

Karen chuckled. "If it does, I'll make sure I'm in the courtroom to watch."

Later that afternoon, Uriel was called into Reardon's office. His boss leaned back in his chair, regarding Uriel with an expression of mixed approval and expectation.

"Zander, you've been making waves," Reardon said. "Not just with the Salazar case, but with your work in the Daniel Reiss case too. People are noticing you, and not just here."

Uriel queried a brow, having absolutely no idea where this was going.

"I'm assigning you to assist other public defenders in the office," Reardon said. "You've earned quite the reputation for taking on the impossible cases, and your arguments are tight as a drum. I want you working with some of the younger attorneys to get them through some of their tougher ones."

Uriel nodded, the weight of the responsibility settling upon him. "I'll be happy to help where I can."

"Good," Reardon said. "But don't let it distract you from your own cases. I know you're busy with Reiss, and I trust you to handle that one with your usual finesse."

Uriel left the office, both proud and pressured. He was on his way up in the Public Defender's Office, but that also meant more eyes would be focusing on him. They'd anticipate that he let him off, and in this business, anticipation worked both ways.

That evening, Uriel sat at his desk in the apartment and focused on the case against Daniel Reiss. The self-defense idea was dicey, yet it was his best option. He had to be able to piece together a tale of how Daniel was one who reacted out of fear rather than malice. The jury would have to be convinced that Daniel had not meant things to go that far.

Uriel scribbled down a couple of notes while running the evidence over in his head a thousand times. He envisaged Ellen Price back that day, offering him the deal, and how it would have sounded to anybody else. But Uriel was not of those men who took shortcuts just to get in front of the game. He would want to win the right way, even when he is pitted against people like prosecutor Ellen, and one day Aaron Sinclair, across from him.

As the night dragged on, Uriel closed the case file and leaned back in his chair, letting exhaustion creep in gradually. It was all Daniel Reiss these days; he would never back away from any case, but it was a feeling he could not help that things were really about to start ramping up from here.

He doused the light and lay down, his head swimming with the fine details of the case. There would be no room for mistakes—not now, not ever.