Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 115

115 What They Took and Called Justice

Arya’s POV

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I knew who she was before someone said her name because I had seen that kind of approach a hundred times in halls like this. Bright smile. Soft voice. Calculated grace pretending to be shy boldness. She angled herself into Lev’s line of sight with a cup in hand and enough confidence to assume she would be entertained.

She laughed at something he had not said.

Her hand brushed his sleeve.

My fingers tightened around my own glass.

I looked away immediately, annoyed with myself.

Why should I care?

Lev was not mine.

I was not his.

Whatever existed between us was a dangerous, infuriating tangle of training, bond pull, rage, and

unfinished heat.

That was all.

The girl leaned closer.

Something hot and ugly moved through me.

Jealousy

I nearly laughed at myself in disbelief.

I took a slow sip of wine and forced my expression neutral.

Across the room, Lev’s gaze lifted from the Beta’s daughter and found mine.

Held.

His face did not change.

Then, without taking the cup she was offering, without giving her the smile she was fishing for, he stepped around her and walked straight toward me.

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The girl’s smile tightened behind him.

My pulse kicked harder.

Lev stopped in front of me.

“Dance with me,” he said.

I stared at him. “Are you trying to start a fight in Maxwell’s hall?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so easily I nearly choked on a laugh.

He was impossible.

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I set down my glass before I did something foolish like throw it at him, then placed my hand in his.

The music shifted as he led me onto the dance floor, slower now, strings and low percussion threading through the room. His hand settled at my waist. Mine rested on his shoulder.

The first turn was almost formal.

Then he drew me closer.

Not enough for anyone to accuse him of impropriety.

Enough that I could feel the heat of him through the layers between us.

Enough that the bond stirred low and hungry under my skin.

“Still jealous?” he asked, voice too low for anyone else to hear.

I looked up sharply. “I was not jealous.”

His thumb moved once against my waist, a slow pressure that sent a traitorous shiver through me.

“Liar.”

I hated that my body reacted before my mouth did.

I glared at him. “You enjoy provoking me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His gaze dipped briefly to my lips, then returned to my eyes “Because anger keeps you honest.”

115 What They Took and Called Justice

The words should have made me bristle.

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Instead they landed in that same place his training always reached, the part of me he kept dragging into the light, the part that had been forced into silence for too long.

We moved across the floor in steady rhythm. His hand remained at my waist, firm, guiding, never wandering. Controlled. Always controlled.

In his arms, the noise in my head softened.

Not disappeared.

Not healed.

Just… farther away.

The memory of chains.

The humiliation.

The grief.

The constant, grinding fury.

For a few dangerous moments, they sat at the edge instead of the centre.

I hated how much I noticed that.

This was a new danger.

Not because Lev frightened me.

Because he didn’t, not in the way he should have.

Because relief felt too much like a trap.

Because a man who could quiet my mind, even for one dance, was the kind of man who could ruin me if I let him too far in.

I lifted my chin and broke eye contact first, focusing on the room instead.

That was when I heard it.

Not during the dance.

After

After the music ended and Lev released me and I stepped away before the warmth of him could sink

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115 What They Took and Called Justice

deeper into my bones.

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I moved toward the side of the hall, meaning only to breathe and put distance between my pulse and

his hand.

The whispers found me anyway.

“…rogue…”

Maxwell took pity…”

“…head of the Union Council, why would he…”

“…not a proper match…”

I kept my face still.

Every word was soft enough to pretend innocence if confronted.

That was the point.

Discredit me quietly.

Reduce me before anyone took me seriously.

Make me sound like charity in borrowed silk.

A rogue the Alpha took pity on.

I understood the effort behind it immediately. If Lev’s attention to me looked like pity or amusement,

then whatever power I held in the room shrank. If I looked beneath him, then no one had to wonder if

he chose to stand near me.

My jaw tightened.

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