Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 123

123 Before the Union Trap Closed

James’s POV

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Leah’s eyes sharpened, pride and anger warring in her expression. She heard the condition. She heard

the insult buried in it too. No more pressure. No more entitlement. No more acting crowned while her

father delivered nothing.

And beneath that, there was another truth she sensed even if she couldn’t name it: she was losing

power in this room.

She lifted her chin, voice trembling with fury. “I will not be insulted like this.”

“That is also fine by me,” I said.

Her mouth fell open for a heartbeat.

I could almost see the calculation breaking apart behind her eyes. She had walked in expecting me to punish Lesly, expected blood, expected control. Instead, I had thanked the woman who freed Arya,

stripped Leah of command over my guards, and put the deal back on Marcel’s neck where it belonged.

She looked at Lesly with naked hatred, then back at me. “You will regret this.”

I held the office door open and said, “Then leave.

For a second I thought she might throw something. Might scream. Might try tears. Leah liked weapons

that created witnesses.

Instead she spun on her heel and stormed out, all stiff elegance and wounded pride.

The guards followed after a sharp glance from me.

Lesly remained frozen in place.

I turned to her and the anger drained a degree.

“Go,” I said quietly. “And stay out of sight for a while.”

She swallowed. “Alpha…”

I shook my head once. I didn’t deserve gratitude from her either.

“Go.”

She nodded and left quickly, still looking dazed.

When the door closed, I stood alone in the office and let my head tip back for one second.

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Jasper was pacing hard now, agitated by the lie I’d just spoken.

You told her you would mate Leah.

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I walked back to the desk and braced my hands on it. “I told her what would stop the pressure.”

It’s a dangerous promise.

“It is a condition. Not a surrender.”

Jasper snarled, restless and furious. Do not put our throat under their knife.

I closed my eyes briefly.

“I don’t plan on ever mating Leah.”

The words were barely above a whisper, but they were true to the bone.

The moment I fully mated her, Marcel would have a permanent route into this pack through blood and

bond and daughter. If Leah became Luna under his hand while I remained tangled in his false Union

promises, Marcel would find a way to eliminate me eventually and own the pack through her.

He would dress it in grief. In inheritance. In Union procedure.

But the end would be the same.

I wasn’t stupid.

Not anymore.

So yes, I had given Leah a line to carry back to him, but the condition I set would slow them. It would

force delivery first. Proof first. It would buy me room and stop them from pressing me to mate her immediately while I dug.

Jasper’s growl eased, though not by much.

Do not misstep again.

I looked at the phone on the desk.

“No,” I said. “I won’t.”

The office was quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that comes after a storm passes through but leaves the furniture shaking.

Then I picked up the phone and scrolled to Maxwell’s number.

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My thumb hovered for a second.

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Maxwell had every reason not to answer me. Every reason to let the call ring out and toss the phone. aside. After what I had done to Arya, after the way I had failed her, after the blood and humiliation and

blindness,

If he cursed me and disconnected, I would deserve it.

I called anyway.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

On the fourth, it clicked.

Maxwell’s voice came through rough and guarded. “What.”

No greeting.

No courtesy.

I deserved none.

“Maxwell,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “I need,”

“You need a lot of things,” he cut in. “Most of them too late.”

I shut my eyes once, took the hit, and kept going. “I know.”

Silence.

I pushed through before he ended the call.

“I’m telling you what happened when I returned from the party,” I said. “And what I’ve learned since. Then you can decide whether to hang up.”

He didn’t answer.

That was permission enough.

So I told him.

Not the polished version.

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Not the Alpha version.

Not the one that protected my pride.

I told him what I saw when I returned.

How the pack looked.

How Arya had been gone.

What the prisoners said.

How the attack timing made no sense.

How Marcel and Leah had called repeatedly trying to pull my attention back.

How Donald named Boris, but the whole thing still felt wrong.

How I was searching for Arya.

How I knew now I had failed her.

I did not dress any of it up.

By the end of it, my throat felt raw.

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The line stayed quiet long enough that I thought Maxwell had set the phone down and walked away.

Then he said, voice hard as stone, “After what you’ve done, you should let Arya rest.”

The words landed exactly where they should.

I looked down at the desk, jaw flexing. “I don’t want to.”

“Your wants stopped mattering the day you chose politics over her blood.”

I took that too because it was true.

“There are other pressing matters,” I said after a beat. “And I know how that sounds coming from me, but listen to me anyway.” I gripped the phone tighter. “I need help finding out which Union members attacked my pack.”

Maxwell laughed once, low and without humour. “Ask your father-in-law.”

The title scraped.

I answered immediately. “I no longer trust Marcel.”

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That got a pause.

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I continued before he could dismiss me. “I think he may have a hand in this. Directly or through

someone else. I can’t prove it yet, but too much is wrong. The officers. The timing. The pressure. The way he keeps stalling. The way he knew I was digging.”

Silence again.

Then Maxwell spoke, slower this time. “So you finally grew a brain.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose.

“Late,” he added, voice turning colder. “You woke up a bit late, James. After you lost everything.”

Everything.

Arya.

The baby.

Trust.

Authority in my own house.

The clean shape of truth.

My chest tightened.

“I know,” I said quietly. “But I’m awake now.”

The line crackled faintly..

When Maxwell spoke again, the fury was still there, but something else sat under it too, assessment. Calculation. The older Alpha weighing whether I was useful, dangerous, or simply pathetic.

“I am not doing this for you,” he said.

I swallowed. “I understand.”

“If I do anything, it is because this smells wrong. And because Arya bled inside your mess.

Shame burned hot and immediate. “I know.”

He gave a low grunt, irritation sharp in it. “Stop saying you know. Knowing after the damage is easy.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Fair.”

Another silence.

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Then, finally: “I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t agreement.

It wasn’t refusal.

From Maxwell, it was more than I had earned.

“Thank you,” I said.

He made a disgusted sound at the gratitude.

Then the call ended.

I stood there with the dead line in my ear for a second before lowering the phone.

The office suddenly felt smaller.

Not because of fear.

Because the walls of the lie were starting to show.

Marcel was stalling.

Leah was overreaching.

Silverfang was tightening.