Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 125

125 The Price of Waiting

James’s POV

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I dropped into the chair and leaned forward, elbows on knees, phone hanging loose in my hand while the shape of it came together piece by piece whether I wanted it to or not.

If I went after Boris directly, I could give the Union exactly what it needed.

A story.

A label.

A reason.

Aggressive rogue Alpha.

Unstable pack.

Unfit for certification.

Danger to recognised territories.

Nightwind blacklisted permanently.

も

And Marcel, if he was in this up to his throat, could stand back and cluck his tongue about how hard

he tried to help me.

But if I did nothing?

If I sat in my office and let Boris fortify and posture and let rumours spread that my land wasn’t truly

mine?

Then I looked weak.

Not just politically.

To my pack.

To the neighbouring territories.

To the same men testing my boundaries already.

Inaction would bleed me slower, but it would bleed me all the same.

I dragged a hand over my face.

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Retaliation ruins me.

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Inaction ruins me.

Jasper paced hard in my head, claws scraping.

Trap.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I know.”

The words tasted like defeat and I hated them.

I looked up at the wall and saw, for one ugly moment, not maps but ghosts.

Arya in my yard, furious and shaking, trying to make me see what I refused to see.

Arya at the banquet, crying when she should never have had to cry.

Arya standing in front of me while I chose Marcel’s pressure over her truth.

I shut my eyes.

This was bigger than Boris. Bigger than one attack. Bigger than Marcel’s smug phone calls and Leah’s entitlement and Silverfang’s locked gates.

This was Union structure.

Union protection.

Union politics..

Union blood protecting Union blood.

And Nightwind stood outside it, claws bared and throat exposed.

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, forcing myself to think past anger.

I needed help.

Not just men.

Not just scouts.

A Union Alpha.

Someone whose protection meant something on paper and in blood.

Someone who could stand beside Nightwind long enough to make the wrong people hesitate.

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The answer came before I finished thinking it.

Dragonclaw.

Maxwell.

The name sat there heavy and obvious.

I let out a bitter breath and laughed once at myself.

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At this point I did not care what my pride looked like. I did not care if it felt like submission. I did not care if my enemies whispered that James Nightwind had crawled to another Alpha’s doorstep.

If putting Nightwind under Dragonclaw temporarily gave my pack Dragonclaw protection, and by proxy Union protection pending whatever sham of a deal Marcel kept dangling, then I would consider it.

Better a living pack under guarded teeth than a proud pack left as sitting ducks.

The thought should have come sooner.

Much sooner.

I stared at the desk, jaw flexing.

Maybe that should have been the route I took from the start.

Maybe if I had gone to Maxwell properly, waited, worked through his channels, swallowed my impatience, none of this would have happened.

No Marcel leash.

No Silverfang trap.

No Leah pressure tightening around my house.

No false urgency driving me into a bargain built on my land and my desperation.

I cursed under my breath and stood, pacing once across the office.

I had been too impatient.

Too hungry to secure Nightwind fast.

Too determined to prove myself without leaning on anyone.

Too easy to manipulate because Marcel knew exactly what to promise a man trying to outrun old

weakness.

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And now, seeing Maxwell with Lev, seeing who Lev truly was, not just a powerful Alpha but the head of

the Union, Alpha of Blackbirth, the memory came back so sharply it made me stop walking.

Maxwell had told me once, back then, that he would introduce me to someone important.

Not now, he’d said.

The man isn’t around.

Wait.

Wait.

I looked at the window, seeing none of the yard beyond it.

Lev.

The person Maxwell had meant was Lev.

Of course it was.

The realization landed in my bones with the kind of quiet pain that comes when you see the road you

should have taken only after you’ve burned the bridge to it.

If I had waited for Maxwell…

If I had met Lev through the right door…

If I had taken the slower path…

I might have had a better deal.

A clean deal.

An easier deal.

No Marcel in my house.

No Leah tied to my name.

No sham process dragging a chain across Nightwind’s throat.

Then another memory hit, sharp and unwelcome.

Lev dancing with Arya at my wedding to Leah.

The look on them.

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The pull in the room I pretended not to fully see.

The thing I now understood too late and too well.

Maybe Lev would have wanted her anyway.