Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 126

126 A Trap Signed in Union Blood

James’s POVO

Arya and I had fought beside him in the past. We had helped him deal with dangerous rogues and secure parts of the region. We had stood in battle together. He had seen us as a pair. He had seen.

Arya loyal, fierce, capable. He had likely respected what we were.

Then I betrayed her.

Alphas hated traitors.

Especially traitors who wrapped betrayal in politics and called it necessity.

So yes, Maxwell disliked me.

He should.

The problem was that disliking me did not make the threat to Nightwind disappear, and I was out of

time to protect my pride.

I needed him anyway.

I needed Dragonclaw’s shadow over my borders.

I needed a Union Alpha’s weight on the board.

I needed someone Marcel could not easily bully and Boris could not easily bait.

And if Maxwell would not help for my sake, then maybe he would help because the same rot that

poisoned my pack could spread wider.

Maybe he would help because Arya bled in the middle of it.

Maybe he would help because he could smell the sham too.

I picked up my phone again and scrolled to his number.

Then I stopped, thumb hovering.

Not yet.

B

If I called now, furious and half-planning surrender, I would speak badly. I would sound desperate before I sounded strategic. Maxwell would hear panic and hang up.

I needed to know what I was asking.

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<126 A Trap Signed in Union Blood

Temporary protection?

Formal subordination?

A public alignment?

A private understanding until the trap broke?

I swore under my breath and dropped into the chair again.

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No matter how I shaped it, the core truth stayed the same: I needed Maxwell to see me.

To hear me.

To give me a meeting.

And if he refused once, I would call again.

If he refused twice, I would call again.

I was done pretending I had better options while Marcel’s hands kept reaching for my walls.

A knock came at the door.

“Enter.”

Nixon stepped in, eyes moving to my face, reading more than I wanted him to. “Another scout report?”

“Later.” I waved him in. “Close the door.”

He did and waited.

I leaned back, forcing my voice level. “How secure are our current lines?”

He frowned slightly at the shift in topic but answered at once. “Internal? Fair. Outer? Improving. Why?”

“Because there will be more attacks.”

His expression changed. “How do you know?”

I held his gaze for a second, then said, “Anonymous call.”

Nixon’s jaw hardened. “You trust it?”

“I trust that it matches what I can already smell.” I rubbed a thumb along the edge of my phone. “And

the caller warned me about Marcel.”

That got his full attention.

<126 A Trap Signed in Union Blood

“He named Boris?” Nixon asked.

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“He named enough.” I stood and moved to the map wall again. “Boris being fortified and suspiciously confident isn’t random. Neither are the rumours. Someone wants me to strike first.”

Nixon followed my line of sight to the north routes. “And if you do, they call you unstable.”

“Yes.”

He cursed softly.

I looked at him. “If I don’t move, I look weak. If I do move, they get a reason to bury us.”

Nixon held my gaze for a long moment, then said quietly, “You’re thinking Dragonclaw.”

I gave him a humourless smile. “Am I that obvious?”

“When you start looking like you want to punch the map and kneel at the same time? Yes.”

A rough laugh almost escaped me. Almost.

“I’m thinking protection,” I said. “Real protection. Union-adjacent at minimum. Marcel is poison. Leah

in this house is a noose. I can’t leave Nightwind exposed while I untangle either.”

Nixon’s face went grim. “Maxwell won’t make it easy.”

“No.”

“May not make it possible.”

“I know.”

He watched me for another beat. “You still going to try.”

. It wasn’t a question.

I looked down at the phone in my hand, then back up at him. “I have to.”

Nixon nodded slowly. “Then go in with a clean ask. Not apology first. Not anger first. State the threat.

State the trap. State what Nightwind offers in return.”

I studied him, then gave one short nod. “That’s why I keep you.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Because I enjoy preventing disasters.”

He turned to leave, then paused with his hand on the door. “James.”

I looked up.

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“If Maxwell hates you, let him.” Nixon’s mouth tightened. “He can hate you and still help the pack if the

threat is real enough.”

When he left, I stayed where I was, letting the words settle.

He was right.

This was not about me being liked.

Not about my guilt being soothed.

Not about making Maxwell think I had suddenly become a better man.

It was about keeping Nightwind alive.

I walked to the window and stood there, looking out over the yard while dusk started pulling the light

thinner.

Men moved between buildings with purpose.

Guards rotated posts.

A truck rolled through the inner lane, headlights blinking as it turned.

Voices rose and fell.

Life continued.

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