Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 141

141 When James Crossed the Boundary

Arya’s POVO

Menic

The lower holding rooms were cut into old stone beneath one side of the house, not a dungeon built for spectacle but secure, cold, practical space for those awaiting judgement. Dragonclaw didn’t flaunt suffering. That almost made what I was about to do feel worse.

There were two guards at the corridor entrance. They straightened when they saw me, then stepped aside immediately.

“Alpha’s orders,” one of them said. “You have access.”

I nodded without speaking and walked in.

The air was cooler below ground. Damp stone. Metal. Old wood. Torch smoke. The sound of chains shifting carried strangely in narrow corridors, thin and echoing. Somewhere water dripped at a slow, patient pace.

Lisa and Margaret had been kept in separate rooms.

Good.

I stopped outside Margaret’s first because I knew myself well enough to understand the order

mattered.

Margaret broke easier.

Lisa hid behind trembling better.

Margaret would cry first, beg first, confess first, and I was not here for convenience.

I was here for debt.

The guard opened the door for me.

Margaret was on her knees before she

saw my face clearly, chained at the wrists to an iron ring

in the wall, hair dishevelled, eyes swollen, lower lip split from either panic or transport struggle.

Silverfang’s mark was still visible on her wrist where her sleeve had fallen back.

That symbol ignited something savage in me.

Safe and protected.

Rebecca’s promise.

141 When James Crossed the Boundary

Rebecca’s reward for my

ruin.

Menu

Margaret looked up and the sound she made was small and wet and immediate. “Luna Arya,

I moved before she finished.

My hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back so hard she cried out.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Aah, please, please,”

#

“Did you call me that in the hall?” I hissed, dragging her forward off balance. “When you pointed and lied? Did you call me Luna then?”

She clawed at my wrist, sobbing. “I was scared,

I slammed her shoulder into the stone wall.

Not hard enough to break bone.

Hard enough to teach.

Her cry tore through the room.

My breath came fast. Too fast. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my teeth.

Good.

Let it pound.

Let something in me move besides grief.

I yanked her upright by the hair again and forced her to look at me.

Up close, she looked worse than last night. Fear had a smell. Sweat and salt and animal panic. Once, I had smelled this on her at Nightwind’s gate when she came stumbling in half-starved, shaking, wild- eyed from what rogues had done to the caravan she travelled with.

Once, I had wrapped her in a blanket.

Once, I had argued with James because he didn’t want more mouths to feed.

The memory hit so hard my vision flashed.

“I remember you,” I said, voice low and shaking with rage. “Do you remember that? Nightwind gate. You couldn’t stop trembling. You looked at me like I was a miracle.”

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Margaret sobbed harder. “Please, I know,”

“I gave you a room.”

My grip tightened.

“I gave you food.”

Menu

“Arya, please,”

“I vouched for you.”

I slammed her forward again, her knees hitting stone. She screamed.

“I put my name on you in front of a pack that did not trust easily, and you sold me for a crest on your wrist.”

She was crying so hard she could barely breathe, words breaking apart into gasps. “Rebecca, Rebecca promised, she said we’d die if we didn’t,”

I crouched in front of her, forcing her head up again.

“Good,” I said softly.

Her eyes widened at the softness.

“Then you know what fear feels like.”

Her breath stuttered.

I leaned closer, voice dropping until it almost brushed her skin. “Do you know what helpless feels like?

Do you know what it feels like to beg the truth out of a room and watch them call you liar anyway?”

She shook violently. “We were told,

I slapped her.

The crack bounced off stone.

Not Rebecca’s slap.

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