Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 144

144 Aftermath of the Hall

Arya’s POV

By the time we got back inside, my hands still hurt.

Not from effort.

From memory.

Get 287

Menu

From the way Margaret’s hair had twisted around my fist. From the way Lisa had cried when I looked at her and saw the night I opened Nightwind’s gates for her all over again. Hungry. Shaking. Grateful. I had given both of them shelter. Food. Place. Name. Safety.

And they had stood in that hall and watched me drown.

I could still hear it, even now, the murmurs, the accusations, Leah’s performance, the taste of blood and grief in my mouth, the way my body had folded around pain while those women helped pin a lie to my chest like a sentence.

My baby.

My throat burned.

麻麻

walked ahead of Maxwell through the corridor because if I looked at him right now, if I looked at anyone kind right now, I might shatter in a way I hated. My skin felt too tight. My chest felt wrong. My wolf paced under my ribs with claws scraping bone.

Ria was not calm.

Neither was I.

The servants we passed lowered their eyes and moved aside quickly. I could smell fear, curiosity, sympathy. Dragonclaw had heard enough already. By now, they likely all knew what had happened in Silverfang, what Margaret had confessed, what Rebecca had done, what Marcel had allowed to grow under his own roof.

Good.

Let them know.

Let every Alpha and every Luna and every gossiping elder in every polished hall hear it.

Let them choke on the truth.

We reached Maxwell’s private sitting room. He pushed the door open and gestured me in first. The

144 Aftermath of the Hall

Get 28

room smelled of leather, cedar, and the spice tea he favoured. Warm. Solid. Safe in that heavy, old way

his home always felt,

I hated how safety still did not quiet me.

I stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, while Maxwell shut the door behind us.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Maxwell exhaled through his nose and said, “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

I laughed, short and sharp, because of course it wasn’t.

Still, I sat.

Not because I was calm. Because my legs suddenly felt like they had remembered what I’d done today and decided they were done carrying rage for one hour.

Maxwell lowered himself into the chair opposite me, forearms on his knees, watching me with that infuriating, fatherly patience I still didn’t know what to do with.

His gaze moved to my hands.

I looked down too.

My knuckles were red. A faint smear of someone else’s blood had dried near my wrist.

I rubbed at it with my thumb, hard.

It didn’t come off.

Something in my chest twisted.

“I should have done said quietly.

Maxwell didn’t flinch. “Maybe.”

My head snapped up.

He held my stare.

“I’m not going to lie to you to make you feel civilized,” he said. “What they did was monstrous.”

My jaw clenched.

< 144 Aftermath of the Hall

“Then why do I feel sick?”

“Because you are not them.”

The words landed too cleanly. Too directly.

Get 283

I looked away first, swallowing hard. My eyes burned, and anger surged at that too because I was sick of tears. Sick of pain finding new doors.

Maxwell leaned back slightly, studying me.

“There’s something else,” he said.

I stilled.

The shift in his tone told me before the words came. It won’t casual. It wasn’t about dinner or patrols

or Dragonclaw gossip. It was that careful tone men used when they were deciding how much damage. truth would do if handed to a wounded person.

My pulse kicked.

“What.”

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed faintly, not at me, at the shape of the moment.

“James requested an audience.”

Everything in me went cold.

Then hot.

Then cold again.

For one heartbeat I didn’t feel my body at all. Then rage slammed back in so hard my vision sharpened at the edges.

“No.”

The word came out fast. Raw.

Maxwell said nothing.

I stood so abruptly the chair legs scraped stone.

“No,” I repeated, louder this time, breathing already turning rough. “Refuse him.”

“Arya,

(1996

144 Aftermath of the Hall

“Please.” I heard my own voice crack and hated it instantly. “Please, Maxwell. Don’t. Not now.”

I turned away from him because I couldn’t bear the look in his face if he pitied me.

My hands were shaking again.

Damn it.

“I am not ready to face him,” I said, forcing each word out between clenched teeth. “I’m too angry. I’m too…” My throat tightened. “I might do something irrational.”

Silence.

Then the sound of Maxwell rising.

He came closer, but not too close. Never too close when I was this near the edge.

“For the sake of what we had,” I said, staring at the wall instead of him, “for the sake of the years

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify