Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 15

15 Silver on the Door: No Way Out

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James’s POV

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, calculating now, offended pride turning into suspicion. “Where is

Arya?” she demanded, as if she had a right to say her name.

My lip curled.

If she had anything to do with this,

I didn’t finish the thought.

I turned away from her and kept moving.

Rebecca’s voice followed, sharp and shrill. “James! Come back here!”

I didn’t.

Because I couldn’t.

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Because my mate was missing and my sanity was slipping through my fingers.

Jasper pressed harder against the bond.

Sense her, he urged. Sense Ria.

I closed my eyes for half a heartbeat, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to focus

inward.

The bond wasn’t a rope. It wasn’t a chain.

It was a living thing, heat, scent, memory, emotion.

I reached for it like a drowning man reaching for the surface.

I reached for Arya.

For Ria.

For the wild, storm-bright presence that lived alongside my wolf.

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<15 Silver on the Door: No Way Out

And for a second,

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I felt something.

Not a voice.

Not a clear location.

But a pulse.

A faint, weak throb of life.

Low.

Close.

Inside the packhouse.

Jasper snarled, directing me like a compass.

Down. Near. Hidden.

My eyes snapped open.

Then memory hit me like a shove.

Maxwell.

Last night.

His words.

“She said she was going to the restroom. She hasn’t returned.”

Restroom.

The hallway near the old banquet wing, the one rarely used now, tucked behind storage rooms and an empty corridor that had once been part of the original abandoned structure

we’d rebuilt.

My breath caught.

I spun and ran, not caring who saw, not caring how it looked.

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My boots pounded against the floor, echoing through the quiet.

Behind me, I heard scattered footsteps, pack members trying to keep up, voices shouting

questions.

I didn’t answer.

I reached the corridor that led to the old restroom area and skidded around the corner hard

enough my shoulder scraped the wall.

The air here smelled stale.

Dust and damp stone.

The lights were lower. The hallway narrower.

And then I saw it.

The restroom door.

Locked.

With silver.

A thin silver chain looped around the handle and the metal lock, gleaming faintly in the dim

light like a cruel little ornament.

My blood turned to fire.

Silver.

In my packhouse.

On a door.

My hands clenched.

Jasper roared inside me, rage and fear blending into something monstrous.

Now.

I grabbed the chain.

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The moment my skin touched it, pain detonated through my palms. White-hot, vicious,

immediate. The silver burned like acid, searing flesh, sending the sharp stench of my own

scorched skin into the air.

I didn’t let go.

I yanked.

The chain cut into my hands, biting deep. The burn intensified, crawling up my arms like it

wanted to reach bone.

I snarled, teeth bared, and pulled harder.

The lock resisted for a second, then snapped.

Metal screamed.

The chain tore apart.

I ripped it away and threw it aside like it was nothing, even as my hands trembled from

pain, even as blisters rose instantly across my palms.

The door swung open.

And my world stopped.

Arya lay on the floor.

Curled awkwardly on her side, hair spilled across her face, her skin pale and damp with sweat. Her lips were slightly parted, cracked, dry. There was no movement in her chest that

I could see at first, and for a terrifying, endless second, my mind went blank.

No.

No,

I dropped to my knees so hard the impact rattled my bones.

“Arya,” I breathed, voice breaking.

I reached for her, my burned hands hovering for a heartbeat as if I was afraid touching her would confirm the worst.

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<15 Silver on the Door: No Way Out

Then her chest rose, shallow, weak.

Life.

A thin thread of it.

Relief hit me so hard I nearly choked on it.

Rage followed immediately after, flooding my veins.

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I scooped her up in my arms, careful but frantic, cradling her head against my shoulder. Her body was limp, too light, too still.

She didn’t wake.

She didn’t even flinch.

Her scent was wrong.

Faint.

Diluted.

And beneath it,

Silver.

My vision blurred with fury.

I carried her out of that room like I was stealing her from death. My boots pounded down

the corridor as I shouted so loudly the sound tore my throat raw..

“Lesley!”

My voice echoed through the packhouse.

“LESLEY!”

Footsteps thundered toward me. Faces appeared in the corridor, wide-eyed, terrified. Someone gasped when they saw Arya in my arms.

I didn’t slow.

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< 15 Silver on the Door: No Way Out

I didn’t stop.

“Get out of the way!” I snapped, voice wild, and they moved instantly.

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I carried Arya toward the nearest room, toward her quarters, toward safety. My hands burned with every shift of her weight, but I barely felt it.

Fear was louder than pain.

I shoved her door open with my shoulder and laid her down on the bed, gentle as I could manage with my hands shaking.

Her head rolled slightly on the pillow.

Her lips were grey.

My heart thudded so hard I felt sick.

“Stay with me,” I muttered, not sure who I was talking to, Arya, Ria, the baby, fate. “Stay with

me.”

The door burst open a moment later.

Lesley stormed in.

Thank God.

She looked travel-worn, cloak half-fastened, hair pulled back hastily, but her eyes were sharp and instantly focused. As if the healer in her had already taken control before she’d

even fully stepped into the room.

She took one look at Arya and moved fast.

“What happened?” Lesley demanded.

“Restroom,” I said, voice hoarse. “Locked. Silver chain.”

Lesley’s face hardened, anger flashing through her features before it vanished beneath professional cold.

She went to Arya’s side, pressing fingers to her throat, checking her pulse, lifting her eyelids, sniffing the air near her mouth.

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Her brows drew together.

Then she looked at my hands, burned, blistered, angry red.

“You idiot,” she muttered, but there was no heat in it, only urgency.

“Fix her,” I growled.

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Lesley ignored my tone and continued her examination, moving with brisk efficiency. She checked Arya’s wrists, her neck, the inside of her mouth. She pressed lightly against her

abdomen, and something twisted in my chest so sharply I had to clench my jaw to keep

from grabbing her.

Lesley’s eyes narrowed.

Then she straightened slowly and looked at me.

“Arya has been poisoned with silver,” she said.

The words dropped like stones.

My blood went cold, then instantly hot again.

“And she’s severely dehydrated,” Lesley added. “She’s been unconscious for a while.”

I didn’t need to guess.

I didn’t need to ask.

The silver chain. The locked door. The timing. The arrogance in Rebecca Rainhorn’s eyes.

The way Marcel had looked at Arya like she was an inconvenience that needed removing.

Rainhorn.

I felt the rage rise, savage and clean, and Jasper surged with it, his wolf snapping its jaws

inside my mind.

Kill them, Jasper roared. Kill them all.

My hands curled into fists, pain flaring where blisters split, but it only fed the fury.

I stared at Arya’s pale face and felt something inside me crack in a way that didn’t heal.

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“I’ll end them,” I whispered.

Lesley’s voice was sharp. “Not now, James. She needs treatment now.”

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I dragged in a breath through my teeth, forcing air into lungs that felt too tight.

Lesley started moving again, grabbing herbs, pulling out vials, calling for water, issuing

orders like a woman used to saving lives while men threatened to destroy worlds.

I stood there for a moment, useless, watching my mate lie still on the bed.

Fear clawed at me.

Rage burned through me.

And beneath both, there was a hard, bitter certainty.

I had limits right now.

I wasn’t on the council.

I wasn’t officially under Radimir’s seal.

I wasn’t protected by Union law.

If I struck at the Rainhorns) now, Marcel would crush us and call it justice.

But this,

This was not something I would swallow.

Not forever.

I stared down at Arya and made myself a promise so quiet it was almost a prayer.

Once I was on that council.

Once Radimir signed.

Once the Union could not touch my pack without consequence,

I would get even.

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I would repay the Rainhorns for every second Arya lay on that floor. For every burn in my hands. For every shallow breath she fought for.

And this time, the price would be theirs.

Not hers.

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< Luna Forsaken

16 A Promise I No Longer Believe

Arya’s POV

I woke with my hand on my stomach.

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Not because I’d planned to. Not because I’d been dreaming something sweet.

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Because panic had dragged me out of sleep like a claw around my throat, and my body had

reacted before my mind could catch up.

My palm pressed flat against the curve that wasn’t yet visible, fingers splayed like a shield,

like I could cover the life inside me with my skin and keep it safe from everything that had

tried to take it.

The air in the room smelled of herbs and smoke and bitter medicine. My mouth was dry,

my throat raw, and every swallow felt like sandpaper. When I shifted, my muscles

protested, heavy, weak, as though I’d been emptied out and refilled wrong.

For a moment, the memory didn’t come.

Then it hit.

Cold stone beneath my cheek.

Silver in the air.

A lock I couldn’t break.

My lungs tightening.

My limbs turning useless.

The rest room.

The chain.

The darkness.

I sucked in a harsh breath and my eyes flew open.

James was there.

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