Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 153

153 Ashes Under Oath 3

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Lev’s POV

I looked back at Maxwell. “I’m not interested in making her forget what made her dangerous.”

Maxwell’s gaze sharpened, then softened by a fraction. “Good answer.”

I exhaled once, hard.

“But,” he added, pointing a thick finger at me, “don’t confuse helping her become dangerous again with using her pain as kindling for your own war.”

I almost smiled at the precision of that strike. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

“I think you want Marcel’s throat,” he said bluntly. “I think you want Silverfang

humiliated. I think you want every hand that touched this mess broken.” He leaned

forward slightly. “And I think some of that is for Arya. Some of it is because you’re a territorial bastard who just met a woman worth burning cities for.”

A dry, humourless laugh left me before I could stop it.

“That obvious?”

“To me? Yes.”

I rested my forearms on my knees and looked at the floor for a moment. “I told you

already. I want to get back at everyone that hurt her.”

Maxwell nodded slowly. “I know.”

“I also know she may not let me.” I lifted my eyes to his. “If I move openly, she’ll see it as

another man trying to decide her battles.”

“She would.” His answer was immediate.

“So I do it in the shadows.”

That made him sit back and study me. “And what, exactly, does that look like in your head?”

I didn’t answer right away because I had been building the shape of it for days, maybe

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153 Ashes Under Oath 3

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longer, refining it every time Arya flinched at a memory and then stood straighter out of

spite.

Finally, I said, “Marcel uses Union status like a private weapon. He swindles. He

manipulates. He hides behind procedure while he ruins lives. If he wants the Union as a

shield, I take the shield.”

Maxwell’s expression didn’t change. “Meaning?”

“I remove Silverfang from the Union.”

The words fell into the room clean and cold.

Maxwell inhaled slowly and then let the breath out through his nose, eyes still on mine.

“That’s not a shadow move. That’s a declaration.”

“Eventually,” I said. “If done wrong.”

“If done at all,” he corrected. “You don’t just walk in and strip a pack’s standing because

you hate its Alpha.”

“I don’t hate him,” I said quietly. “I’ve barely started.”

That pulled a glare out of him. “Lev.”

I held his gaze. “I’m not talking about temper. I’m talking about exposure. He can be

ruined properly.”

Maxwell folded his arms. “Radimir won’t accept you acting irrationally on Marcel yet.”

“I’m not planning irrational,” I said. “I’m planning complete.”

He watched me for a long moment, then shook his head once. “Listen to me carefully.

Marcel has survived this long because he doesn’t overplay his hand in front of the right

people. Radimir is… fond of him.”

The word came out with visible distaste.

“Fond,” I repeated.

Maxwell’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Radimir sees a useful, polished, ‘stable’ Union Alpha.

Marcel knows exactly how to perform for men who value order more than they

investigate the cost of it.”

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I leaned back, eyes narrowing. “That makes him easier to bury if we expose him cleanly.”

Maxwell’s gaze flashed. “Eventually. Not now. Not in one move.” He tapped the chair arm once. “If you rush to remove Silverfang outright, Radimir will defend the institution before he questions Marcel. He’ll see it as a challenge to his judgement.”

“He should question his judgement.”

“He should,” Maxwell said sharply. “And he won’t, not if you force his pride into the

room.”

The truth of it irritated me because it was likely right.

I stood, then sat back down immediately, catching myself before movement became agitation. Maxwell noticed and pretended not to.

“I want Marcel removed,” I said, voice lower. “I want Silverfang deregistered. I want to see how secure he feels without Union protection to hide behind.”

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