Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 166

166 Safe in the Wolf’s Den

Arya’s POVO

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I had barely finished noting the strange look on David’s face when the room shifted.

Not loudly.

Not with a shouted announcement or a dramatic entrance.

It was subtler than that, conversations lowering by instinct, shoulders straightening,

heads turning in one direction at once. Power moved through the hall before the man

himself did, old and established and unquestioned.

Then Radimir entered.

Everyone rose.

I did too.

He came in with Lev at his side, and two beautiful women behind them, one clearly his

daughter, poised and polished with the kind of confidence that came from being born

into power; the other no less refined, likely the friend’s daughter Maxwell had warned

would be among this kind of company. They moved like women used to eyes following

them and never once doubting they belonged exactly where they stood.

But it was Radimir who held the room.

He was old, very old, the years visible in the silver of his hair, the lines in his face, the

measured slowness of his movement, but nothing about him felt weak. His authority sat

on him like another layer of skin. Even age had not softened the edge of command in

him. If anything, it had sharpened it into something colder and harder to challenge.

And beside him, Lev looked like the future everyone in the room had already begun

adjusting to.

Dark. Controlled. Unreadable.

Power in waiting and power already in motion.

My pulse kicked once when Lev’s gaze found me across the hall.

It did not linger long enough to draw attention.

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It still felt like a touch.

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Radimir was helped to his seat, and only then did everyone sit again. The hall settled

into attentive silence, the kind born not from fear alone but from hierarchy deeply

understood.

Radimir looked over the gathering before he spoke.

His voice was aged, yes, but steady. It carried.

“I am honoured to have you all here.”

A polite wave of murmured respect moved through the room.

He lifted a hand slightly, and silence returned.

“As many of you already know, I will soon be stepping back from active leadership.” His

gaze shifted toward Lev, then returned to the guests. “Before that transition is complete, I am taking a sabbatical while Lev handles Union matters more directly, so he may grow accustomed to the weight of the task.”

Applause broke out around the hall, measured in some corners, enthusiastic in others.

I clapped too, though my eyes slid to Lev.

He did not smile for the room.

Did not perform humility.

Did not look dazzled by public approval.

He accepted it with that same infuriating composure he wore in training, as if he had

already made peace with the burden and had no intention of asking permission to carry

Radimir continued after the applause faded. “There is more to come in due time. For

tonight, eat, speak, observe, and enjoy Blackbirth’s hospitality.”

That drew lighter laughter and another ripple of approval.

Then he leaned back in his chair, looking every bit the old wolf who knew exactly how

much energy to spend and where. The formal part was done. The room loosened

instantly.

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Music rose a little.

Voices returned.

People stood.

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Clusters formed and reformed around power, alliances, curiosity, and gossip.

The two women with Radimir drifted into conversation with guests, elegant and socially

skilled in a way that told me they had done this all their lives. Lev remained near his

uncle for a short while, speaking to him and a few older alphas who approached in turn.

Maxwell rose and looked at me. “Come.”

I stood at once.

His Beta moved with us as we joined the flow of people, and Maxwell began introducing

me properly, not as a guest, not as some rescued wolf trailing behind him, but clearly

and deliberately.

“My daughter, Arya.”

Every time he said it, something tightened in my chest.

Some alphas already knew who I was. I saw it in their eyes, the flicker of recognition, of

memory from Silverfang, of that ugly day when lies were dragged into daylight and

Rebecca’s polished face cracked in public. Those ones were easier to read. Some were

openly receptive, some cautious, some calculating.

Others hadn’t met me before.

Those were the harder ones.

They smiled with their mouths and measured me with their eyes.

They greeted Maxwell warmly and took half a beat too long before acknowledging me.

They heard daughter and still saw former rogue.

I kept my face calm.

I greeted who needed greeting.

I bowed my head where respect required it and held my spine straight where scorn tried

to provoke.

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If they wanted me rattled, they would go hungry.

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We were mid-conversation with a middle-aged Alpha and his mate when I felt it before

I saw it, hostility sharp enough to cut through layered scents and polite music.

Rebecca.

She stood three clusters away, turned half toward us, her mouth already tightening in

outrage. Marcel was beside her, speaking to another guest, and I saw the exact second

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