Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 182

182 Blood on the Road

Arya’s POV

By the time the dinner began to break apart, my nerves felt scraped raw.

The ballroom had thinned from a glittering spectacle into clusters of lingering power. Some Alphas remained in tight circles talking low, no doubt already dissecting Radimir’s

failed announcement, Lev’s refusal, Marcel’s discomfort, and every look exchanged

across the room. Others drifted toward the exits with their entourages, eager to leave with their pride intact and their versions of the night ready to spread.

I stood near Maxwell, quieter now, the heat of the evening still clinging to my skin.

Lev had not let me out of his orbit for long after carrying me out of the women’s section. He had stayed close enough that I could feel him before I saw him, close enough that

every whisper in the room changed tone. When he did move away, it was only because duty kept pulling him back toward Radimir, toward men with old power and younger

resentment.

I hated how aware I was of him even at a distance.

I hated how my body knew the shape of his presence now.

Ria was unbearable.

He said you were with him for the rest of the evening.

And yet here I am, standing on my own two feet.

Only because he put you down.

I ignored her and adjusted the bracelet at my wrist instead.

Maxwell was speaking with his Beta and Rusty, one of his senior security men, about the departure. David stood on Maxwell’s other side, one shoulder angled lazily as if this were all a family gathering and not a nest of wolves smiling over sharpened teeth. But I had watched him enough tonight to know he missed very little. His humour was easy; his attention was not.

Lev approached just as Maxwell was giving the final instruction.

“You’re leaving now?” Lev asked, gaze moving from Maxwell to me.

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There was no accusation in it. Just a controlled disappointment I felt in my chest anyway.

Maxwell folded his arms. “We are.”

“It’s late.” Lev’s tone stayed calm. “You can stay the night. The east guest wing is clear.

I’ll have it secured.”

Maxwell’s expression did not change. “I appreciate it.”

That alone told me he had already decided no.

Lev glanced at him, then at Radimir across the room, seated, surrounded, smiling that

old smile that never quite reached his eyes. Lev’s jaw tightened so briefly I might have

imagined it if I hadn’t been watching for every shift in him all night.

Maxwell lowered his voice. “I’ll feel safer in my own territory.”

The words were polite enough for anyone overhearing.

The meaning beneath them was not.

Lev held his gaze for a beat, then nodded once. “Then I’ll send extra escort vehicles to

the border line.”

Maxwell’s mouth curved faintly. “That, I’ll take.”

Lev’s gaze finally found mine and stayed there long enough to make the room blur at the

edges.

“Travel alert,” he said quietly.

It sounded like a command.

It sounded like concern.

It sounded like both because with him, it was always both.

I lifted my chin. “I’m always alert.”

The corner of his mouth moved, dark amusement flickering despite the tension under it.

“Not always.”

Heat climbed my throat before I could stop it.

David, curse him, looked between us and nearly grinned.

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Maxwell made a low sound in his throat that might have been a warning to all three of

Lev stepped closer, close enough that the space between us turned charged again, close

enough for his voice to drop beneath the room’s noise. “Message when you reach

Dragonclaw.”

“I don’t report to you.”

“No,” he said, eyes on mine, “you don’t.”

He reached up as if to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, stopped short, public room,

too many eyes, and let his hand drop. The restraint of it burned more than the touch

might have.

Then he stepped back and the moment closed.

We left soon after.

The night air outside Blackbirth was colder than I expected, the kind that bit the skin

beneath formal fabric and cleared the heat from your head whether you wanted it to or

not.

The convoy was already being arranged when we reached the front drive.

Maxwell’s main car would take him, David, and me. A security vehicle would go ahead,

another behind. Rusty moved between drivers and guards with brisk efficiency, checking

routes, weapons, radios, and placements like a man who trusted habit more than luxury.

I glanced once over my shoulder before getting in.

Lev was still at the entrance, a dark, immovable figure against the lights of Blackbirth.

He looked built for battle even in formal clothes, like violence and control had simply

been tailored for the evening. He didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.

He just watched until our doors shut.

And I felt it all the way into my bones.

Inside the car, the leather seats were cool and the cabin smelled faintly of cedar, metal,

and the lingering scent of the men who used it often, Maxwell’s pack, his guards, his

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