Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 183

183 Blood on the Road 2

Arya’s POVO

Maxwell glanced back, amusement lines at the corners of his eyes despite himself.

“Don’t fill her head with nonsense.”

David shot back immediately, “I’m not. I’m reporting observable facts.”

I muttered, “You sound ridiculous.”

“Good. Means I’m right.”

I should have been annoyed. I was annoyed. But the warmth in it caught me off guard,

the ease, the teasing, the way David spoke like a brother already, not because of politics

or obligation but because he had chosen to shift after hearing the truth.

Something in my chest ached around the edges.

Maxwell must have sensed the change because he shifted the conversation before it

could settle too deep.

“So,” he said, voice lighter than usual, “tell David how you handled the tea section.”

I groaned. “No.”

David straightened instantly. “There was a tea section? With the women? And you

survived?”

“I did more than survive,” Maxwell said dryly.

I glared at the back of his head. “You are enjoying this too much.”

“Very much.”

David laughed. “Tell me.”

I tried to stay stern. I failed.

Between the darkness outside and the hum of the road, with the convoy lights cutting

through the night ahead of us, the story came easier than I expected. I told them about

Diana arriving all polished smiles and sharp instincts, about her sniffing me and making

that comment about Lev. David nearly choked laughing at my expression when I

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repeated it. Maxwell muttered something about Diana having the subtlety of a knife in

daylight.

Then I told them about the women’s lounge.

The jabs.

The “wild” comment.

Rebecca’s poison.

The way they spoke to Mary through me and about me to hurt us both at once.

David’s grin faded at some parts, then returned twice as hard when I got to my answer.

“You told Mary to worry about winning his heart first?” he said, delighted. “In that room?”

“I did.”

He slapped a hand against his thigh and laughed openly. “Gods, I wish I’d seen

Rebecca’s face.”

“Like she’d swallowed glass,” Maxwell supplied.

I stared at him. “You were enjoying yourself.”

“I was enjoying your composure,” he corrected, but the humour in his tone ruined the

seriousness.

Even I laughed then, a small sound at first, then real enough that it surprised me.

For a little while, in the dark road between Blackbirth and Dragonclaw, the night became

almost normal.

David kept teasing.

He mimicked the horrified faces of imaginary noble girls when Lev lifted me. He claimed

half the young women in Blackbirth would now start practising being carried “just in

case.” Maxwell told him he was insufferable. David said he got it from him. I told them

both they were impossible.

And for a few stolen miles, I forgot to brace for impact.

That was when something slammed into the car.

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The sound was violent, metal struck hard, a thick explosive crack against the windscreen

so sudden it felt like the night itself had hit us. Glass starred instantly across the front,

white fractures blooming like lightning.

The driver cursed and jerked the wheel.

Maxwell barked, “Hold it!”

Before the car fully stabilised, another impact hit.

This one harder.

The remaining clear section of the windscreen shattered inward in a spray of safety glass

and night air, fragments scattering across the dash and Maxwell’s shoulder. David threw

an arm across me by instinct as the driver fought the wheel.

Brakes screamed.

Ahead, the security vehicle stopped so fast its rear lights flared blinding red in the dark.

Our car lurched to a halt behind it, sideways enough that my shoulder slammed into the

door.

Behind us, the rear escort braked hard too, tyres biting gravel and dirt.

For one heartbeat there was silence.

Then Rusty’s voice cracked over comms from the front vehicle, sharp and urgent.

“Movement! Out! Out!”

Maxwell was already moving.

“Stay low,” he snapped, shoving his door open into the dark.

David was beside him before I could answer, all humour gone, his body changing with

lethal speed from teasing son to Alpha blood. He grabbed the compact blade under the

seat and looked at me once. “Arya,”

“I know.”

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