Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 187

187 The Man Who Wasn’t a Rogue 2

Arya’s POV

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The holding cells sat beneath the eastern wing, built into older stone. Cool, damp,

secure. The corridor smelled of iron, torch smoke, and old fear. Two guards stood outside

the third cell, their shoulders squared the moment they saw me. Inside, the prisoner sat

chained to a ring in the wall. They had cleaned him enough to keep him alive but not

enough to make him comfortable. Dried blood still crusted at his temple and mouth. One

of his wrists was swelling where I had slashed him to disable him, not kill him. His

breathing was shallow but steady. He looked up when we approached, and whatever

swagger he had tried to hold on to in the courtyard came back over him like a mask.

Maxwell and David were already there. Maxwell stood with his arms folded, filling the

narrow space with sheer authority. David leaned against the opposite wall like he had all

the patience in the world, but his eyes were alert and mean. The prisoner looked at me

first. Interesting. Not Maxwell. Not David. Me. He remembered who had taken him down.

Good.

Maxwell nodded once when I entered.

“We start now.”

The guard unlocked the outer gate and let us into the interrogation chamber area just

outside the bars. Close enough to speak softly. Far enough to avoid stupid lunges. The

prisoner lifted his chin and grinned through blood.

“Come to watch your men threaten me, Alpha?”

Maxwell’s expression did not move.

David laughed under his breath.

“He thinks he’s in a story.”

I stepped closer to the bars and rested one hand lightly against the cold iron. The

prisoner’s eye followed the movement.

“You’re trying very hard,” I said.

His grin sharpened.

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<187 The Man Who Wasn’t a Rogue 2

startled him.

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“Thank you,” I said softly.

His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

“For confirming you’re not a rogue.”

Silence dropped hard. He stared at me. Even David went quiet. I tilted my head a little,

studying him the way Lev studied stances and breathing and weakness.

“Rogues don’t talk like that,” I said. “Not real rogues. They don’t build pride around

insulting women in front of stronger men. They don’t sit still and posture for an audience.

They bite, spit, threaten, bargain, lie, piss themselves, curse everybody’s bloodline,

sometimes all in the same minute. But you…” I let my gaze move over him. “You were

taught what to say when captured.”

The smirk slipped. Not fully. Enough. He recovered fast.

“You think you know what rogues sound like?”

“I know what hungry men sound like. I know what desperate men smell like. I know

what masked pack wolves smell like too.”

His jaw tightened. I leaned closer to the bars.

“You’re not here to survive this,” I said quietly. “You already decided that.”

His nostrils flared. Maxwell stayed silent. David had gone still behind me, letting me

work. I straightened and stepped back a little, changing my tone like the shift was

casual.

“Fine. Don’t answer.”

The prisoner blinked. I turned away from him and addressed Maxwell like we were

talking about the weather.

“He’s committed. We won’t get anything useful by dawn. By morning he’ll probably

harden again after the pain settles. We should hang him at first light and move on.”

David caught on immediately.

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<187 The Man Who Wasn’t a Rogue 2

“Efficient,” he said dryly. “Waste of a body, though.”

The prisoner jerked against his chains.

“You can’t,”

I looked back at him sharply, like I was surprised he had spoken.

“Can’t what?” I asked.

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His mouth opened. Closed. I walked closer again, but this time I softened my voice, not

with kindness, but with cold practicality.

“You came to kill us. You failed. Your men are dead. You’re in the cell of the Alpha you

tried to assassinate. You’re not Union enough to ransom. Not rogue enough to trade. Not

important enough to keep.”

He was breathing harder now. The bravado was cracking at the edges. I lowered my

voice even more.

“You will die here, and whatever cause you thought you were dying for will continue

without you.”

His gaze snapped to mine. There it was. Fear. Not of pain. Of irrelevance. So I pressed.

“They won’t sing for you. They won’t stop the campaign. They won’t name pups after

you. They’ll use the next man. Then the next. Your Alpha will still eat at his table. He’ll

still sleep in his bed. He’ll still call other wolves loyal while your bones rot under

someone else’s stones.”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

I did not.

“You’ll never know if the people you bled for even won.”

“Shut up.”

“You’ll never know what story they tell about you. Maybe they call you brave. Maybe

they call you stupid for getting caught.”

His chest started rising faster, and the chains gave a small metallic shake as his muscles

tensed.

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