Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 190

190 The Price of a Promise 2

Arya’s POV

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The corridor beyond the cells felt colder after the truth. David waited until the outer door

shut behind us before he finally let his frustration loose.

“He attacks our convoy, helps ambush us, rides under Boris’s orders, and now we’re

rescuing his mate.”

Maxwell kept walking.

“We’re rescuing leverage.”

David swore under his breath.

“That is not all we’re rescuing, and you know it.”

I did not say anything at first. I was tired enough now that the stone under my boots

sounded louder than it should have. My shoulder ached where one of the wolves had hit

me hard enough to bruise through partial shift, and my arm throbbed under the fresh

wrapping. The adrenaline was gone. What was left was that hollow, too-bright

weariness that comes after surviving something ugly. But my mind was still sharp. Too

sharp. Boris. Redclaw. Irongate. Cliffsand. Sofia in Gracefield. The road. The timing. The

masks. Pieces. Not finished. Not random.

Maxwell reached the top of the cellar stairs and stopped. He turned to face both of us in

the corridor light.

“I am not doing this because I pity him,” he told David. “I’m doing it because a man who

believes I honoured my word will give me more than a man who expects betrayal at

every turn.”

David crossed his arms.

“And if Sofia’s already gone?”

“Then we find out quickly.”

“And if this is another trap?”

“We move like it is one.”

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Maxwell’s tone did not rise. It never needed to. He was already five decisions ahead, and

David knew it. That was what annoyed him most whenever he got angry, being forced to

admit that his father’s coldest choices were often the right ones.

David scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a hard breath.

“Fine. Then who’s going?”

Maxwell answered immediately, which meant he had already started building the plan

the moment Sofia’s name was spoken.

“Kade. Suri. Eno. Two shadow-runners from west patrol. No Dragonclaw markings. No

direct route. They go in civilian clothes, trader cover first, ridge route second if watched. If

they find Sofia, they extract. If they don’t, they observe and get out.”

David nodded despite himself.

“I’ll get them moving.”

Maxwell gave him a look.

“Quietly.”

David rolled his eyes, but there was no real disrespect in it.

“Yes, Alpha.”

He pushed off from the wall to go, but Maxwell spoke again before he had taken two

full steps.

“And David,’

David paused.

“You’re not going with them.”

David’s mouth flattened.

“I didn’t ask to.”

“You were about to.”

“I was considering it.”

“No.”

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David glared at him.

“You can’t keep benching me whenever things matter.”

Maxwell’s gaze went cold.

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“Tonight, you are not being benched. You are being used where I need your head instead

of your fists.”

That landed because David did not answer straight away. Maxwell stepped closer and

lowered his voice.

“I need you here helping me pull at the rest of this.”

That was what finally settled him. David exhaled through his nose.

“Fine.”

Then he disappeared down the corridor quickly, probably already deciding which men

could move quietly and which ones could not keep their mouths shut long enough to be

useful.

The moment he was gone, the corridor felt quieter. Maxwell and I stood there in the

muted lamplight for a second. He looked tired now. Not weak. Never that. Just worn in

the way powerful men get when they know one wrong move will ripple far beyond the

room they are standing in.

“You should sleep,” he said.

I almost laughed.

“You first.”

The corner of his mouth moved, not quite a smile.

“Come,” he said instead. “Study.”

Maxwell’s study had never felt more like a war room. Maps already covered half the

main table. One of the servants had brought in coffee, bandages, and fresh lamps

without being asked, which only proved Dragonclaw knew its Alpha well enough not to

wait for orders. Outside the windows, the world was still dark, but dawn was already

beginning to think about showing up.

I stood near the fire while Maxwell moved around the room in controlled lines, setting

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papers aside, marking routes, thinking. The moment we were alone, the strategy came

out of him harder.

“I’ll report the attack to the Union before sunrise,” he said.

I looked up sharply.

“With Boris’s name?”

“No.”

That came without hesitation. He poured coffee into two cups and handed one to me

before he continued.

“I tell them facts. I was attacked on the return road by pack wolves masking as rogues. One live prisoner. Multiple dead. Coordinated strike.” His expression hardened. “I do not

give them Boris. Not yet.”

I wrapped my hands around the cup and let the heat sink into my fingers.

“You want to see where they start twitching.”

He looked at me over the rim of his own cup, and there was that flicker again. Approval.

“Yes.”

It made sense. If Boris was acting under someone else’s confidence, someone would start moving the moment the Union heard that Maxwell had survived a coordinated ambush. Messages would be sent. Tracks covered. Stories prepared. If Maxwell named Boris too early, the web might collapse inward before he could see its full shape. If he named only the attack, the guilty might show themselves by the direction of their panic.

I took a slow sip of the bitter coffee and felt the warmth cut through some of the chill still clinging to me from the cells.

David came back ten minutes later carrying a notebook and a face that still looked annoyed enough to punch something.

“The extraction team is moving within the hour,” he said. “Trader cover. Ridge alternate if

watched.”

Maxwell nodded once.

“Good.”

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David dropped the notebook on the table and opened it.