Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 191

191 The Price of a Promise 3

Arya’s POV

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David stared at me for a second, then leaned back against the table with his arms folded.

“Give me the one that hurts my feelings least.”

Maxwell snorted softly into his cup.

I looked between them and said it plainly.

“Marcel has reason.”

David opened his mouth, but I lifted a hand before he could start.

“Listen first.”

To his credit, he did.

“Maxwell has embraced me publicly more than once. He put Marcel and Rebecca in their

place in Silverfang. He challenged their version of events in front of witnesses. He stood

in Blackbirth and made it clear Marcel lied and manipulated James. He has forced him

into humiliation again and again.” I let that sit for a second before I kept going. “Men like

Marcel do not forget that.”

Some of the mockery left David’s face.

I went on, slower this time, because this part mattered.

“He is vindictive. Petty. Patient when patience serves him and vicious when it doesn’t. He

can carry a grudge longer than some wolves can carry a territory.” I looked at Maxwell

then. “And if he cannot come at you openly because of rank and appearances, then he

will find another way. He will find wolves he can push. Wolves he can feed just enough

to make them useful.”

Silence followed that.

Not the kind that comes when people think you are wrong.

The kind that comes when what you said makes too much sense.

David rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the map.

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“It still doesn’t make him the only option.”

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“I didn’t say it did.”

He looked up at me.

I held his gaze.

“I said watch him.”

That pulled the faintest huff of laughter out of Maxwell.

Then he nodded, thoughtful and slow.

“We will.”

Something in me settled a little at that. Not fully. Not enough to call it peace. But

enough.

He set his cup down and moved closer to the table. Then he tapped three places with

one finger as he spoke.

“Look into any recent contact between Silverfang and those three packs. Trade routes.

Patrol overlaps. Petitions. Sponsorship. Messages. Anything.” His gaze shifted to David.

“Quietly.”

David nodded.

“I’ll have Kellan start with Union intake on Redclaw. If Marcel vouched for them, that

gives us one thread.”

“And Boris?” I asked.

Maxwell’s face hardened again.

“Boris gets watched from a distance first. I want to know who he speaks to before I

make him bury his fear.”

That settled heavily in the room.

Because Boris was not a rumour anymore.

He was a man.

A pack.

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A real piece moving inside a bigger game.

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And if Maxwell had chosen not to name him to the Union yet, it was because he meant

to learn more before he struck. It was the wise move. I knew that. Still, it made my skin

crawl. James had waited too long once. Too long to see the hand closing around his

throat. Too long to understand what was being built around him until it was already

cutting into bone. I could not forget that. I could not stop seeing his mistakes layered

over every new threat.

Maybe Maxwell saw some of that pass over my face, because when he looked at me

again, his expression softened just a little.

“We’re ahead of it now,” he said.

I wanted to believe him.

I wanted, suddenly and fiercely, for once in this ugly story to be ahead of something

instead of always arriving after the damage had already been done.

So I nodded.

David closed the notebook with a firm slap.

“Then what?”

Maxwell looked from him to me and back again. His answer came with the kind of

finality only tired Alphas can summon.

“Now, you both rest.”

David made a face.

“I’m not tired.”

“You’re bleeding through your fresh bandage.”

David looked down and muttered a curse.

I almost smiled.

Then Maxwell’s gaze shifted to me. I held it for half a second before I looked away first.

My body had started to feel too heavy all at once. The aches I had pushed aside were

waking properly now. My arm. My ribs. My shoulder. My thigh. The deep internal

exhaustion that comes after partial shift and too much adrenaline. He saw all of it.

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“That wasn’t a suggestion either,” he said.

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I let out a soft breath.

“Fine.”

David grumbled under his breath, but he was already moving towards the door.

Maxwell stopped us before we could leave.

“David, coordinate with Kellan on Marcel.”

David looked back, surprised only because his father had accepted the possibility so

quickly.

Maxwell’s mouth flattened.

“Arya is right about one thing at minimum. Marcel holds grudges. I want to know

whether he is feeding any of this.”

That was probably as much agreement as he was going to give out loud tonight.

It was enough.

David nodded once.

“I’ll handle it.”

Then he left.

I stayed a second longer.

The room felt quieter without him in it. The lamps buzzed softly. The fire had settled lower in the grate. Maxwell stood by the table with one hand braced against the edge, looking like a man already carrying tomorrow on his shoulders.

“You should rest too,” I said.

His mouth curved faintly.

“You’re starting to sound like Lev.”

That caught me off guard enough that I laughed once despite everything. It did not last long, but it lasted long enough for me to see the satisfaction in his eyes at having pulled

it out of me.

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