Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 202

202 What Was Left

James’s POV

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For a while after Maxwell said it, I just stood there and let it hit me. Not because I had

never thought it before. I had. Too many times. In quiet moments. In ugly ones. In those

few seconds after Leah spoke too smoothly or Marcel smiled too calmly or something in

my gut turned over and I told myself I was just becoming paranoid. I had suspected. That

was the filthiest part. I had suspected and still kept going. So hearing Maxwell say it like

that, plain and hard and with no interest in softening it for my pride, felt like something

in my chest had been cut open with a blade I had handed him myself.

You were played, James. And you lost everything for nothing.

Nothing. That word stayed. It did not leave the room when Maxwell’s voice did. It stayed

in my head, in my throat, in my bones. It moved through every memory I had been trying

to survive and made each one uglier. Arya in the cell. Arya crying. Arya bleeding. Arya

standing there while I chose process, panic, ambition, pressure, anything but her. And all

of it for nothing.

I dragged in a breath and found it did not fill my lungs properly. Maxwell was still

standing there watching me, arms folded, face hard, not gloating, not pitying. That

somehow made it worse. He was not enjoying this. He was just refusing to lie to me to

make my shame easier to carry.

“Marcel isn’t to be trusted,” he said.

I almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was so far beyond obvious now

that hearing it stated plainly felt like fate mocking me to my face. I didn’t argue. How

could I? There was nothing left to defend. Not Marcel. Not my choices. Not even the

reasons I had once leaned on because they all sounded rotten now.

I sat down because if I stayed standing I thought I might either pace the room into

splinters or break something expensive out of pure rage and self disgust. Maxwell

stayed where he was. Nixon had gone very still off to one side, quiet enough to nearly

disappear into the room, but I knew he was listening to every word. He had earned that

much. He had stayed through all this, even while I made the kind of mistakes that should

have made a good Beta question whether his Alpha still deserved the title.

I rubbed a hand down my face and forced the words out before pride could stop me.

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202 What Was Left

“I feel trapped.”

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It came out rough. Honest. Smaller than I liked. Maxwell did not react much, but I saw it

in his eyes. He had expected anger first maybe. Or denial. Not that. So I kept going.

“Leah won’t go away, no matter how cruel I am to her. Marcel keeps threatening to use

the Union against me. And now I know what I was refusing to see before.” I swallowed

and looked at him properly. “Union packs have been the ones orchestrating attacks.

against me. Maybe not just Marcel. Maybe not just Boris. But enough of them. Enough to

know I’m surrounded and I don’t know who to turn to.”

It sounded pathetic once it was out. Too open. Too late. But Maxwell did not mock me

for it. He only asked after a beat,

“How badly do you want to join the Union now?”

That question should have had an easy answer once. There was a time I would have said

anything to it. Promised anything. Bargained with blood if I had to. I had built too much

around the idea that Union recognition meant survival. That it meant Nightwind could

stop fighting every season just to be allowed to keep breathing on claimed land.

But now?

I leaned back in the chair and stared at the far wall because it was easier than looking at

either of them. And for the first time since I started down this whole ugly road, I realised

something I should have understood much earlier.

With Arya gone, none of it felt right anymore.

Not the seat. Not the title. Not the recognition. Not the pack. Not even the land. Not

because they were worthless. I knew better than that. Men depended on me. Families

slept under Nightwind roofs because I took that pack and carved it out of dangerous

ground with my own hands. But the need had changed shape. Before, I wanted the

Union because I thought it would protect what mattered. Now that the one person who

would have made any of it worth the sacrifice was gone, it all felt hollow. Necessary

maybe. But hollow.

I let out a long breath and said it.

“With Arya gone, it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Maxwell said nothing. That silence let me keep going.

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<202 What Was Left

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“After learning what Lisa and Margaret did…” My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. “After realising how easily my own people could sell her out, sell me out, to whoever offered

them enough safety or status…” I shook my head once. “They weren’t worth the

sacrifice.”

The words tasted bitter because I knew they were not entirely fair. Not all of Nightwind

betrayed me. Not all of them betrayed her. But enough had. Enough watched. Enough

stayed quiet. Enough chose fear over loyalty that the foundation under my pack felt

cracked now in a way I did not know how to repair.

And still that was not even the real centre of it.

I looked up at Maxwell and made myself say the truth without trimming any of its

shame.

“The only person who would have made it worth it…” My throat tightened. “I betrayed

her. I chased her away.”

The room stayed still around that.

I laughed once under my breath. It sounded ugly.

“I know she won’t forgive me.”

My eyes burned, and I hated that Maxwell could see it and that I no longer had enough

pride left to hide it well.

“How could she?” I said. “I didn’t shield her when I should have. I said a lot of harsh

things I can’t take back. And every day since, I keep hearing them again and again, and

all I can think is how easy it would have been to shut my mouth and stand beside her

just once when it counted.”

Maxwell sighed then. Not sharply. Not impatiently. It was the sigh of a man who had

seen too many wolves ruin what mattered most because they only understood its value

after losing it.

“I’m glad you can see you’re remorseful,” he said.

The phrasing was strange enough that in another mood it might have annoyed me.

Instead I understood what he meant. He was not rewarding remorse. He was only

marking it as fact and moving past it because men in our positions did not get to stop at

regret. We had packs. Borders. Lives attached to our failures.

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< 202 What Was Left

“As an Alpha,” he continued, “you still have to salvage what is left.”

There was the truth again. Simple. Hard. Necessary.

Salvage.

Not restore.

Not undo.

Not redeem.

Salvage.

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