Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 222

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Radimir waved a hand like he wanted the whole topic gone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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I let out a quiet breath and leaned against the edge of the couch instead of standing over him again. Men like Radimir only dug in harder when they felt cornered.

“Marcel Rainhorn lied to a new Alpha,” I said. “He told him he would help him enter the Union in exchange for favours.”

Radimir lifted a brow.

“And?”

That one word almost made me laugh.

Not because it was funny.

Because there it was. The rot, plain and simple. And? As if that sort of thing was normal.

As if it was small. As if it was something to step over instead of tear out.

“And we cannot condone that,” I said.

My voice sharpened a little, but not much.

“Because if we do, Union Alphas will start using the Union to rip people off. Promises become currency. Seats become bribes. Certification becomes a weapon. And once that

starts, no one trusts the structure anymore.”

Radimir’s mouth tightened, but I did not stop.

“You know what happens when something like the Union turns into a market,” I said. “It starts rotting from the inside. And when that happens, it doesn’t matter how large the army looks on paper. The centre stops holding because nobody believes in it anymore.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You’re repeating Maxwell’s words.”

There it was.

Of course that was where he went. The easiest escape. Make it sound like Dragonclaw influence. Make it sound like Maxwell had filled my head. Make it sound like this was

emotion instead of sense.

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I held his gaze.

“I’m not taking Maxwell’s words as proof.”

Radimir lifted his chin.

“Then what are you taking as proof?”

“I know people who were affected by Marcel’s actions.”

That was true.

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Not just Maxwell. Not just James. I had heard whispers for years. Quiet ones. Careful

ones. Men talking when they thought it would go nowhere. Men who knew Marcel’s

methods but kept their mouths shut because Marcel wore his loyalty well enough at

dinners and smiled at the right people and played respectable Union Alpha for men like

Radimir.

I had heard it long before Arya came into this.

Arya had just made it personal.

And personal was where my patience ended.

Radimir pressed his lips into a line.

“You’re young,” he said after a moment, and there it was again, that old condescending

tone. “You want to solve everything with force. Marcel is useful.”

Useful.

That made something in me go still.

Useful.

That was how men like Radimir always named wolves like Marcel. Not honourable. Not trustworthy. Not safe. Useful. As if utility could wash filth clean. As if a useful snake was

somehow less likely to bite the hand that fed it. That was how so much of this region

had been held together for years. Gather enough useful men. Feed them enough favour. Keep them close enough to point in the right direction. And then act surprised when they

grew hungry and turned their teeth inward.

I pushed off the couch and stepped toward the desk. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just

enough to make it clear I was done hearing him dress rot up as strategy.

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“I’m not asking for permission.”

His eyes sharpened.

“I’m oves tare

“Then what are you doing?”

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“I’m telling you,” I said, “to back off and stand down when I start dealing with Marcel for

his actions.”

Radimir’s face tightened at once.

“You don’t have the authority,”

“I do.”

I cut him off cleanly. Not louder. Just sharper.

He stared at me.

I stared back.

“You can let me handle it cleanly,” I said, “or you can interfere and make it ugly.”

His jaw flexed hard at that. Then he stood up slowly, pushing my chair back as if

standing would somehow give his words more weight. It didn’t. Not here. Not with me.

“You’re threatening me again.”

I did not deny it.

“Should you interfere,” I said, my voice lower now, “you won’t like the outcome.”

That sat between us like steel.

He did not answer for a while.

He just watched my face again the way he had earlier. Looking for heat. Looking for

recklessness. Looking for the hot blood of youth so he could dismiss everything I said as

temper. He found none. Because I was not playing.

Not with Arya.

Not with Blackbirth.

And not with Marcel Rainhorn using the Union like it was his private hunting knife.

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