Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 24

24 The Price of Protection

James’s POV

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The door to Arya’s room shut behind me.

The sound didn’t echo through the corridor.

It hit.

Like a verdict.

I stood there for a second too long, my hand still hovering near the handle, my chest rising

too hard. I swallowed, but it didn’t help. My throat stayed tight.

I’d gone in there to fix it.

To tell her she still owned my heart.

To remind her she was stil Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading!

And instead, I’d left her shaking with rage and hurt, and I’d walked out like the villain they

were turning me into.

I dragged a breath in and forced my feet to move.

Two guards bowed as I passed.

I didn’t look at them.

I didn’t want to see their faces.

I didn’t want to see respect when I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

By the time I reached my office, my jaw was locked so tight it ached.

I shoved the door open and stepped inside, then slammed it shut behind me.

The room smelled like ink, old leather, and paperwork.

It smelled like leadership.

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Like decisions.

Like the kind of choices that cost blood.

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I paced once, twice, then stopped at the desk and gripped the edge so hard my knuckles

whitened.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

My heart was still beating wrong.

Not fast like fear.

y like guilt.

arcel’s voice replayed in my head like a curse.

If Leah isn’t given her place, you can kiss Union support goodbye.

And I’d believed him.

Because I’d seen what happens to packs without protection.

I’d seen the bodies.

I’d buried warriors.

I’d watched people who trusted me die.

I closed my eyes, and Arya’s voice flashed through me instead.

Get out, James. Just get out!

My hand tightened on the desk.

“I know,” I whispered, like she was still there. “I know.”

A knock sounded.

Not soft.

Not polite.

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The door opened before I could answer.

Nixon.

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My Beta stepped inside like he owned the space, which he did, in his own way. His face

was hard, his eyes sharp, and the set of his shoulders said he’d already decided what he

thought of me tonight.

He shut the door behind him and didn’t bother with greetings.

He looked me up and down once.

Then he exhaled through his nose.

“So,” he said. “That’s how it feels.”

I didn’t lift my head.

“Nixon,”

He cut me off.

“That’s how it feels when you sell your soul,” he said coldly. “It sits in your chest like rot.”

My jaw flexed.

“I didn’t sell my soul.”

Nixon took two steps closer, stopping in front of my desk.

“You didn’t?” he asked, voice low. “What do you call it then?”

I looked up.

My eyes met his.

“I had no choice,” I said.

His laugh was short and humourless.

“You had a choice,” Nixon snapped. “You just wanted the easy way.”

I slammed my palm on the desk.

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“The easy way?” I barked. “You think this is easy?”

Nixon didn’t flinch.

“No,” he said, voice sharp. “I think it’s cowardly.”

My chest rose hard.

“You don’t understand what Marcel threatened.”

“I understand exactly what he threatened,” Nixon shot back. “And I understand what you

threatened.”

I went still.

Nixon leaned forward slightly, eyes burning.

“You stood in front of your mate,” he said, each word clear, deliberate, “and you let another

woman wear her chain. You let them call her nothing. You let your pack watch her bleed in

silence.”

My throat tightened.

“That’s not what I wanted.”

“But it’s what you did,” Nixon said, voice like steel.

I forced my hands to unclench.

“I’m keeping them alive,” I said. “I’m keeping all of us alive.”

Nixon’s eyes narrowed.

“At what cost?” he asked.

I didn’t answer fast enough.

His lips curled.

“Exactly,” he said.

I was about to speak when the phone on my desk rang.

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One sharp ring.

Then another.

The kind of ring that didn’t belong to routine calls.

Nixon’s gaze flicked to it.

Mine did too.

I reached for it, already knowing.

My stomach turned.

I lifted the receiver.

“Yes.”

Marcel’s voice came through smooth and pleased.

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“James,” he said, like we were friends. Like he hadn’t put a boot on my throat and smiled while doing it.

I kept my voice flat.

“Alpha Marcel.”

A chuckle.

“So formal,” Marcel said. “Good. It means you’re learning.”

Nixon’s stare drilled into me from across the desk.

Marcel continued, voice easy.

“The time has finally arrived.”

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