Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 245

245 The First Strike 2

Arya’s POVO

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The last time I heard Daniel’s voice, James was still a man I thought I knew. We had been moving through rough territory then, living with little, bargaining with less, crossing paths with rogue groups and free wolves trying not to starve. Daniel had led one of the better ones. Hard man. Smart. Suspicious by nature. But not dishonourable. He had always thought ahead. Always looked for openings. Always understood the value of land. If anyone would see what Silverfang’s new status meant, it would be him.

I pressed the call button and leaned back slowly in the chair while it rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the line clicked. He did not speak at once. Neither did I. That was Daniel. Silence first. Measure first. Never revealing more than necessary until he knew what he was dealing with. Finally, his voice came through, rougher than I remembered.

“Hello. Who is this?” he asked. Of course he would. This was a new phone and a new line after all. I cleared my throat and answered.

“It’s Arya,” I replied and he was silent for bit before answering.

“Arya?”

“Yes,” I said.

There was a pause on the line. Well, that was fair. I had vanished from that part of my life long ago. Calling him this early in the morning could only mean one thing. Trouble.

“To what do I owe this?” Daniel asked.

His tone was careful, but I heard the interest beneath it. The caution too. I looked out the window.

“I have information,” I said.

Daniel was quiet again. That told me enough. He was listening properly now.

“What kind of information?” he asked.

“The kind you will want to hear before anyone else does,” I told him.

“Arya,” Daniel said, and there was a faint warning in his voice now, “I have not heard from you in years. Don’t toy with me.”

“I’m not toying with you,” I said. “I’m giving you a chance.”

He did not speak. So I went on.

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“Silverfang has lost Union protection.”

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That changed the silence on the line. Not broken. Changed. I could almost hear the shift in his breathing. The sharp attention. When Daniel spoke again, his voice had gone harder.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I watched it happen.”

He let out a slow breath. I could imagine him already thinking. Already seeing the same thing I was seeing. Territory. Open territory. Vulnerable leadership. The absence of outside retaliation. A rare chance to move without the usual fear of Union consequences crashing down after. Still, Daniel was

not a fool.

“Temporary?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Suspended?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. Then he asked the real question.

“If we move on Silverfang, are you sure the Union will not come after us?”

That was what it all came down to, wasn’t it? Men like Daniel did not fear battle. They feared wasting battle on the wrong target. They feared winning land only to lose their people under bigger powers afterward. I leaned forward in the chair and lowered my voice, though there was no one in the room

with me.

“They won’t.”

Daniel did not respond immediately. He was weighing the certainty in my tone.

“Arya,” he said at last, “that is not a small thing to promise.”

“I know.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“I am not.”

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He made a low sound, like he was still thinking through the holes, still trying to find the trap. There was no trap. Not from me. I let him sit in it for a second before adding,

“Marcel was stripped. Publicly. The Union made their position clear. Silverfang stands alone now.”

That hit. I knew it did because Daniel laughed once under his breath. Not with humour. With disbelief mixed with hunger.

“Well,” he said quietly. “That is interesting.”

I almost smiled. Interesting. That was one way to put it. My gaze drifted again to the window. The sky outside was clear. Too clear. One of those mornings that looked innocent if you did not know better. The kind of morning that made violence feel almost holy when it finally arrived to tear through the calm.

“I want Marcel and Rebecca to suffer,” I said.

I did not dress it up. I did not soften it. Daniel went silent again, but it was not surprise this time. It was attention.

“I don’t want them dead yet,” I continued. “But I don’t want Silverfang to know peace either.”

There. That was the truth of it. Dark and ugly and honest. My chest did not tighten with guilt after saying it. If anything, I felt steadier.

Daniel exhaled on the other end.

“What about the people?” he asked.

That was why I had called him and not some mindless brute who only knew how to burn and take.

“I have nothing against the people of Silverfang,” I said. “I am not asking you to slaughter civilians or destroy the innocent because their leaders are rotten. The leadership is the problem. Marcel and his Luna, Rebecca. That house. That bloodline sitting there as if they have the right to rule untouched.”

Daniel grunted softly, which meant he understood.

“But the pack?” he asked.

“The pack can survive new rule,” I said. “What it should not survive is peace under them.”

I let the words sit. I meant every one. Because Silverfang had stood too long under that family’s filth. Too long while Marcel used politics like a knife and Rebecca moved through the world with her soft voice and venom under it. Too long while they treated wolves like tools and women like objects to position, mock, or bury. Enough.

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Daniel’s voice came back firmer this time, more engaged now that he understood the shape of the offer.

“I have warriors,” he said. “Plenty. More than enough to take Silverfang if their protection is truly gone.”

My pulse beat once, harder. There it was. The opening widening.

He went on, “I can subdue them. Take over. Hold the territory on your behalf if that’s what you want.”

For one second, I said nothing. Not because I was tempted to let him do it alone. But because hearing it aloud made it real in a different way. Silverfang could fall. Not years from now. Not in some distant fantasy where fate finally balanced its scales. Now. Soon. My fingers tightened around the phone.

“No,” I said.

Daniel paused.

“No?”

“No,” I repeated, colder now. “When the day comes, you tell me. I will be there.”

The silence after that was sharp. Then Daniel said,

“You plan to lead the fight yourself?”

“Yes.”

He let out a rough breath.

“Are you sure?”

That almost made me laugh. Sure? Was I sure? Had I not bled enough for certainty by now? Had I not lain awake enough nights with their names in my mouth like poison? Had I not watched enough of my life get taken, twisted, and offered up to their comfort? I stood from the chair and walked slowly towards the window.

“I have a score to settle with the Rainhorns,” I said. “And I plan to settle it now that there is an opening.”

Daniel was quiet.

Then, more carefully, “This is personal.”

I looked out over the grounds, but I was not seeing them anymore. I was seeing Silverfang in my mind. Its roads. Its gates. Rebecca’s face when she realised the walls around her name meant nothing now. Marcel’s expression when he understood that the world he manipulated had turned and left him exposed. The fear. The disbelief. The helpless rage.

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“Yes,” I said. “It is personal.”

There was no shame in that. Men made wars personal all the time and then wrapped them in noble language so the world would clap for them. I had no interest in pretending. This was revenge. This was strategy. This was old pain finally finding teeth. Daniel did not judge it. Good. He would have lost my respect if he did.

Instead he asked the question that mattered next.

“And when it starts, what do you want?”

I closed my eyes briefly. Not because I needed to think. Because I already knew.

“I want Marcel brought down in front of his people,” I said. “I want Rebecca to know fear. Real fear. Not discomfort. Not anxiety. Fear. I want them to understand what it feels like when the ground disappears under their feet.”

Daniel made a thoughtful sound.

“And Silverfang?”

“It changes hands.”

“To you?”

The question sat between us. I opened my eyes again.

“Yes.”

There it was too. The thing under the revenge. The thing that made this bigger than a raid or some ugly

burst of violence.

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