Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 255

255 Fair Game 2

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For a split second, I saw how young she really was. Not innocent. Never that. But young in the foolish way. Raised to think her father’s schemes were natural, that women like Arya could simply be moved aside, that a title worn long enough would become truth. Then the softness in her face curdled back into fury.

“As your Luna, I cannot agree to this,” she said.

I stared at her. Slowly, dangerously, my mouth curved. Not a real smile. Something closer to contempt.

“Your what?” I asked.

She lifted her chin higher. “Your Luna.”

That was when I laughed properly. A hard ugly laugh that made her flinch.

“Where is your mark?” I asked.

Her face drained. I stepped closer.

“Show me your mark, Leah,” I said. “Show me where I claimed you. Show me where I made you mine.”

She said nothing. Because she could not. Because there was nothing to show. Because no matter how much Marcel pushed and schemed and forced and threatened, I never crossed that final line with her. Some stubborn ugly loyal part of me had held there, even while I was betraying Arya in every other way that mattered.

“I never consummated anything with you,” I said coldly. “So do not be presumptuous.”

The slap of those words across her face was almost visible. Her nostrils flared. For a second I thought she might burst into tears. Instead she went harder.

“You will regret speaking to me like this,” she hissed. “I will tell my father to deal with you.”

There it was. That stupid little threat. That familiar reliance on Marcel’s shadow. A month ago, maybe it would have landed differently. Maybe not with fear exactly, but with caution. With annoyance. With calculation. Now? Now it only made me angrier. Because even after everything, even with the lies cracking open, even with Nightwind already slipping from his hands, she still thought invoking Marcel would keep men in line.

I moved closer still until she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at me.

“Tell him,” I said.

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She blinked.

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“Tell him,” I repeated. “Go and tell your father to deal with me. Tell him everything. Tell him I am done. Tell him his little grip on Nightwind is finished.”

Leah opened her mouth, closed it, then glared at me so hard her whole face tightened. For one mad second I thought she might actually run to Marcel with it. Maybe she still would. But before she could speak again, there was another knock at the half-open door. Then Nixon stepped in.

He looked from me to Leah and then back again. He was holding his phone. There was something in his face too. Not alarm. Not confusion. Something else. Something that sat between amusement and disbelief. He had walked in on enough arguments in his life not to be thrown by the sight of Leah and me standing there with enough tension between us to start a war.

“Bad time?” Nixon asked, though from the look in his eyes, he already knew it was an excellent time.

Leah turned on him at once. “Get out.”

Nixon raised a brow. That almost made me smile.

“Stay,” I said.

Leah spun back to me. “James,”

“What?” I asked coldly. “You were about to threaten me with your father. Let Nixon hear it too.”

Her face reddened. Nixon, damn him, looked almost entertained now. He shut the door behind him and stepped further in, his attention dropping briefly to the phone in his hand. I noticed that. Something about the way he held it. The way his mouth was trying not to shift. Excitement. That was what I saw. And for one second, I forgot Leah entirely.

“What is it?” I asked Nixon.

He looked at Leah, then at me, then gave a short laugh under his breath. “The union sent a circular,” he

said.

My heart kicked once. Hard. A circular. Real union communication. For one stupid hopeful second, pure satisfaction rushed through me. So fast it was almost intoxicating. Because that meant it was real. Dragonclaw’s Nightwind pack. Recognised. Included. Under the shield. Protected enough to receive communication sent to members. I had done it. I had actually done it. Despite Marcel. Despite

the delay. Despite all the rot. Nightwind was in.

I looked at Nixon and saw that same almost smug look on his face and it only fed the moment. He was pleased too. Of course he was. He had been with me through enough of this mess to know what this meant. To know what it cost. To know what it might save. Leah noticed the shift in my face too

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and tried to read it, but Nixon did not help her. He looked right at her and laughed. Actually laughed. Then he handed the phone to me.

“Read it,” he said.

I took the phone without hesitation. My pulse was still beating too hard. I looked down. And then everything changed.

It was an official circular all right. But not the one I expected. The words sat there so plainly that for a second my mind did not absorb them. Then it did, and heat shot through me so quickly I almost laughed before the sound even reached my throat. Silverfang. Irongate. Redclaw. Cliffsand. Nightwood. Licences suspended indefinitely. No union protection for the duration of their suspension. Fair game.

I read it again. Then again. Just to make sure I was not seeing what I wanted to see because I wanted

it too badly. No. It was real. It was there in black and white. Silverfang was suspended. Marcel was

exposed. Not just politically embarrassed. Exposed. Stripped. Left out in the open for every hungry pack, every waiting enemy, every rival with old grudges and new ambition to see. Fair game.

A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it. Then another. Nixon crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, watching me with the kind of satisfaction only a man feels when he brings excellent news into

a room that badly needs it.

Leah was frowning now. “What is it?” she demanded. “What did it say?”

I did not answer her. I was still reading. Still laughing under my breath. Marcel. God. Marcel. The old

bastard had actually fallen. Not completely maybe. Not dead. Not gone. But fallen enough that the

union itself had stamped him as exposed meat in the water.

All at once I thought of Arya. Not gently. Not softly. I thought of her face. Her pain. Her humiliation. The child she carried. The way I failed her. The way Marcel and his disgusting daughter wrapped

themselves around my life and helped tear hers apart. I thought of the long chain of decisions and

compromises and lies and fear that led us all here. Then I thought of Silverfang standing without

protection. And I laughed harder.

Leah took one angry step toward me. “James, what did it say?”

I lowered the phone slowly and looked at her. Really looked at her. She had no idea. No idea at all. Good. I wanted to keep it that way for a little while. I wanted her ignorant. I wanted her still standing in

that old stupid confidence while the ground under her bloodline had already cracked open. There was

pleasure in that thought. Ugly pleasure. The kind I might have once judged in another man. The kind I

now understood. Because Marcel had earned it. Because Leah had earned it too.

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