Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 34

34 The Trial Without Proof: The Verdict in Their Eyes

Arya’s POV

Lisa sobbed and shook her head violently, like she didn’t want to answer.

Margaret cried, “In the kitchens! Before the banquet!”

I snapped, “I wasn’t in the kitchens.”

Margaret screamed, “Yes you were!”

I shouted, “No, I was not!”

The hall roared back at me.

“A liar!”

“Shut up!”

“Confess!”

I looked at James again, shaking my head, desperation climbing.

“They’re lying,” I said, voice cracking. “James, they’re lying.”

James’s jaw flexed.

He didn’t speak.

Rebecca stepped forward, eyes blazing with delight.

“You see?” Rebecca said loudly. “Even the kitchen staff knows.”

I snapped toward her.

“Show proof,” I demanded. “If I instructed them, show proof.”

Rebecca’s smile widened.

“Proof?” she repeated, amused.

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“Yes!” I shouted. “Proof! Words are easy. Lies are easy. Show something. A message. A

witness. Anything!”

Rebecca walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps.

Her eyes were bright.

Her mouth curled.

“You rogue,” she said softly, almost lovingly.

Then,

Her hand flew.

A hard slap cracked across my face.

The hall gasped.

My head snapped to the side.

My cheek burned instantly.

For a moment, the sound rang in my ears.

Rebecca’s voice followed, sharp and smug.

“I believe them,” she said, loud enough for everyone. “I don’t need any proof. Who else would benefit from hurting my daughter if not you?”

My hand lifted to my cheek, not because it hurt the most, but because it had happened in

front of everyone.

Because it was permission.

Because once she hit me and no one stopped her, the entire pack understood what I had

become.

Marcel’s voice thundered.

“Justice,” he demanded, eyes blazing. “Either you give justice to my daughter and her

unborn child,”

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34

He yanked James closer again by the collar.

or you can kiss the Union goodbye.”

James’s eyes flashed.

Marcel leaned in, voice turning colder, more vicious.

“And I won’t stop there,” he said. “I will come with an army. And I will make sure I destroy all

of you.”

A wave of panic and rage rolled through the hall.

People turned on me like starving wolves.

“What did she do?!”

“She ruined everything!”

“We were going to be safe!”

“Kill her!”

Something struck the floor near my feet, a cup.

It shattered.

Then another object, bread.

Then a plate clattered across the table and hit the ground.

And then it became a storm.

People started throwing whatever they could grab.

“Wicked whore!”

“Useless!”

“Venomous bitch!”

A piece of meat hit my shoulder.

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I flinched.

Not from pain.

From the shock that they were doing it.

That they were doing it so easily.

That they were doing it like I was nothing.

Lisa and Margaret sobbed on the floor, still shaking, still pleading as if they hadn’t just

signed my death warrant.

Rebecca lifted her hand and pointed at me.

“Beat her to death,” she ordered, voice gleeful.

The hall went quiet for a split second.

Then a roar.

“Yes!”

“Kill her!”

“Justice!”

Guards moved.

Not all of them.

But enough.

They stepped forward, eyes hard, weapons not drawn yet but bodies already closing in.

My pulse slammed.

My hands flew instinctively to my stomach.

Protect.

Shield.

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Hide.

My breath came fast.

I looked around.

Every exit was blocked.

Every path was filled with bodies.

If I shifted, they’d call it proof.,

If I fought, they’d kill me faster.

If I ran, there was nowhere to run.

I turned toward James again, my eyes pleading openly now, the last shred of dignity

slipping.

“James,” I whispered.

He stared at me.

His face was carved from stone.

His eyes, cold, distant, looked like they didn’t recognise me anymore.

The guards moved closer.

A hand grabbed my arm.

I jerked back.

Another hand reached for me.

My heart pounded.

I clutched my stomach tighter.

Rebecca’s voice rose again.

“Do it!” she snapped. “Kill her!”

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And the pack responded with another roar.

“Kill her!”

“Kill her!”

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

All I could see was hands and hatred and the way their faces twisted.

People I had once called family. People I had fed, clothed, sheltered. People I had fought to

protect.

James’s voice exploded.

“STOP!”

The hall jolted.

The guards hesitated.

Rebecca turned, furious.

“How dare you,”

James stepped forward, eyes blazing.

“Enough,” he growled.

Marcel’s eyes narrowed. “Do not protect her,”

“I’m not protecting anyone,” James snapped, voice rough and furious. “I’m controlling my

pack.”

His gaze cut toward the guards.

“Stand down.”

The guards froze.

Rebecca’s face twisted with rage.

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“She poisoned my daughter!” she screamed.

James’s eyes flashed.

“We are investigating,” he barked. “No one will lay a hand on her until I say so.”

The hall erupted in angry protests.

“She deserves death!”

“Justice!”

“Union is gone because of her!”

Marcel shoved James hard in the chest.

“You will give me justice,” Marcel snarled. “Or I will take it.”

James’s face was thunder.

He turned toward me.

And for the first time tonight, he spoke directly to me.

His voice wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t loving.

It wasn’t private.

It was cold, loud, and crushing.

“I am disappointed in you.”

The words hit harder than the slap.

Harder than the thrown plates.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out at first.

Then my voice finally broke free, ragged.

“I didn’t do it,” I cried. “James, I didn’t,”

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James lifted a hand, cutting me off.

His eyes stayed hard.

“Enough,” he said sharply.

I shook my head violently.

“No!” I cried, louder, desperate now. “They’re lying! They’re lying because they were beaten!

Because they’re terrified! Because,”

“Enough,” James repeated, voice like iron.

My breath hitched.

I stared at him, stunned.

Rebecca’s smile returned, triumphant.

Marcel’s gaze burned.

James turned to his officers.

“Take her,” he ordered.

My heart dropped.

Not death.

Worse.

Public disgrace.

Public rejection.

I backed up instinctively, clutching my stomach.

“No,” I whispered.

Two guards stepped toward me.

Their hands reached for my arms.

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I twisted away, panic flooding.

“Don’t touch me,” I choked out.

One of them grabbed my elbow.

Another took my other arm.

I struggled, but I couldn’t fight them without making it worse.

I couldn’t shift.

I couldn’t strike.

I couldn’t do anything without turning myself into the monster they wanted.

Tears blurred my vision.

I looked at James again, voice cracking.

“I’m innocent,” I cried. “I would never do that!”

My voice broke, loud and raw in the hall.

And for the first time, truly the first time since all this began, I cried in public without holding

it back.

Not quiet tears.

Not controlled tears.

A full, shaking breakdown.

“I’m innocent!” I sobbed. “I would never, I would never do that!”

People shouted over me.

“Liar!”

“Whore!”

“Kill her anyway!”

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The guards dragged me forward.

My feet stumbled.

Someone threw something again, another cup, hitting my shoulder.

I flinched.

I tried to keep my hands on my stomach as they pulled me, as if my arms could shield the

baby from the hatred in the room.

James’s voice rang again.

“Lock her up.”

Rebecca’s voice hissed, “Don’t let her escape.”

Marcel watched, eyes cold, satisfied.

The pack roared behind me as I was dragged out of the hall.

My sobs echoed in the corridor.

They didn’t stop.

No one comforted me.

No one defended me.

The guards didn’t speak.

They hauled me down stairs, through stone passages, deeper into the packhouse where the air grew colder and the light grew dimmer.

Then the dungeon doors opened.

Iron, silver.

Old.

Heavy.

Cells built for rogues and hardened criminals.

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They threw me forward.

I stumbled into a cold cell, hands still clutching my stomach, tears streaming down my

face.

The door slammed.

The lock snapped shut.

And my pleas, my crying, my innocence, fell on deaf ears as the darkness swallowed me

whole.

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