Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 38

38 The Sentence in Silver

Arya’s POV

The moment his words landed, “It is Alpha to you”, something inside me snapped so cleanly

it felt quiet.

Not like a scream.

Like a cord being cut.

I stood there in the cold cell, hands still stinging from the silver bars, my palms marked and burning, my throat raw from begging that had gone nowhere. My eyes were swollen, but the tears slowed, not because I was calmer, because I was done.

James stood on the other side of the bars, shoulders tense, jaw tight, eyes still red-rimmed from rage and exhaustion. Two guards hovered behind him in the corridor, watching like I was an animal that might lunge.

I stared at him.

Long.

Hard.

Then I let out a breath that sounded like laughter but wasn’t.

He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t understand what had shifted.

I stepped closer to the bars again. Not touching them this time. Not begging. Not pleading.

My voice came out low, steady, dangerous.

“You will never be my Alpha.”

James’s face twitched.

For a second, he looked rattled, like he wasn’t expecting defiance from a woman he’d just

reduced to a prisoner.

I didn’t stop.

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“Hand me my part of the land,” I said, every word sharp. “Let’s end this charade.”

James’s gaze flared.

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice rough.

“You heard me,” I replied. “I said end it.”

He swallowed, nostrils flaring, and took a step closer to the bars.

“Even now,” he said, voice rising, “even after all you have done, after killing an innocent baby, you still have the effrontery to think of gain.”

My stomach tightened at the word baby, but I didn’t drop my eyes.

I lifted my chin.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “And if you are hell-bent on believing them, then let’s go our

separate ways.”

James gave a sound, half a chuckle, half a choke, like the words hurt him in places he didn’t

know he still had.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

He didn’t wipe it away.

He only stared at me, face pulled tight, like he was balancing between heartbreak and fury

and couldn’t decide which one would win.

“You think you can just walk away,” he said bitterly.

“I think,” I answered, “that I don’t belong here.”

“You belong,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Whether you like it or not.”

I laughed once, short and harsh.

“Do I?” I asked. “Because last I checked, you didn’t even recognise me as your mate in that

hall. You watched them throw things at me. You watched Rebecca slap me. You watched

your pack call me a whore and a venomous bitch. You watched them order my death.”

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James’s jaw clenched.

“I stopped it.”

“You stopped it,” I echoed, voice slicing, “and then you locked me in a cell built for rogues

and hardened criminals.”

James’s eyes flickered.

“I had to,” he said, voice hard.

“You didn’t have to,” I shot back. “You chose to.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Do you want to know what choice looks like, Arya?” he demanded. “Choice is not letting Marcel burn this pack to ash because of you.”

I stared at him.

“Because of me?” I repeated, slow. “You’re still saying that like it’s fact.”

James’s mouth tightened.

“I have witnesses,” he said. “I have confessions.”

“You have beaten women who said whatever they needed to say to stop the pain,” I

snapped.

James’s gaze sharpened.

“They were questioned,” he said through clenched teeth. “They were pressed. They were given every chance to change their story.”

“And if they did,” I asked, voice cold, “would they still be breathing?”

James flinched slightly, like the truth annoyed him.

I didn’t let the silence save him.

“You stood there and called me jealous,” I said, voice trembling only with rage now. “You

stood there and said jealousy could make a woman ruthless.”

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James’s eyes flashed.

“Can it not?” he shot back. “Can it not, Arya?”

I stared at him like he’d grown another face.

“After everything,” I said, slow and low, “you’re still asking me that?”

James swallowed.

His voice dropped, pained and angry at once.

“You were humiliated,” he said. “You were pushed. You were hurt.”

“By you,” I cut in immediately.

His jaw clenched.

“And yet,” he continued, ignoring the interruption, “you still chose the most destructive path by doing this.”

“I didn’t,” I said flatly.

James’s eyes hardened again, like he was tired of hearing it.

“Then why did they name you?” he demanded.

“Because you let them,” I fired back. “Because Marcel wanted me out. Because Rebecca wanted me dead. Because Leah wanted me erased. Because you made it easy.”

James’s chest rose.

“You think everything is a conspiracy,” he spat.

“No,” I said, voice razor-sharp. “I think everything is politics. And I think I am the pawn you

keep sacrificing.”

James stared at me, breathing hard.

Then his face tightened into something colder.

“Fine,” he said. “You want to talk like this? Let’s talk.”

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He stepped closer to the bars until his face was near mine, separated by silver and iron.

“You own nothing here,” he said.

The words hit, but I didn’t flinch.

James’s voice stayed cold, deliberate, like he wanted the sentence to hurt exactly as much

as it did.

“You own nothing here,” he repeated. “If I have to go by your demands, then everyone that fought for this pack deserves land.”

His eyes locked on mine.

“I am Alpha,” he said, voice hard. “And it is called Nightwind Pack.”

I felt my lungs tighten, but I held my face steady.

“Your only claim,” James continued, “was because you were my Luna.”

He leaned closer.

“But at this point,” he said, “you own nothing here.”

My laugh burst out, wild and sharp, and it tasted like pain.

I laughed because it was unbearable.

Because it was absurd.

Because I could hear the echo of what he used to say to me, how we built this together,

how we were equals, how no one would ever come between us.

Now he stood here and told me I owned nothing.

Like I was a guest in a home I’d bled for.

Like I was nothing but a title he’d taken away.

My laughter turned into a sound that almost broke into a sob, but I swallowed it down.

I balled my fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

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Then I looked him dead in the eyes.

“Give me my freedom,” I said, voice steady, hard, “and let me leave in peace.”

James stared at me.

I didn’t blink.

“You can keep it all, James,” I continued. “Keep the land. Keep the title. Keep the pack that suddenly pretends I never existed.”

James’s jaw tightened.

I leaned forward slightly, letting my voice sharpen like a blade.

“I wonder how long Marcel will let you have the illusion of being Alpha,” I said.

James’s eyes flashed.

“And I will never,” I added, louder, fierce, “call you or treat you as Alpha.”

His lips parted.

I didn’t let him speak.

“I allowed myself to be used,” I said, voice shaking with fury, “and deceived by you.”

I pointed at him, my finger trembling slightly, not with fear, rage.

“Not anymore,” I said.

My words hung between us like a challenge.

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