Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 4

Arya’s POV

James shut the door the second Marcel was gone.

Not gently. Not carefully.

Like he was sealing me in.

He turned, and the first thing he did wasn’t apologise.

It was breathe out like I was the problem he’d been managing.

“Arya, ”

“Don’t.” My voice came out sharp. “Don’t say my name like you didn’t just let him call me a rougue bitch.”

His jaw tightened. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking anywhere but mine. Cowardice dressed as restraint.

“You stormed in,” he said.

I blinked. “That’s what you heard? That I stormed in?”

“Arya, listen to me, ”

“No, you listen.” I stepped closer. My hands shook, and I hated that he could see it. “He stood there and said I was a rogue bitch and you sat there like a statue. Like I wasn’t your mate. Like I wasn’t your Luna.”

James’s face hardened.

“Lower your voice.”

That one sentence hit me harder than Marcel’s insult.

I let out a bitter laugh that tasted like blood. “You’re worried about my voice?”

“This isn’t about pride,” he snapped, then caught himself, forcing his tone down. “This is about survival.”

“Survival?” I shot back. “Survival is what we’ve been doing. Every day. Without selling my dignity.”

He moved closer, palms raised like I was an animal he needed to calm.

“There are packs mobilising,” he said tightly. “Packs that want to wipe us out. You know that.”

“I know.”

“And you know what happens if they attack and we’re not under Union protection.”

“We fight,” I said. “Like we always have.”

James’s eyes flashed. “How many more battles do you want? How many funerals before you stop being selfish and do the right thing?”

Selfish.

The word made my stomach drop.

I stared at him, stunned. “Selfish.”

He exhaled sharply, as if I was exhausting him. “Yes, Arya. Selfish. Because you’re making this about you.”

I stepped back like he’d struck me.

“About me?” My voice cracked. “You’re talking about me when you’re the one who agreed to bring another woman here? Your Luna. His daughter. In three days.”

James’s mouth tightened. “It’s politics.”

“It’s betrayal.”

“It’s necessary.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Necessary is building patrols. Storing food. Training wolves. Necessary is the things we bled for. This, ” I gestured between us, disgust burning through me, “, this is you throwing me under the bus because you want a seat at their table.”

His eyes went cold. “Watch your words.”

“Or what?” I snapped. “You’ll excuse me again? Tell me to leave the room while men decide my future?”

“Arya, ”

“You called me emotional,” I said, voice shaking now. “I can hear it in every word. Like my anger is the problem. Like my pain is the threat. Like I’m the reason our pack might die.”

James’s face tightened in frustration.

“Because you are acting like it,” he said. “You’re not thinking. You’re reacting.”

I stared at him. “Reacting.”

He took a breath, trying to sound calm. Trying to sound reasonable. Trying to make me small.

“Marcel’s help is required,” he said. “We need the Union. And we need to play along.”

Play along.

Like this was a performance. Like my life was a costume I could put on and take off.

I swallowed hard. “Alpha Maxwell promised, ”

James cut me off instantly.

“Maxwell promised us two years ago,” he said, voice sharp. “Two years, Arya. And what has he done?”

“He said they were observing us,” I fired back. “He said we needed to prove ourselves.”

“And how long do you plan to keep waiting?” James demanded. “How long? Another year? Two? While we keep fighting off packs that want our land and our throats?”

His voice rose with each word, like he’d been storing this resentment for months and finally found a place to pour it.

“You think I enjoy this?” he snapped. “You think I enjoy bending my neck to a Rainhorn?”

“You enjoyed it enough to let him call me a bitch,” I said, low and deadly.

James flinched, actually flinched, then hardened again.

“That was strategy.”

“Cowardice,” I said.

His eyes darkened. “If my strategy keeps our people alive, then call it whatever you want.”

I shook my head, breath ragged. “So this is what I am to you now? A sacrifice you can justify?”

“Arya, stop, ”

“No.” I stepped in again, forcing him to look at me. “Answer me. Disregarding our bond and mating with another woman, was that the ‘right thing’?”

James’s throat bobbed. He looked away for half a second.

Then he forced himself to meet my eyes.

“It’s transactional,” he said quickly, like he’d rehearsed it. “It’s politics. Marcel wants his daughter placed. He wants influence here. That’s the price.”

“The price.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m what? The inconvenience standing in the way of your price?”

“You’re my mate,” he said, frustrated. “You know that.”

And it hit me, there was no getting through.

His decision was already made.

And it hadn’t included me.

My voice came out quiet. Too quiet.

“Did you ever plan to let me have a say?”

James swallowed.

“Arya, ”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Answer me. When you asked me to come with you, when you asked me to chase your dream with you, did you ever plan to share the throne?”

His mouth opened.

Nothing came.

Not one word.

Not even a lie.

The silence went straight through me.

I nodded slowly, like my body was accepting what my heart couldn’t.

And then the trap closed around my ribs, tight and suffocating.

Because I couldn’t just walk away.

Leaving meant becoming rogue again.

Leaving meant death.

Leaving meant my child growing up hunted, or not growing up at all.

And I saw it in James’s eyes, he knew that too.

He knew I had no safe exit.

He knew I was cornered.

And he was using it.

My voice shook, small and wrecked.

“So… this is it,” I whispered. “You’ve already decided. And I’m just supposed to survive it.”

James stepped forward. “Arya, ”

I held up a hand, stopping him.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, my words trembling. “Not when your hands are already reaching for someone else.”

I stared at him until my vision blurred, until the pain turned sharp enough to breathe.

And when I spoke again, it was barely a sound.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Was I ever your partner… or was I just the ladder you climbed?”

He couldn’t answer.