Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 49

49 No Alpha of Mine

Arya’s POV

“You think you will survive out there?” James’s voice cut through the room, low and harsh. “You think it is easy?”

I laughed.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t amused. It came out sharp, like the kind of laugh you give when someone is still trying to threaten you with the same knife they already plunged into your chest.

“I am safer out there than here,” I said, eyes locked on his, “with you and your puppet master, James.”

His jaw flexed. He hated that phrase. He hated when I said the truth so plainly that he couldn’t hide behind speeches.

“It’s best you let me go,” I continued, voice steady, cold, fast. “Because the Arya you used to know died with our baby.”

Something shifted on his face. A crack. A flinch. His eyes went glossy, and for a split second he looked like he might actually crumble.

Then he did what he always did when he couldn’t fix something.

He tried to touch it.

He walked to me.

I didn’t move toward him. I didn’t soften. I didn’t give him an inch. But he was already close enough.

His hand lifted, slow and careful, like I was a wounded animal he thought might still respond to gentleness.

His fingers brushed my cheek.

A gentle caress,

A mockery of tenderness.

Like he hadn’t stood by while I was torn open in front of the pack.

Like his hands hadn’t held the blade that cut me free of him.

“I know,” he said quietly, and his voice tried to sound calm, tried to sound reasonable, like

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reason could exist between us now. “I know you did what you did because you were angry… and jealous… and because you knew it wasn’t my baby.”

I stared at him.

The nerve.

The audacity.

He spoke like he was still the judge and I was still the accused who needed his forgiveness.

He spoke like he hadn’t taken everything.

His thumb stroked my cheek again, like he could rub the truth into something else.

“I won’t hold it against you,” he added, his voice taking on that tone, soft, persuasive, patronising. “And once we get Radimir’s approval, I will,

I laughed again, louder this time.

It cut him off mid-sentence.

It bounced off the walls like a slap.

He froze, eyes narrowing, anger flickering in them, but I didn’t care. I didn’t owe him politeness. I didn’t owe him silence. I didn’t owe him the dignity of letting him finish his lies.

“Look around you, James,” I said quickly, words clean and sharp. “The pack you are

sacrificing everything for will turn on you.”

His eyes hardened. His hand dropped from my cheek like my laughter burned.

I didn’t slow down.

“I fought by your side,” I said, voice rising, fast and biting. “I brought them in. I protected them. I fed them. I gave them a home.”

His lips parted, like he wanted to interrupt, like he wanted to say we, like he wanted to claim

credit, like he wanted to rewrite history.

I didn’t let him.

“And look at what they did,” I snapped, “the moment they got a promise of something

better.”

James’s face tightened. His nostrils flared.

“Don’t think they won’t do the same to you,” I said, stepping closer, not because I wanted him near me, but because I wanted the words to hit him in the chest. “You’re not special to

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them. You’re just useful.”

His

eyes

flashed, offended, like I’d insulted his pride instead of warning him of the

inevitable.

I tilted my head and smiled without warmth.

“I maintain I didn’t do it,” I said, voice suddenly calmer, deadlier. “And I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

His mouth twitched.

I saw it, the reflexive disbelief, the reflexive judgement. The same judgement he’d used to justify every cruelty.

“But when I decide to do something about my situation,” I continued, voice smooth like a blade sliding free of a sheath, “know that I will gladly own up to it.”

James stiffened.

His eyes sharpened, alarm flashing through them.

I leaned in just enough to make sure he heard every word.

“But that poisoning?” I said, each syllable deliberate. “I refuse to take credit for it.”

The room went tense.

James’s hand shot out.

He grabbed my wrist.

Hard.

Not gentle anymore.

Not caressing.

Claiming.

Controlling.

His fingers squeezed like he wanted to crush the defiance out of my bones.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, voice low and furious. “Don’t you dare jeopardise the future of this pack, Arya,”

I stared down at his hand on my wrist.

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Then I looked back at his face.

“You dare not do anything you will regret,” he continued, voice sharpening, his grip tightening as if pain could force obedience. “You have done enough.”

I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t plead.

I didn’t pull away yet, because I wanted him to feel how little he could move me now.

“When this issue dies down,” he said, breath rough, trying to regain control, trying to pull the conversation back into the delusion where he was still the man making plans, “you’ll get pregnant again. Have another baby.”

My stomach turned, not with sadness, not with grief, but with pure disgust.

“And I will be there for both of you,” he finished, voice thick with certainty, like he was offering me salvation.

I laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was insane.

use he truly believed he could replace what they’d taken from me with a new child, like es were coins you minted after a loss.

Because he truly believed I would lie down again and let him plant life in me after he helped destroy the last one.

“I refuse,” I said, fast and cold, yanking my wrist slightly, not enough to break free, but enough to make him feel the resistance. “I refuse to be your mistress, James.”

His eyes widened, anger igniting.

“Spare me the pity,” I snapped, the words spilling out like fire. “I will never carry your child,”

My voice dropped, sharp as a vow.

“Not in this life.”

I looked him straight in the eyes as I said it.

Fire in my gaze.

No trembling.

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No softness.

No room for negotiation.

James’s face contorted.

Something feral sparked in him, rage, desperation, ownership.

He stepped in and forcibly pulled me against his body.

Hard.

Too close.

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