Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 53

53 Loyalty Questioned

James’s POV

Nixon stared at me like he was trying to decide whether I was still worth following.

My fist still tingled from the punch I’d thrown. My chest still burned. His blood was still on his skin, wiped away like it meant nothing. He didn’t look angry the way most men would. He looked… settled. Like he’d crossed a line inside himself and wasn’t going back.

And that was worse.

Because I could handle anger. I could handle shouting. I could handle a fight.

But this, this calm, this certainty, this was what you gave a man you’d already

condemned.

I swallowed hard, jaw clenched, trying to hold on to the thread of authority in my voice. Trying to pull the room back into order with nothing but my Alpha tone.

It didn’t work.

Nixon’s gaze didn’t drop. His shoulders didn’t fold. He didn’t apologise. He didn’t even

act like I’d struck him.

He just kept looking at me.

And I felt something shift in my gut, sharp and ugly.

Because his words, his accusation, were still in the air, and I could not punch them out of

existence,

He had laid it out too cleanly.

Too logically.

Too easily.

And the worst part was how it fit.

How it slotted into the mess like the missing piece I hadn’t wanted to see.

My mouth opened, denial ready, anger ready.

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Nothing came.

Nixon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Then he spoke again, and his voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

“Look at you,” he said. “Fighting it.”

I exhaled through my nose, rough, irritated.

“I’m not fighting anything,” I snapped automatically.

Nixon’s lips twitched, not amusement.

Pity.

“Liar,” he said simply.

My fists clenched.

I took one step forward, shoulders tense, ready to reassert dominance with sheer

presence.

Nixon didn’t move.

He didn’t back up.

He didn’t even blink.

He stood there in my office like he belonged there, like the Alpha title didn’t scare him

anymore.

And maybe it didn’t.

Maybe not after what he’d watched me allow.

His voice sharpened just a fraction, enough to cut.

“You said we don’t seem comfortable around you, James,” Nixon said.

The words hit me because he was right, I had noticed. I had noticed the way my officers avoided my gaze. The way my most loyal men suddenly kept conversations short. The

way the room shifted when I entered.

Nixon kept going before I could speak.

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“None of us can,” he said. “Because if you could let them do that to Arya…”

His jaw flexed.

…then what about us, James?”

My throat tightened.

Nixon’s eyes stayed on mine, unflinching.

“What will happen to us when Marcel doesn’t feel comfortable with us occupying the

positions we occupy?” he asked. “When he suddenly has someone he feels will best suit

the position?”

The words landed like stones.

The room felt smaller.

Not because of walls.

Because of the truth pressing in from every side.

“Today it is Arya,” Nixon continued, voice low but cutting, “the woman you claimed to

love.”

I flinched, subtle, involuntary.

He saw it.

He didn’t stop.

“The one you tied your soul to,” Nixon said, and the contempt in his voice made my

stomach twist, “that has been sacrificed.”

My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Nixon stepped forward one pace. Not threatening. Just close enough to make the point

personal.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “who will it be?”

He didn’t wait for me.

“Me?” he demanded.

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My eyes narrowed.

“Devin?” he said.

A flicker of heat rose in my chest.

“Archie?” Nixon’s voice sharpened further.

I held his stare, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing uncertainty.

But the question didn’t need satisfaction.

It needed an answer.

And I couldn’t give one.

Because I couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen.

Not under Marcel Rainhorn.

Not with the Union looming.

Not with the deal tightening like a noose.

Nixon’s eyes were hard now.

“Who, James?” he pressed. “Because your ambition and fear has no limits.”

Silence dropped.

It was thick.

It was brutal.

My lips parted.

Nothing came out.

Because he was right that I couldn’t deny it.

Not cleanly.

Not convincingly.

Not after Arya.

My heart pounded once, hard.

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My wolf, Jasper, was silent.

That silence had been gnawing at me for days.

Jasper had not spoken since the day I locked Ria away.

Since the day I chose strategy over soul.

Since the day I cut Arya loose in front of the pack and told myself it was necessary.

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And now my Beta was standing in front of me, blood on his cheek from my own fist, and

even he was against me.

My throat tightened again, but this time the tightness wasn’t rage.

It was something humiliating.

Something hot behind my eyes.

I blinked once, hard.

Too late.

Tears gathered anyway, stupid, unwanted, treacherous.

I turned my head slightly, jaw clenched, and wiped at my face like the moisture was an

insult.

I wasn’t going to cry in front of Nixon.

Not after hitting him.

Not after everything.

My voice came out rough,

“I’m not against you,” I said,

It sounded weak the moment it left

my

mouth.

Nixon’s expression didn’t soften.

He didn’t come closer. He didn’t offer comfort.

He didn’t care.

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“That’s not what I said,” he replied. “I said you are becoming unsafe.”

The word slammed into me.

Unsafe.

Me.

The Alpha.

The one who built this pack.

The one who fought for it.

The one who bled for it.

Unsafe.

I forced my shoulders back, forced the Alpha posture into my bones like armour.

“You’re done,” I snapped. “Watch your,”

Nixon cut me off with a small shake of his head, like he was tired.

“Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”

My breath hitched.

He spoke again, voice low and unwavering.

“I’ve followed you for years, James,” he said. “I’ve watched you fight. I’ve watched you build. I’ve watched you make impossible choices.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But I’ve never watched you sacrifice someone like this,” he said. “Not someone who

carried you when you couldn’t carry yourself.”

The words were sharp.

My chest tightened.

I wanted to bark an order. I wanted to end the conversation, I wanted to throw him out and remind him who was Alpha.

But the office felt different now.

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Not because I’d lost authority.

Because I’d lost certainty.

I rubbed my jaw, breathing through my nose, trying to keep the rage from spilling again.

Then I said the one thing I could still cling to. The one line that made me feel like I

wasn’t completely lost.

“I still won’t mate with Leah,” I said, voice hard.

It was almost defiant.

Almost like a child insisting they still had control over something.

Nixon chuckled.

It wasn’t kind.

It was bitter.

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