Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 60

60 A New Alpha, A New Noose

James’s POV

Blackbirth looked like power.

Not the kind you built slowly with loyalty and sweat.

The kind you inherited, guarded, polished, and displayed.

The kind that made lesser packs keep their voices low and their heads bowed the moment they crossed the boundary.

Leah walked beside me like she was already practising what it meant to belong here.

Her steps were measured. Her chin was lifted. Her bruised face had been cleaned and dressed, the swelling masked as much as it could be with careful work. But you couldn’t hide a broken nose from anyone with eyes. It still sat slightly crooked, a stubborn reminder that Arya’s rage had reached her.

Leah’s neck was bare too.

Bare enough to draw stares.

Bare enough to invite questions.

Bare enough to make every greeting feel like an inspection.

And I felt it the moment we entered the grounds, eyes flicking to Leah’s throat, then to mine, then away again like people didn’t want to be caught staring.

They were staring anyway.

Because in a room full of Alphas, claims were currency.

Marks were law.

And a Luna with a bare neck was either unclaimed… or unwanted… or waiting.

Or worse, pretending.

We were escorted through the entrance with the usual formalities. Names announced.

Titles spoken. Deference offered like ritual.

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This wasn’t my pack. These weren’t my people.

No one here cared about what I’d built.

They cared about what I could offer.

What I could be used for.

What Marcel Rainhorn could squeeze out of me through the Union.

Alpha Mark was the host of this gathering, his men wore his crest, his banners hung

where they wanted everyone to see them, his guards controlled the flow of guests.

But Marcel was waiting close to the entrance, positioned where he could intercept, steer,

and remind everyone exactly whose hand was on my leash.

The moment Marcel saw us, his eyes sharpened.

Not at me first.

At Leah.

At her face.

At her nose.

Then at her neck.

Bare.

His disappointment was immediate, and he didn’t bother hiding it. Marcel had never

been subtle when it came to control. He believed politeness was something you used on

equals. Not on tools.

He stepped forward, his expression smoothing into something that looked like warmth

from a distance and like calculation from up close.

“James,” he greeted, then turned his gaze fully to Leah. “Daughter.”

Leah smiled quickly, too quickly, as if she wanted to prove she was fine.

Marcel didn’t mirror the smile.

His eyes dropped again to her throat.

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“And why,” Marcel asked, voice calm and dangerous, “is your neck still bare?”

Leah’s smile stiffened.

I answered before she could.

“Out of respect for the dead,” I said.

Marcel’s eyes flicked to me.

I held his stare.

“I lost my child too,” I added, letting the words sit like a boundary. “It would be… inappropriate.”

For a heartbeat, Marcel looked like he wanted to push. Like he wanted to ask which child. with the kind of cruel precision only he could manage.

But he didn’t.

Not here.

Not in front of other Alphas.

Not when he needed to look dignified, not desperate.

Marcel’s mouth tightened for half a second, then he gave a single nod.

“A noble sentiment,” he said smoothly. “We will not be insensitive.”

Leah exhaled quietly, relieved.

I didn’t relax.

Marcel stepped aside and motioned us forward.

“Alpha Mark has done well,” Marcel said, gesturing toward the crowd. “The gathering is impressive. Many faces you should know. Many you should be seen with.”

Leah brightened slightly, eager.

I kept my expression neutral.

Marcel began to guide us into the space where the Alphas were congregated, where

power gathered in clusters, where laughter was measured and conversation was always

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<60 A New Alpha, A New Noose.

a negotiation dressed up as small talk.

Get 5.>

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As we moved, I caught fragments, names, pack territories, rumours, Union politics.

Some Alphas nodded to Marcel with respect.

Some with caution.

Some with resentment.

Others watched me with a particular kind of curiosity, the kind you gave a man who had

done something scandalous but profitable.

A man who had discarded his Luna publicly.

A man who had brought a new Luna beside him with an unmarked neck.

A man walking into a viper’s nest holding Marcel Rainhorn’s hand like a child.

Marcel stopped at the first group of Alphas and began introductions.

“Alpha Dorian of Eastcairn,” he said, smiling. “A man of strong discipline.”

The Alpha offered his hand.

I shook it.

His grip was firm. His smile wasn’t.

“James Nightwind,” Marcel continued, voice rich. “A rising force. A pack blessed with

mineral wealth and strategic land.”

The Alpha’s brows lifted just slightly.

“Ah,” he said. “The gold.”

I kept my face unreadable.

Then Marcel turned to another,

“Alpha Selwyn of Redmarsh,” he said. “A keen mind. A loyal Union supporter,”

Another handshake. Another measured look. Another silent appraisal.

Then another.

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Then another.

My name was repeated with variations, resource-rich, strategically located, Marcel’s ally, new blood, ambitious.

Not once did anyone say brave.

Not once did anyone say honourable.

Not once did anyone say the man who built something from nothing with a fierce Luna at

his side.

Because that story had already been rewritten.

And the author standing beside me was Marcel Rainhorn.

We moved deeper into the gathering, Marcel still talking, still introducing, still shaping perception like clay.

Leah stayed close, trying to appear serene, trying to appear like she belonged here.

But I could feel her tension every time someone’s gaze dipped to her neck.

I could feel her defensiveness every time someone’s eyes lingered on her bruised face.

Marcel’s hand landed lightly on Leah’s shoulder once, a gesture that looked protective to

anyone watching and felt like a warning to anyone who understood him.

Then Marcel’s voice shifted slightly.

“A familiar face,” he said.

I followed the line of his gaze.

My stomach tightened.

Maxwell,

Alpha Maxwell,

He stood a few steps away, shoulders squared, expression hard, surrounded by a small

cluster of men who looked like they were listening to him. His presence was… steady.

Heavy. The kind of Alpha who didn’t need to posture because his authority didn’t come

from theatrics.

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When Maxwell saw me, he didn’t offer a polite nod.

He offered disdain.

Pure.

Undiluted.

As if I was something he had stepped in and couldn’t scrape off his boot.

He moved toward us with purpose.

The men around him quieted immediately, sensing the shift.

Marcel’s smile tightened.

Leah stiffened.

I felt heat rise behind my ribs, not because I wanted a confrontation, but because I knew

Maxwell wouldn’t keep it private.

He wanted witnesses.

He wanted the room to hear it.

He stopped directly in front of me.

Then he spoke loud enough that the conversation around us thinned, then stilled.

“So you actually pushed Arya aside,” Maxwell said, voice sharp and clear, “the woman

that fought with you.”

A few heads turned.

More than a few.

The words landed like a slap across the room.

I held Maxwell’s gaze, jaw tight.

Maxwell didn’t stop,

“A disloyal Alpha,” he said, enunciating each word like a sentence being read aloud.

“You dumped your Luna for a seat on the Union.”

A low murmur rippled through the cluster of nearby Alphas.

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Some faces hardened.

Some looked intrigued.

Some looked amused, like scandal was entertainment.

Maxwell’s eyes stayed on mine, unblinking.

“You cannot be trusted,” he continued. “As long as the price is right, you will betray a friend.”

My gut clenched.

Not because the words were completely false.

Because they were too close.

Because they were what people already suspected.

And Maxwell was handing them permission to believe it.

I saw Marcel’s expression shift, controlled irritation.

I saw Leah’s lips part, her eyes flashing with fury.

Maxwell lifted his chin slightly.

“I will personally oppose you being accepted by Radimir,” he said, voice rising just

enough to cut clean through the air.

A few Alphas exchanged looks at the name.

Radimir.

The Union head.

The gatekeeper.

ES 12:33

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