Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 61

61 A New Alpha, A New Noose 2

James’s POV

Maxwell’s tone turned colder.

“You may join the Union,” Maxwell said, “because you are now Marcel’s lap dog, ”

Leah flinched.

Marcel’s jaw clenched.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

“, but that is about how far you will go,” Maxwell finished. “James Nightwind.”

My chest burned.

Embarrassment hit fast, vicious and humiliating. Not because I cared about Maxwell’s opinion alone, because he was saying it in front of everyone who mattered.

And I knew he had already smeared my name before I arrived. The looks. The whispers. The way some Alphas greeted me like I was already compromised.

Maxwell had been working.

Marcel’s smile was still on his face, but it was thinner now.

“Maxwell,” Marcel said smoothly, voice polite, “this is hardly the place,”

Maxwell turned his head slowly, eyes landing on Marcel like a blade finding flesh.

“Oh, it’s the perfect place,” Maxwell cut in, louder.

He stepped slightly to the side, ensuring his voice carried.

“Because this is where men like you operate,” Maxwell said. “In gatherings. In circles. In

polished rooms where you pretend you’re civil while you destroy lives.”

Marcel’s expression remained composed.

But his eyes sharpened.

Maxwell didn’t care.

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He pivoted fully toward Marcel.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Maxwell said, voice hard, “bullying a woman.”

More murmurs.

More attention.

Some Alphas leaned in subtly, sensing blood.

Maxwell’s tone turned scathing.

“You stole everything from that woman because she had no parents,” Maxwell said. “An orphan.”

My stomach twisted.

The word carried weight in a room built on lineage.

Maxwell continued, merciless.

“You were finally able to get a fool to mate with your promiscuous daughter,” Maxwell said, his voice dripping with contempt. “What a disgrace. What a joke.”

The room reacted instantly.

Some faces tightened with disapproval, at Maxwell’s bluntness, at the insult, at the public disrespect.

Others looked entertained.

A few looked thoughtful, like Maxwell was confirming what they had suspected but

wouldn’t say aloud.

Leah made a strangled sound, fury flaring.

Marcel’s eyes went cold.

But Maxwell wasn’t finished.

He turned to Leah.

His gaze swept her bare neck deliberately.

Then he smiled, humourless.

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“How does it feel,” Maxwell asked her, voice sharp, “claiming to be the Luna of a man claimed by another woman with your bare neck?”

Leah’s face flushed.

Her mouth opened.

Her hands clenched.

She was about to answer, about to say something reckless, something bitter, something that would expose more than she realised.

I stepped in immediately.

My hand snapped out, not touching her, but enough to block her movement.

“Leah,” I said low, warning.

She bristled.

Maxwell’s eyes flicked to me, knowing exactly why I stopped her.

Because the last thing I wanted was Maxwell knowing I had cancelled the claim on Arya.

The last thing I wanted was anyone here knowing I had severed that bond publicly.

I regretted that action now with a bitterness that made my teeth ache.

Back then, I had thought it would be easy.

The dust would settle.

Arya would forgive me.

I would reclaim her.

We would return to what we were, even if it took time.

But Arya’s eyes had told me the truth.

It wouldn’t be simple,

It might not be possible.

And standing here now, with Maxwell tearing into us in front of the very people whose

approval I needed, I felt that truth tighten around my throat.

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Leah’s lips trembled with rage.

She swallowed the words she wanted to spit.

Maxwell’s expression sharpened with satisfaction.

He leaned slightly closer, still loud enough for those nearby to hear.

“Silent?” he asked. “Good. Silence suits thieves.”

Marcel’s voice cut in again, polished, controlled.

“Maxwell,” Marcel said, smiling as if he wasn’t furious, “you speak like a man still nursing grudges from old conflicts.”

Maxwell laughed once, cold.

“Grudges?” he repeated. “No. I speak like a man who knows the difference between leadership and cowardice.”

My jaw clenched.

Maxwell’s eyes returned to me.

“You think you can buy your way into the Union,” he said, voice hard, “and still keep your hands clean?”

I didn’t answer.

If I spoke, it would become a fight.

A public spectacle.

And Marcel would spin it.

Maxwell would spin it.

Everyone would spin it.

Better to let Maxwell expend himself.

Better to keep the little control I had.

Maxwell’s lip curled.

“You’re not an Alpha I would stand beside,” he said. “Not anymore.”

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The words landed.

And as if the gathering itself sensed the tension cresting, another shift rippled through

the room.

Heads turned.

Voices dropped.

A path opened in the crowd like instinct.

Someone important had arrived.

I felt it before I saw it, the way even confident Alphas straightened, the way the air thickened with attention.

Then Lev stepped into view.

Lev Nikolaev.

The moment he appeared, the noise of the gathering softened. Conversations paused. People moved with the subtle urgency of respect. Even men who didn’t bow outright gave him space, gave him acknowledgement.

Lev was not smiling.

Not broadly.

Not performatively.

His presence was quiet power, the kind that didn’t need volume.

A few Alphas stepped forward to greet him.

Others nodded from where they stood.

And for a heartbeat, I felt a flicker of relief.

Radimir.

Where was Radimir?

Marcel had told me Radimir might be in attendance.

Marcel had dangled that possibility like bait.

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But as Lev moved, it became clear.

It wasn’t Radimir here.

It was Lev.

My stomach tightened.

Because if Lev was the one here, then the evening just got harder.

Because Lev wasn’t Marcel’s man.

And Lev… Lev had looked at Arya with a kind of still attention that had unsettled me before.

Lev moved toward the centre of the gathering, and the host, Alpha Mark, stepped forward to meet him.

Mark’s posture was proud, formal, the kind of Alpha who enjoyed the role of host, enjoyed being watched, enjoyed orchestrating.

Mark lifted his hands slightly, calling for attention.

The murmurs faded.

The room’s focus snapped toward him and Lev.

Mark’s voice carried.

“Honoured Alphas,” Mark announced. “Tonight, we are privileged.”

People leaned in.

Mark gestured toward Lev with clear respect.

“I introduce to you,” Mark said, “the new Alpha of Blackbirth.”

A pause.

A swell of reaction.

Cheers began, some genuine, some strategic, some loud enough to be noticed.

Mark held up a hand to quiet them, then continued, voice ringing.

“And the head of the Alpha Union,” Mark added.

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The cheers rose louder.

My stomach dropped.

Head of the Alpha Union.

Lev.

Mark’s next words landed like a hammer.

“Radimir Nikolaev has taken a sabbatical,” Mark announced, “and his nephew will be the one in charge until he returns.”

More cheers.

More applause.

More murmurs.

Some faces lit with approval. Some with curiosity. Some with calculation.

I didn’t cheer.

I couldn’t.

My jaw locked.

Because if Lev was head of the Union now, even temporarily, then Maxwell’s promise to oppose me carried weight in a new way.

And because Lev was not someone I could easily manipulate with Marcel’s pressure.

Marcel’s gaze flicked toward me, subtle, assessing.

Leah stood stiff beside me, trying to look proud, trying to look like this change didn’t

threaten her.

Maxwell’s mouth curved slightly, like he was pleased by the development.

I stared at Lev as the gathering roared around him.

Lev’s expression remained composed, but his eyes moved through the crowd with calm

authority, seeing, weighing, remembering.

And I knew, with cold clarity, that my path just narrowed.

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If Lev was the one here, I was sure to have a tough time.

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