Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 7

Arya’s POV

James stared at me like I’d spoken a foreign language.

His face went blank first.

Then tight.

Then troubled.

“No,” he said, sharp. “You can’t be.”

I blinked, still shaking. “I… what?”

“You can’t,” he repeated, like he could erase it by refusing it. “Arya, that’s, no.”

I waited for anything else. A flicker of joy. A lie dressed as joy. Something.

Instead, he looked at my stomach like it was a bomb.

My throat tightened. “James… I’m telling you. Lesley confirmed it.”

His eyes snapped up. “Didn’t you take precautions?”

The question hit like a slap.

I recoiled. “What?”

“Didn’t you take them?” he demanded. “The contraceptives Lesley prepared? You’ve been taking them, haven’t you?”

My mouth fell open.

I stared at him, stunned into silence for a beat too long.

Then I whispered, “That’s your first question?”

James dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once, sharp footsteps, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

“This is the wrong time,” he said, voice low and furious, like my pregnancy had betrayed him personally. “Do you understand that?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s our child.”

“And if Marcel finds out,” he snapped, cutting me off, “he might end the alliance.”

The room went cold.

I stared at him. “That’s what you’re thinking about.”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Because I have to think about it. Because I have to think about the pack.”

My hands went to my belly again. Protective. Instinctive.

James saw it and flinched like the gesture annoyed him.

“We’re close,” he said, stepping toward me. “We’re few steps away from securing protection and you, ” He stopped, breathed once, forced his voice calmer. “You need to get rid of it.”

The world tilted.

I didn’t understand the words at first. Not fully.

“What did you say?”

His eyes were hard. “End it.”

I froze.

My blood turned to ice.

“You want me to, ” My voice cracked. “You want me to kill my baby.”

James’s face tightened with impatience.

“Don’t make it sound like that. It’s not even a baby yet, just a clump of cells”

“What! Are you crazy?!” My voice rose, broken. “What is the crime of my baby?”

He exhaled sharply. “Arya, ”

“Aren’t I your mate?” I demanded, tears spilling now, hot and unstoppable. “Aren’t I your wife? Aren’t we married?”

“Yes,” he snapped back, “and that is exactly why you’ll do this.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

He moved closer, voice low, controlling.

“You can’t keep it,” he said. “Not now. Not when we’re this close.”

I shook my head, trembling. “No.”

His jaw clenched. “You have to abort it.”

The word landed like a punch.

Abort.

His throat worked like he hated himself for saying it.

He reached for my face , not gentle, not cruel , just desperate.

“Arya… please. Don’t make me lose everything.”

I laughed, one sharp, cracked sound, because if I didn’t, I would scream.

“You want an abortion,” I whispered, wiping my face with shaking hands. “For the Union.”

James didn’t deny it. He stepped closer again, eyes flat.

“If Marcel walks away, we die. All of us. If that’s what it takes to keep our people alive,” he said, “yes.”

My chest heaved. “I would rather we end this.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’d rather we end this,” I repeated, voice shaking but firm, “and split the pack than abort my child.”

For a second, he looked genuinely shocked.

Then his face hardened into something colder than I’d ever seen on him.

He moved fast.

One step.

Two.

And suddenly I was backed into the wall, his body boxing me in, his hands braced on either side of me like a cage.

He held my hands pinned between us while I broke apart.

My sobs turned violent, ugly, humiliating.

He watched me like I was a storm he needed to contain.

Then he spoke, calm as a verdict.

“I’ll send Lesley tomorrow,” he said. “She’ll help you.”

My body went still.

Tomorrow.

He had already decided. Already scheduled it. Already turned my baby into an inconvenience to be handled like a wound to be cauterised.

“You’re going to force me,” I whispered.

His expression didn’t change.

“I’m going to save this pack,” he said. “And you’re going to be good and let this happen.”

Something inside me shattered completely.

I tried to pull away again, but he held me there, firm, unmovable, Alpha strength, Alpha certainty.

Not my mate.

Not my partner.

My warden.

I sagged against the wall, sobbing, hands trapped in his grip, stomach twisting with terror.

I knew then, he didn’t plan to let me go.

He didn’t plan to split the pack.

He didn’t plan to hand me my sweat, my labour, my years.

He planned to keep everything.

And keep me with it.

Because where would I go?

Who would take me?

A pregnant rogue was a target with a heartbeat.

A death sentence.

I stared at him through tears, my voice barely there.

“You know I have nowhere to go,” I whispered.

James didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

The silence told me he knew.

And he was using it.