Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 73

73 Empty Room, Burning Pack 3

James’s POV

My heart hammered so hard I thought it might split my ribs.

I hit the door,

And it was open.

Open.

Unlocked.

The room inside was dark and empty.

No Arya.

No bundle of clothes.

No sign of struggle in the immediate space.

Just emptiness.

The air inside felt stale, like it had been abandoned in a hurry.

I stepped in, chest heaving, eyes scanning wildly.

Bed.

Bare.

No one.

My throat tightened painfully.

“Arya?” I called, voice sharp.

Nothing.

I moved further in, scanning the corners like she could be hiding.

Nothing.

My pulse raced harder.

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Panic shot through me like a blade.

Because my mind immediately went to the worst.

Attackers had come.

They’d breached.

They’d found her.

They’d,

“No,” I whispered, voice cracking.

Then louder, harsher,

“No!”

I tried linking Nixon again, violently now, pushing the bond like a weapon.

It caught this time, barely.

A jolt.

Nixon’s presence slammed into my mind like a body hitting a wall.

He sounded exhausted.

Angry.

Alive.

James? Nixon’s voice snapped through the link. Where the hell are you?

Relief hit so hard it made my knees weak.

“Where are you?” I demanded aloud, even though he was in my head. “Get to the packhouse. Now,”

I’m coming, Nixon replied immediately. Stay there.

I turned in a circle, still scanning, still unable to accept the emptiness.

My eyes landed on the floor near the bed.

A faint mark.

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Redness.

Like something had been removed from a wrist, like someone had worked at metal

recently.

My breath hitched.

The silver bracelet.

My stomach twisted.

I had never removed it.

I had left her restrained.

I had left her unable to shift.

Unable to fight properly.

And I had left her alone in the chaos.

My hands began to shake again.

“Damn it,” I hissed.

Footsteps pounded outside.

Then Nixon burst into the doorway.

He was bloodied.

His clothes torn.

His eyes wolf-bright with aftermath.

Devin and Archie came behind him, equally battered, equally alive.

For a fraction of a second, seeing them standing there together eased something in my chest.

Then it tightened again because their faces were too grim.

Too prepared.

As if they already knew what I was about to ask.

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Nixon took one look at my face and said quickly, “The attack was sudden.”

I didn’t let him finish.

“What happened?” I demanded. “Who did this?”

Nixon’s jaw clenched.

“We don’t know yet,” he said, voice rough. “They came hard and fast. It was organised.”

Devin stepped forward.

“We were prepared enough to hold,” he said. “We took losses, but we held.”

Archie nodded once, breathing hard.

“We drove them back,” he added. “They didn’t wipe us out.”

Nixon lifted his

chin slightly.

“We captured two of

interrogation.”

m,” he said. “They’re in the dungeons. Waiting for

The word “captured” should have grounded me.

It should have given me something to focus on.

Instead, my mind latched onto one thing again.

Arya.

I swallowed hard.

“Where is Arya?” I asked, voice low, dangerous.

The room went still.

Not completely silent, there were still noises outside, cries and footsteps, but the three

men in front of me froze,

Nixon’s eyes flicked away for a second.

Devin’s jaw tightened.

Archie’s expression went flat.

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And in that second of silence, panic exploded in me.

My vision narrowed.

My heart raced so hard it hurt.

“She’s dead,” I breathed, and the words came out like a wounded sound. “She’s dead.”

“No,” Nixon said quickly.

I snapped my head up.

Nixon’s voice stayed firm but there was something… heavy in it.

“She’s not dead,” Nixon repeated.

My chest heaved.

“Then where is she?” I demanded. “Tell me where she is.”

Nixon hesitated, just a fraction.

Then he spoke.

“She found a way to remove the silver bracelet.”

My stomach dropped.

I stared at him.

“What?” I rasped.

Nixon’s eyes held mine.

“She removed it,” he said again. “Somehow. We don’t know how. But she did.”

My blood went cold.

The bracelet had been the leash.

The leash I had allowed.

The leash that kept her contained.

If she removed it,

Then she could shift.

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Then she could fight.

Then she could run.

My voice came out sharper.

“Did someone help her?”

Nixon didn’t answer that directly.

He continued, like he was forcing himself through it.

“She helped us fight,” Nixon said.

I blinked hard.

“She,” My throat tightened. “She fought?”

Devin nodded.

“She fought,” Devin confirmed.

Archie added, voice rough, “She came in like she was born for it.”

A bitter twist hit my mouth.

Of course she did.

Arya always fought.

Arya always bled.

Even after everything.

Even after I broke her.

Even after the pack spat on her.

She still fought.

And I hadn’t been there,

My hands trembled harder.

“And then?” I forced out.

Nixon’s face didn’t soften.

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“And then she left,” he said.

The words struck like a hammer.

I staggered back a step without meaning to.

“No,” I whispered.

Nixon didn’t flinch.

“She left,” he repeated, calm but firm. “She’s gone.”

My world tilted.

The room blurred for a second.

My ears rang.

I felt something crack inside my chest.

Not a metaphor.

A real sensation, like my ribs had split and something vital had spilled out.

“She, she can’t,” I choked.

Nixon’s gaze stayed steady.

“James,” he said, voice low. “She left.”

My heart raced violently.

I felt my pulse in my throat.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably.

My wolf, Jasper, began howling in my head.

Not a gentle sound.

Not sadness,

Rage.

Pain.

A furious, frantic howl like he was slamming his body against the walls of my skull.

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SHE’S GONE. Jasper roared. SHE’S GONE. FIND HER.

I couldn’t breathe properly.

I looked at Nixon like he could fix it.

Like he could say it wasn’t true.

Like he could say she was hiding in another room.

“She didn’t take a vehicle?” I demanded suddenly, desperate.

Nixon shook his head.

“No,” he said. “She went on foot.”

I spun toward the door immediately.

“She can’t have gotten far,” I snapped. “Not injured, ”

Nixon stepped into my path slightly.

“James,” he said sharply. “It’s pointless.”

I didn’t hear him.

“Which direction?” I demanded.

Nixon’s jaw clenched.

He pointed.

“There,” he said. “Toward the woods.”

My body moved.

I shoved past him, nearly knocking him aside.

Nixon grabbed my arm.

“James,” he warned. “She left a long time ago. You won’t catch her.”

I ripped my arm free.

“I don’t care,” I snarled.

Because reasoning had left me.

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Logic had left me.

All I had was the image of her empty room and the knowledge that she was out there,

alone, injured, furious, and done with me.

I ran.

Out of the room.

Down the corridor.

Out of the packhouse.

Into the yard still reeking of death.

People stared as

passed, some with anger, some with despair, some with accusations

in their eyes.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t speak.

I hit the edge of the yard and went straight toward the direction Nixon pointed.

Toward the woods.

My breath tore out of my chest.

My heart pounded.

Jasper was screaming in my head now.

WE WERE PLAYED, Jasper snarled. WE WERE FOOLS.

And he was right.

Because now I saw it.

Now I understood.

This wasn’t just an attack.

This was timing.

This was strategy.

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This was someone pulling me away while they struck my home.

Someone making sure I wasn’t here.

Someone making sure my pack bled while I ate at a party.

Someone making sure Arya had the perfect opening to escape.

Someone making sure I’d lose her completely.

My mind snapped back to the calls.

Marcel calling me.

Leah calling me.

Over and over.

Trying to pull my attention back.

Trying to keep me away.

Trying to delay me until the damage was done.

My stomach turned violently.

I stepped onto the path into the woods and forced myself to breathe through my nose.

Scent.

I needed scent.

I needed a trail.

My senses sharpened with panic.

Smoke.

Blood.

Dirt.

Too much noise.

Too many bodies.

Too many scents layered over each other from the attack.

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It was hard to isolate one.

But I pushed.

I pushed harder.

And under it, faint,

Her.

Arya.

That clean, furious scent that had been home to my wolf for years.

It was there, but fading.

Fading because she’d moved fast.

Fading because time had passed.

Fading because she’d disappeared into the woods while I was gone.

My throat tightened painfully.

“Arya,” I rasped, voice breaking.

Jasper howled again.

RUN. he roared.

And I ran.

I ran like my lungs would explode.

I ran like the trees were trying to stop me.

I ran like the world had narrowed to one trail and one woman and one terrible truth.

We had been played.

We had been foolish.

And we were the biggest loser.

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