Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 76

76 A Ride Through Ruin

Arya’s POV

The forest spat me out onto the shoulder of the highway like I didn’t belong anywhere

anymore.

My lungs burned, my legs ached, and my hands were still dirty from blood and earth, but

I didn’t slow. I kept moving until the trees were behind me and the road stretched out in

both directions like a choice I didn’t get to make.

Cars rushed by.

Lights cut across the night.

None of them stopped.

Of course they didn’t.

A lone woman on a dark highway with a bag made out of a bedsheet didn’t look like someone you picked up if you valued your life. And even if they didn’t see danger, they

would see something else, something worse.

A rogue.

Even if they couldn’t see the mark, they would smell the difference. Wolves always did.

I adjusted the sheet bundle over my shoulder and forced my feet forward. I kept my neckline high, kept my head down, and kept my expression blank.

The only thing that mattered now was distance.

Distance from Nightwind.

Distance from James.

Distance from the pack that had cheered while I bled.

I walked until my calves trembled, until the cold night air sliced at my skin, until my body started to feel like a heavy thing I was dragging behind me.

Then headlights slowed.

A car eased toward the shoulder, not speeding past like the others.

Menu

My entire body tightened.

My fingers curled around the corner of the sheet bundle, ready to swing if I had to. I wasn’t armed. I wasn’t at full strength. But I was still Arya.

The car stopped a few feet ahead.

A woman’s face appeared in the driver’s seat, framed by the window and the glow from her dashboard. She looked… normal.

Not an officer. Not a warrior. Not the kind of wolf that carried danger like perfume.

She leaned out slightly and called, “Hey!”

I didn’t move.

Not yet.

She frowned, then lifted a hand in a small, non-threatening wave.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I stayed where I was, watching.

Her car was clean, not battered. No pack crest visible, but wolves didn’t always

advertise. Her scent reached me faintly, carried by the breeze. Familiar, but not too

familiar. Pack-scented, yes, structured territory, routine, safety, but not Rainhorn.

Still, I didn’t trust it.

The woman seemed to understand the hesitation. She raised both hands briefly, palms

“I’m not trying to scare you,” she said. “It’s just… it’s late, and you’re out here alone.

That’s not safe.”

I almost laughed.

Not safe.

I had been chained in my own packhouse.

I had been flogged outside.

I had lost my baby.

“Safe” had become a joke word.

I took one step closer, slow, deliberate.

The woman’s gaze swept over me, my clothes, my sheet bundle, the way I held my

shoulders like I expected the world to attack.

Her mouth tightened with concern.

“Do you need a lift?” she asked.

I didn’t answer immediately.

Then I said, “Where are you going?”

She blinked, then replied quickly, “Home. Dragonclaw pack.”

The name hit my chest like a small shock.

Dragonclaw.

Maxwell’s pack.

My mind sharpened.

The woman continued, nervous now that she’d said it.

“My mate is waiting,” she added, like that would reassure me. “I’m not… I’m not some creep. I just, look, I can drop you somewhere closer to town if you don’t want to come all

the way.”

I watched her.

She looked genuinely worried, not curious. Not predatory.

My feet moved before my pride could stop them.

I walked to the passenger side and stopped, hand hovering near the door handle, still

not committing.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

The woman’s shoulders loosened slightly, like she was relieved I was speaking.

“Milley,” she said. “Milley Carter.”

I gave a slow nod.

She tried a small smile.

“And you?”

I held her gaze.

“Arya,” I said.

Milley’s smile flickered.

She didn’t recognise the name.

Good.

That meant rumours hadn’t reached her circle, or she wasn’t important enough to hear

them. Either way, it meant she was safer as a ride.

I opened the passenger door and slid in.

The warmth from the car heater hit my face, and my muscles threatened to collapse right

there, but I didn’t show it. I placed my sheet bundle on my lap and kept my hands on it.

Milley exhaled, then started the car again properly, pulling back onto the road.

For a few seconds we drove in silence.

She glanced at me once, then back at the road, then spoke carefully.

“You’re… you’re really far out,” she said. “Did your car break down?”

I didn’t answer.

Because if I started, the truth would come out fast, and I didn’t want to give a stranger

that much of my story yet.

Milley cleared her throat.

“Do you want some water?” she asked.

I shook my head.

She hesitated, then rummaged in her cup holder and brought out a small bottle.

“Not water,” she said quickly. “Booze.”

I turned my head slightly.

She held out a small bottle of alcohol, something strong, the kind that didn’t pretend to

be gentle.

“I keep it for… you know,” she said awkwardly. “Long drives. Emergencies. Or if my mate

annoys me.”

A faint, surprised sound almost escaped me.

Not laughter.

Just something close.

I took the bottle.

My fingers closed around it.

The cold glass felt real.

I twisted the cap off and took a swallow.

The burn hit my throat and slid down like fire.

My eyes stung.

I took another swallow.

Milley glanced at me again, then quietly turned the radio down further, as if she sensed I

didn’t want noise.

The alcohol didn’t soften my anger.

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