Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 80

80 Lies in My Office, Ash on My Hands

James’s POV

The room still smelled like her.

Not perfume.

Not softness.

Arya.

A sharp, stubborn scent that clung to the air like it refused to leave, like it refused to let me pretend this space hadn’t been her cage.

I was still sitting there when the door shifted again.

Not quietly.

Not gently.

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A knock, short, firm, then the door openece

Nixon stepped in.

He didn’t look like a Beta coming to report.

He looked like a man walking into a den with a wounded wolf inside.

His shirt was torn, blood was dry on his forearms, and his eyes were hard. He scanned the room once and landed on me, then stopped.

He didn’t speak immediately.

Because he didn’t need to.

My face was enough.

My posture.

My hands.

The fact that I was still in this small room instead of my office, issuing orders, dealing with the aftermath like an Alpha was supposed to.

12:41

<80 Lies In My Office, Ash on My Hands.

Nixon’s jaw tightened.

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“Marcel is back,” he said finally. “With Leah.”

The words should have meant nothing.

But they hit something in me anyway.

I lifted my head slowly.

Nixon continued, voice clipped.

“He saw the massacre. He’s… in shock.”

I let out a low sound, almost a laugh, but it had no humour in it.

“In shock,” I repeated.

Nixon’s gaze sharpened.

“You don’t believe it,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

Because if I opened my mouth, something ugly might come out.

Nixon stepped further into the room, boots quiet on the floor, and for a second, his eyes

flicked around, bed, walls, emptiness.

Then his attention returned to me.

He studied me like he was assessing whether I was about to collapse or explode.

“James,” he said, voice low, “you need to pull yourself together.”

I stared at the floor.

My throat burned.

Jasper was restless inside my skull, pacing, snarling, wounded and furious.

FIND HER.

I clenched my teeth.

Nixon exhaled hard.

12:41

<80 Lies in My Office, Ash on My Hands

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“Listen,” he said. “Marcel’s downstairs. Leah too. They want answers.”

My hands curled slowly into fists.

Nixon didn’t wait for me to respond.

He continued, voice harder now.

“You will have to let her go.”

My head snapped up.

“What?” I rasped.

Nixon didn’t flinch.

“You heard me,” he said. “You will have to let Arya go. There’s no fixing this. Not this level of damage.”

Something hot flared in my chest.

Anger.

Pain.

Panic.

“No,” I said immediately, voice sharp. “No. I’m not,”

Nixon cut me off with a single look.

“James,” he said coldly, “you locked her in this room. You let them drag her. You let them beat her. You severed your claim. Her baby died. Your baby died. You stood there and let your pack cheer while she bled.”

I swallowed hard.

Nixon’s voice didn’t soften.

“You don’t patch that with an apology,” he continued. “You don’t fix that by bringing her food and acting like you still have rights over her,”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

I wanted to tell him I was deceived.

12:41

I wanted to tell him I suspected Marcel.

I wanted to tell him I had been played like a fool while my pack burned.

But shame stopped the words.

Shame and something uglier, the part of me that still wanted to believe Marcel hadn’t used me.

Because if Marcel had,

If Nixon was right and Marcel had orchestrated this entire mess,

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