Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 90

90 The Dungeon Remembers 2

James’s POV

The guard grabbed his shoulders, pinning him.

I stepped closer again.

“Name,” I said.

He swallowed, breathing hard.

“Doesn’t matter,” he rasped.

I grabbed his injured thigh and pressed hard into the wound.

He screamed again, voice cracking.

“Name,” I said, louder.

His eyes rolled, face contorting.

“I’ll,” he choked. “I’ll talk!”

I released pressure slightly, enough for him to breathe.

“Your name,” I said again, calm as ice.

His lips trembled.

“Donald,” he gasped. “Donald.”

I stared at him.

Not a name with weight.

Not a man with power

Just a tool

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Donald’s voice shook as he spoke again, words tumbling out now that fear had taken hold

“I’ll answer,” he blurted. “Anything, just, spare me.”

I leaned in.

“You want to live,” I said

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< 90 The Dungeon Remembers 2

He nodded fast, eyes wild.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Then speak clearly,” I said. “Who sent you?”

Donald’s throat bobbed.

He looked like he wanted to lie.

His eyes flicked away, searching for an escape.

Then Jasper surged inside me, a pulse of dominance that filled the room like pressure.

Donald shuddered.

His pupils dilated.

His scent shifted, fear spiking sharp.

He swallowed hard.

“It was Alpha Boris,” he said quickly.

I went still.

“What?” I asked.

Donald flinched at my tone.

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“Alpha Boris,” he repeated, voice shaking. “Northwood pack. Northern cold terrains. He sent us

The words hit the air and hung there.

Northwood

Alpha Boris

My grip tightened on the knife.

Across the dungeon, I heard the blond prisoner sobbing as Nixon worked him over But my focus didn’t

move

Northwood.

A pack in the northern cold terrains.

Not close

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Not allied.

Not in my immediate circle.

Not someone who had ever spoken to me directly.

I stared at Donald.

“Why?” I asked.

Donald’s breathing hitched.

“I don’t know,” he stammered. “We were paid. We were told,”

“Why would Boris want my territory?” I snapped.

Donald flinched hard.

He shook his head fast.

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“I don’t know,” he insisted. “I swear, I swear, Alpha, I don’t know. They told us the land was rich. That

you were weak. That you wouldn’t be there. That your people would fold.”

My chest tightened.

“That I wouldn’t be there,” I repeated.

Donald nodded frantically.

“Yes, yes. They said you’d be away. That it would be easy.”

My stomach turned.

Because that detail was too sharp.

Too convenient

Too perfectly aligned with the fact that Marcel had dragged me out of my pack and kept me distracted

while my borders burned.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice

“Who told you I wouldn’t be there?” I asked

Donald’s eyes darted, panicked

“I don’t know the name,” he blurted “A messenger. A wolf from,

<90 The Dungeon Remembers 2

“From where?” I demanded

Donald swallowed, sweat dripping down his temple.

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“I don’t know,” he repeated desperately. “He smelled southern. Not like us. He wasn’t Northwood. He wasn’t one of ours. He just… carried orders.”

My jaw clenched.

“Describe him,” I ordered.

Donald’s eyes squeezed shut as if he was pulling memory from pain.

“Tall,” he said. “Scar on his cheek. Dark hair. Wore a cloak. Didn’t speak much. Just delivered instructions and payment.”

That description could fit too many wolves.

Not enough.

I grabbed Donald’s chin roughly, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Look at me,” I said. “You’re going to tell me everything you know, or you will bleed until you can’t speak at all.”

Donald nodded, choking.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you.”

I released his chin and stepped back half a pace.

“Start at the beginning,” I ordered. “When did Boris contact you?”

Donald swallowed hard, breath trembling.

“Two nights ago,” he said quickly. “In Northwood territory. We were summoned. Boris’s men said there was work. Big work”

He licked his split lip, wincing.

“They said the target was a southern pack,” he continued “Rich territory. Gold Minerals. That if we hit hard and fast, the Alpha would lose control. People would scatter. The land would be vulnerable. They said, ”

He hesitated, eyes flicking to my face like he was afraid of how I’d react

“They said the Union would be forced to step in,” he finished.

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< 90 The Dungeon Remembers 2

My stomach dropped slightly.

The Union.

Why would a northern Alpha care about forcing the Union to step in?

Unless,

Unless the goal wasn’t just land.

Unless the goal was to destabilise my pack enough that the Union would refuse me.

Unless the goal was to keep me vulnerable.

Keep me desperate.

Keep me under someone’s thumb.

I inhaled slowly through my nose.

“Continue,” I commanded.

Donald’s voice rushed.

“They gave us routes,” he said. “Timing. Patrol shifts. Where the warriors usually gather. They told us the Beta would fight, the officers would fight, but if we tore through civilians first, the morale would break.”

He swallowed, voice shaking with fear.

“They wanted panic,” he said. “They wanted the pack to turn on itself.”

My hands tightened.

I could see it.

I could see the intention.

Kill enough

Burn enough

Leave enough grief behind that the pack would start accusing each other

That they’d demand protection

That they’d cling to anyone promising safety

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That they’d accept any leash offered.

I stared at Donald.

“And Boris ordered this,” I said slowly.

Donald nodded hard.

“Yes,” he insisted. “It was his order.”

I studied him.

My senses told me he believed what he was saying.

He wasn’t lying out of desperation.

He was terrified, yes, but the truth in his fear felt real.

And that was the problem.

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Because even if it was true, even if Boris had sent them, there was something wrong.

A disconnect.

Northwood was far.

Northwood didn’t benefit directly from my collapse unless they planned to move south, which would

be war, expensive, risky, messy.

Alpha Boris wasn’t known for foolish expansion.

At least not in any stories I’d heard.

So why would he strike now?

And why would he have such precise information about my absence?

My mind snapped to Marcel again.

To the get-together

To the way he’d controlled my movements

To the way he’d kept me away

To the way he’d called repeatedly, then stopped

To the way his face had looked, too shocked, too concerned, when he arrived back at my pack and

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saw the carnage.

I stared at Donald, knife still in my hand, blood dripping slowly from its edge.

Gel 2A6

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“Alpha,” Donald whispered, voice trembling. “Please. Please. I told you. I told you everything. Please,

don’t kill me

I didn’t respond.

Across the dungeon, Nixon’s voice cut through, sharp, demanding.

“Who sent you?” he snarled.

The blond prisoner sobbed harder.

Donald flinched, hearing it.

I kept my eyes on Donald.

“Donald,” I said quietly.

He looked at me, desperate.

“Yes?”

“If I find out you lied,” I said, voice cold, “I will hunt you down myself. Do you understand?”

Donald nodded so hard his chains rattled.

“Yes. Yes, Alpha. I swear. I swear it’s Boris. Alpha Boris of Northwood.”

1 held his gaze for a long beat.

My instincts didn’t scream lie.

They didn’t.

And that was what made my gut twist.

Because if Donald was telling the truth, then why did it still feel wrong?

Why did the pieces not fit cleanly?

Why did my senses confirm truth while my mind detected manipulation?

There was a disconnect somewhere

And it was sitting just out of reach, like a shadow behind the story that Donald couldn’t see, but I could

< 90 The Dungeon Remembers 2

feel

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