Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 94

94 Not a Rogue Under His Roof 2

Arya’s PCV

Milley fidgeted with her hands, then blurted out another question before she could stop herself

“Did you always know him?” she asked. “Alpha Maxwell, I mean.

My jaw tightened.

“No.” I said.

Milley blinked.

“So how, ?”

“I fought alongside him,” I said, cutting the curiosity off before it got too deep.

Milley nodded quickly, eyes shining.

“And he just… adopted you,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I said again.

Milley sat back, looking dazed.

“I don’t even know what to say,” she murmured.

“Then don’t say anything,” I replied.

Milley laughed softly, then nodded.

“Right,” she said. “Right. Sorry.”

She tried to shift the conversation back to lighter topics.

She spoke about the market. About how Dragonclaw women were organising a donation for those

wounded in border patrols. About how the children had been restless lately. About the upcoming ceremonies that had been postponed because of lack of organisers.

I listened.

I nodded.

I kept my face composed.

But inside, my mind wasn’t following her stories.

1.16.57

19 32%

444 Not a Roque Under this Reef 2

It kept spiralling back to the truth Maxwell had told me, the truth about the Union

No council officers visit packs for signing

Five years minimum.

Head office verification.

Which meant the “officers” at Nightwind had been part of a lie.

A catalyst.

A setup.

A spark designed to ignite exactly what ignited.

Leah drinking poison.

Leah pinning it on me.

The pack turning.

James panicking.

Marcel’s demands tightening.

My baby dying.

My bond severed.

My rogue mark branded.

The women who lied against me, Lisa and Margaret, women I’d sheltered and fed.

The memory of them still made my throat tighten with rage.

Milley asked something, and I realised I hadn’t heard.

“What?” I said sharply.

Milley blinked, startled.

“I asked if you’re sleeping well,” she repeated, careful now.

I stared at her.

Then I forced my voice flat.

19 34%

24 Not a Rogue Under His Roof T

“I sleep,” I said.

Milley nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

Then she looked at me, quickly getting up. It seemed she noticed my countenance and didn’t want to

pry

“I’ll come again,” she promised.

I nodded once.

“Fine,” I said.

Milley stood, smoothing her dress, then hesitated and stepped forward.

“Can I hug you?” she asked suddenly.

The question was so innocent it almost made my anger look ridiculous.

I didn’t want to be hugged.

Not because I hated human contact.

Because hugs felt like trust, and trust still felt like a trap.

Still, Milley had helped me.

Milley had worried about me.

Milley hadn’t betrayed me.

So I gave her a small nod.

Milley hugged me quickly, awkward, careful.

“I’m rooting for you,” she whispered.

She pulled back immediately, eyes bright with sincerity.

Then she turned and hurried out, waving once with the kind of enthusiasm that made her seem

younger than she was.

The door shut.

The room went quiet.

11657

19.36%

Roque Poder Hes Food &

And quiet did what it always did

It brought the real thoughts back like wolves returning to a kill.

I stood still for a moment, then turned and walked back to my room.

Not slowly.

Not wandering.

Purposeful.

Because once I was alone, I didn’t have to pretend I could be normal.

I shut the door and leaned my forehead briefly against it.

My chest felt tight.

Not from fear.

From the constant pressure of rage held in place.

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

Then I stared at the wall.

And the list rose in my mind like it always did.

Marcel Rainhorn.

At the top.

Not Leah.

Not James.

Marcel

Because Marcel was the one who walked into our pack and saw my life like an obstacle to remove.

Marcel was the one who saw James’s ambition and used it like a leash.

Marcel was the one who understood that if Leah’s belly was a problem, he would solve it.

If I was a problem, he would solve it.

He solved both.

16,53

14 18%

<94 Not a Roque Under His Troof

And my mate, my stupid mate, helped him.

I swallowed hard

Tears came

Not loud.

Silent, hot streaks that slid down my face before I could stop them.

My hand moved automatically to my abdomen.

Empty.

The grief hit sharp.

I clenched my jaw.

“I will grant you justice,” I whispered, voice low. “I swear it.”

The vow steadied me for a second.

Then the grief hit again.

I had been carrying life.

I had been carrying a future.

And they beat it out of me.

They stole it.

They laughed while they stole it.

My breath hitched.

Tears fell harder.

I wiped them roughly, angry at myself for crying again.

Because James wasn’t worth tears.

Marcel wasn’t worth tears.

Leah wasn’t worth tears.

But my child was.

1654

18.4%

Nesque Ulinder Us Root >

My baby was

And I would cry for my baby if I wanted to.

A knock cut through the room.

Sharp

Controlled

Alpha knock.

Maxwell.

I jerked upright.

My fingers wiped at my cheeks quickly.

I forced my breathing steady.

I didn’t want him walking in and seeing me broken again.

I didn’t want pity.

I didn’t want softness.

So I moved fast, opened the door, and stood straight.

Maxwell stepped in.

He looked at me once.

Then his eyes narrowed.

He didn’t need tears to know.

He could smell it.

He could read the tightness in my jaw, the dampness near my lashes, the way my shoulders held

tension like armour.

“You’ve been crying,” he said flatly.

I didn’t deny it.

Maxwell shut the door behind him and faced me.

“Let it go,” he said.

16.58

<94 Not a Rogue Finder His Roof 2

The words hit wrong immediately

My jaw clenched

Maxwell continued, voice steady, not cruel but firm.

“Live a good life,” he said. “That’s the best thing you can do for yourself and for your child. Move on Be happy.”

I shook my head once.

“No,” I said.

Maxwell’s eyes sharpened.

“Arya,” he warned.

I stepped forward slightly, refusing to be intimidated by tone.

“I can’t forgive the scheme the Rainhorns pulled,” I said. “I can’t forgive the fact that James allowed them to do this to me.”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened.

My voice hardened.

“My soul will not rest,” I said, “if I don’t get justice for my child.”

Maxwell stared at me for a long beat.

Then he asked, voice low, sharp, designed to cut through rage.

“If you kill them,” he said, “will that bring back your unborn baby?”

My throat tightened.

I swallowed.

“No,” I admitted.

Then I lifted my chin, eyes cold.

“But they will not be breathing either.”

The words sat heavy.

Maxwell exhaled slowly, like he was trying to keep his own anger in check.

47663

19 155

Not a Route Under this Roof?

Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t awkward.

It was fatherly

Solid