Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97 The Room, The Lie, The Deal

James’s POV

I spent the night in the room I had locked Arya away in.

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Not because I had nowhere else to go. Not because I was too weak to walk to my own bed. Not

because the packhouse didn’t still carry my authority.

Because every other room let me pretend.

This room didn’t.

This room was the one place in the packhouse that refused to lie to me.

The door still creaked the same way it did when I used to open it with a key and a calm face, pretending I was doing something necessary. The air still held the faintest trace of her, rage and iron

and a stubborn refusal to be broken. The bed still looked too small for what I forced her to endure in

here. The corners still felt like they had ears

And my mind kept replaying it in brutal detail.

I sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, hands clasped tight, and scolded myself like I was a soldier and my own commander.

You did this.

You did this with your eyes open.

You did this while telling yourself it was strategy.

You did this while calling it protection.

You did this while believing your own nonsense.

For the first time, I couldn’t hide behind the words I used to justify it.

Betrayal.

That was what it was.

But while I did it, I hadn’t called it that.

While I did it, I hadn’t seen it as betrayal. I had seen it as a plan. A harsh plan. A plan that would keep

the pack safe. A plan that would keep her alive. A plan that would get us what we needed.

Union protection

< Chapter 97 The Room, The Lie, The Deal

Recognition.

A seat at a table where stronger packs couldn’t crush us on a whim.

That was what I told myself.

Just play along, Arya.

Just wait

Just endure it for a little while.

Then we win.

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I had wanted her to understand.

I had wanted her to be clever with me, cold, patient, strategic.

I had wanted her to keep her head down for once, to swallow her pride for once, to stop fighting every insult like it was a war.

I had wanted her to “play” the room.

I had wanted her to take the humiliation, hold her anger, and survive long enough for me to seal the deal.

That was what I told myself when I allowed the chain.

When I allowed the silver.

When I allowed the cell.

When I stood there while Marcel spoke like he owned my home.

When Leah walked in with her smug mouth and her father’s shadow.

I had told myself it was temporary.

I had told myself it was controlled.

I had told myself it was the only way.

Now, sitting here with the night thick outside the walls and the packhouse still smelling like smoke from the massacre, I could see it cleanly.

Even if Arya had played along, truly played along, she still would have been blamed.

Even if she had smiled beside Leah.

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< Chapter 97 The Room. The Lie. The Deal

Even if she had nodded politely at Marcel.

Even if she had stood in silence while the pack whispered.

Even if she had endured every insult without snapping.

That banquet would still have happened.

Leah would still have drank poison.

Leah would still have lost the child.

And Arya would still have been blamed.

Because the scheme wasn’t built on Arya’s reaction.

It was built on Arya’s existence.

Marcel didn’t need her to fight to destroy her.

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He only needed her to be there, to be the obstacle standing between Leah and the “true Luna” title.

He only needed her to have a name the pack could chant when they needed a villain.

I pressed my palms hard against my thighs and forced a breath.

My hands were shaking.

Not with fear.

With rage.

Rage at myself.

Rage at the way I had walked into a trap and called it a ladder.

Rage at the fact that my pack was still bleeding and my mate had vanished into the dark and I had

done everything possible to make it happen.

Jasper paced inside my skull, restless, angry, not letting me hide.

FOOL. he snarled.

“Shut up,” I muttered.

YOU CUT HER. Jasper roared.

“I know.”

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< Chapter 97 The Room. The Lie. The Deal

YOU LOCKED HER HERE. he continued, louder, savage.

“I KNOW.”

The sound bounced off the walls. It felt wrong in this room, like any loud noise was a desecration

I stood abruptly and paced once, then again.

The room was small. Three steps one way, three back. It made the pacing feel like a cage.

Good.

Maybe I deserved it.

My jaw clenched.

No more spinning. No more sitting here drowning in regret like regret was a plan.

I needed action.

I needed facts.

I needed to stop being the Alpha who sits in the consequences and start being the Alpha who drags

truth out of the dirt by the throat.

1 stormed out of the room and into the corridor.

Guards straightened when they saw me. Their eyes were wary, respect mixed with fear. They didn’t

know which James they were dealing with anymore.

“Get Nixon,” I barked. “Devin. Archie. Now.”

“Yes, Alpha,” one guard replied instantly, and ran.

I returned to Arya’s room and waited, breathing hard through my nose, forcing myself to stay still.

Bootsteps came quickly.

Nixon entered first.

Devin and Archie followed.

All three looked like men who had been fighting exhaustion with pure spite. Their clothes were clean enough to appear presentable, but their eyes carried the weight of the night. Nixon’s jaw was clenched. Devin’s gaze was sharp. Archie’s posture was tense, as if he was ready for another fight.

Nixon looked around the room the moment he stepped inside, and his expression tightened.

< Chapter 97 The Room The Le The Deal

Of course it did.

He knew what this room meant. He knew what it represented He knew why I was in here

“James,” he said, voice low, careful in a way that sounded like he was speaking to something wounded and dangerous.

I didn’t invite them to sit.

I didn’t offer anything.

I didn’t soften my tone.

“Close the door,” I ordered.

Archie did.

The latch clicked.

The room tightened around us.

Nixon looked at me directly.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said bluntly.

I laughed once, short and bitter.

“And yet,” I said.

Nixon took a step closer, gaze hard.

“You need to move on,” he said.

The words hit like a shove.

I stared at him.

Nixon didn’t flinch.

“Arya isn’t going to come back,” he added.

My chest tightened violently, anger flaring, but I held it down.

Nixon continued, merciless, because he wasn’t here to comfort me.

“I saw it in her eyes,” he said. “She was done.”