RECLAIMING LUNA

The papers landed in front of me, sliding across the polished desk like an execution order. Crisp. Final. I stared at them, at the ink spelling out the end of something that had unraveled long before this moment. Across from me, Xavier Blackthorne leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, his posture oozing satisfaction. Beside him stood her, the woman he had chosen—the one he thought held more power, more worth. His new lover. His replacement for me. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the papers. As if she had already won. Xavier exhaled slowly, a smirk curving at the edge of his lips. "Sign them, Luna." The sound of my name on his tongue used to mean something. Used to carry weight. Now, it felt empty—just another formality in a process that had been set in motion long before today. I reached forward, fingers brushing over the edges of the document. The ink was bold, confident, the signatures already placed except for mine. "You didn’t hesitate before signing your part," I murmured, my voice smooth, unreadable. His smirk widened. "Why would I? This is the right choice." The right choice. I lifted the papers, flicked through them absently, before dropping them back onto the desk. My movements were deliberate—controlled, measured, the way a warrior assesses a battlefield before striking. "You should’ve aimed higher," I said, my tone quiet, almost lazy. "Breaking me required more than ink." The smile faded from his lips. A flicker of something—confusion? Hesitation?—crossed his face, so fleeting that I might have missed it if I hadn’t spent years studying his every movement. Not anger. Not remorse. Just surprise. He had expected tears. He had expected rage. He had expected anything but this. I stood, smooth and slow, adjusting the sleeve of my coat as if nothing of importance had just transpired. Beside him, his new woman straightened slightly, eyes darting between us, sensing the change in the air, the shift in power. But Xavier remained seated, his arrogance faltering just slightly, as though he was trying to understand why this moment felt wrong. I didn’t give him time to figure it out. I turned, walked to the door without another word, and stepped out into the world without a pack, without a title, without him. And I had never felt more powerful.