Too Late, the Luna Has Already Moved On

Chapter 7 – The Smile Didn't Reach Her Eyes

Angela's POV

After finishing our manicures, Rosalie and I treated ourselves to a full spa session. By the time I dropped Rosalie off, I had already decided—I was going to chop off all my hair.

After dropping Rosalie off, I walked into a hair salon, the bell jingling loudly as I entered.

The moment the stylist saw my waist-length hair, he let out a long sigh.

“Are you really planning to cut all of this?” He wanted to make sure, running his fingers through my thick strands.

My hair was dense, glossy, and smooth. It was beautiful black hair and was perfectly straight. I had taken care to keep it that way.

I looked at the girl in the mirror.

Black, shining hair; skin as pale as snow; a soft yellow dress that accentuated her natural elegance; and a face that didn’t require makeup yet remained breathtakingly gorgeous.

I knew that I looked like a blooming lily. Pure, beautiful, and harmless.

I smiled quietly, my expression calm and composed.

"Cut it," I said.

The stylist ran his fingers through my hair one last time. Waist-length. Dense and black and glossy, the kind of hair that took years of careful maintenance to keep.

He sighed. Picked up his scissors.

No, Silvia said.

It was never ours, I told her. We grew it out for him.

She went quiet. Not agreement. Just the particular stillness of a wolf who knows when an argument is already lost.

The first cut was the loudest. After that, dark strands fell to the floor in silence, one after another, and Silvia's resistance softened with each one until something else replaced it.

Curiosity. Just a small thread of it. But it was there.

The stylist stepped back. Looked at his work. Looked at me.

"This suits you," he said. There was something genuine in his tone. "Much better."

I looked at the girl in the mirror.

Same face. Same pale skin. But different shape to everything.

Oh, Silvia said softly.

What?

I forgot what we looked like. When we were just ours.

I smiled at the stylist. The first real one in days.

“A little coloring and perm would enhance your new look. Do you want to do that now? I have some recommendations. Take a look,” he said, showing me a sample booklet.

I glanced down at my stomach before he could open it.

"Next time," I said. "Give me about a week. Twenty days at most."

By then, a lot of things would be different.

He wrote it in his appointment book. Called after me as I left. I nodded over my shoulder and walked out into the afternoon.

Davenport Mall was all glass and light and luxury labels.

I stood outside a boutique window and looked at my reflection. The soft yellow dress. The wedge heels. The whole careful palette I'd assembled over a year of dressing for Jake's preference.

Compliance, Silvia said flatly.

I went inside. I came out with bags.

My new apartment was quiet.

I set the bags down and looked around at it — this space that was entirely mine, that smelled like fresh paint and nobody's history.

I changed. Valentino. Dior heels. The Chanel bag I'd bought for myself three years ago and never had occasion to carry.

I stood in front of the mirror. Lifted my chin.

"Angela," I said. "Happy rebirth."

The girl in the mirror looked back at me.

The corners of my mouth moved. Something approximating a smile. But my eyes didn't follow and I wasn't going to pretend they did.

It's okay, Silvia said. The smile will come. We just have to build something worth smiling about first.

Seven years. I couldn't say it didn't hurt. I wasn't going to say it didn't hurt. But Silvia was right.

If the smile wouldn't come, I wouldn't force it.

I checked the time. Pack patrol would be starting. Training hall after that — mandatory attendance for every wolf not on duty rotation. For a full year, coordinating both had been my responsibility.

Nobody needed me to do that anymore.

The emptiness that came with that thought surprised me. Not grief exactly. More like the particular hollowness of a wolf who'd been removed from her rank without ceremony. I'd managed two winters of supply lines, three border disputes, every administrative overlap between Jake's Alpha duties and the human world. And now I was standing in a new apartment that smelled like no one, and the pack was moving on without so much as a formal acknowledgment that I'd ever been Luna at all.

That's what losing rank feels like, Silvia said quietly. Not dramatic. Just — gone.

I pushed it aside and opened my calendar. Therapist in the morning. Gregory Perks at three.

One step. Then the next.

I was still in the parking lot outside the clinic when my phone rang.

It was Gregory. He never called before scheduled meetings.

Gregory was the CEO of Stoneclaw Entertainment. The largest entertainment company in Briarwood. Backed by the powerful Stoneclaw Pack and as a potential successor to Alpha Andre, his grandfather, Gregory Perks had a formidable reputation. As the third grandson of the Perks, he was in charge of the entertainment division.

My earlier songs had been released under Stoneclaw Entertainment. After I sealed my matehood with Jake, my Alpha husband had commanded me to take good care of his ailing grandfather. Knowing the former alpha’s days were limited, I turned down a life in the spotlight. Living my days under the radar.

But Gregory had always valued my talent. He had me compose under the pseudonym “Rowan Hart.” Even if the songs sold, this kept my foot in the door, making a future comeback more plausible. For Jake’s sake, I had signed a confidentiality agreement with Stoneclaw Entertainment, which was personally handled by Gregory. Only two people in this world knew that “Rowan Hart” was actually me. Besides myself, Gregory was the only other person who knew.

Back then, I had been too absorbed with life with my new Alpha husband to pay close attention. Now, the irony of it all left a bitter taste in my mouth. I pulled over and answered the call.

"Mr. Perks?"

"Rowan Hart." His voice was careful. He never used the alias in private. "Can you come to the office now?"

Something's wrong, Silvia said. She lifted her head. I can feel your heart rate from here.

"I have an appointment," I said. "What's happened?"

"Someone wants to buy your latest track." A pause. "They've asked to meet you directly."

"Handle it through the label. That's what the contract is for."

"I tried." Another pause, longer. "She came to my office in person. She wasn't alone."

I waited.

Gregory's voice dropped. "Her name is Adrienne. Adrienne from Adrienne Florals. She says she knows you." He exhaled. "She wants the rights to your song. I turned her down twice. However, this time she came back with Alpha Jake."

Oh, Silvia said. Low and dangerous. Oh, she did not.

I was already asking myself the same question.

"They're still here," Gregory said. "Angela — they're determined."