The lost mate
Chapter 89: The Luna’s Circle

Chapter 89: The Luna’s Circle

"Luna Miriam of the Rockwood Pack," she introduced herself, extending a delicate hand.

Anne smiled politely and shook her hand. "It’s lovely to meet you."

Anne smiled back. "It’s an honour, Luna Miriam."

Miriam’s eyes sparkled as she linked her arm through Anne’s, gently pulling her towards the far side of the ballroom. "I must introduce you to the other ladies. It’s tradition, after all. We Lunas must stick together."

The women stood in a tight circle, laughing lightly and exchanging sharp glances as though they shared some unspoken secret. They were impeccably dressed in designer gowns that whispered of wealth and power, each of them poised and elegant, their eyes gleaming with the sort of confidence that came from knowing their place in this world.

As Anne stepped into their circle, she felt like she had stumbled into the popular girls’ club from high school. There was an instant shift in the atmosphere. The women smiled, but the smiles didn’t reach their eyes. Instead, their gazes swept over her, assessing and judging, as though they were weighing her worth.

"Ladies, this is Anne," Luna Miriam said, her voice bright with forced cheer. "Damien’s mate."

Some of the women smiled politely, their faces neutral, but others exchanged subtle glances, and Anne could sense the undercurrent of disdain from a few.

One woman, with dark hair and striking blue eyes, was the first to speak. "So, you’re the one who finally tamed Damien."

Anne forced a smile. "I don’t know about taming him," she replied, her voice trying to match the casual tone, though she felt the weight of their judgement.

The woman laughed lightly, but Anne couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being sized up, tested even. The other ladies chimed in with polite comments, but the conversation felt more like a performance.

Then, to her dismay, she saw two familiar figures standing at the edge of the circle—Jessica and her mother. Anne’s stomach twisted at the sight of them. Jessica, with her icy beauty, stood slightly apart from the group, her arms crossed, while her mother stood besides her, her face impassive but watchful. Neither of them spoke to Anne, but their presence was enough to make her feel even more out of place.

One of the women, a tall blonde with a mischievous smile, glanced at Jessica and decided to break the silence. Her voice was sweet, but the words were anything but.

"Jessica, darling," she began, her tone dripping with mock concern. "How does it feel now that Damien has found his mate? I mean, you were engaged to him like... forever, weren’t you?"

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun, and Anne felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t expected someone to bring it up so openly, and certainly not in such a cruel, calculated way.

Jessica’s face darkened, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the stem of her champagne glass. For a moment, it seemed like she might lash out, but then she composed herself, though the ice in her tone was unmistakable.

"I was never engaged to Damien," Jessica snapped, her voice cutting through the laughter like a blade. "We were close, but that’s in the past now."

Anne winced inwardly, feeling the hostility radiating from Jessica. The other women exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle, while Jessica’s mother looked on with cold detachment. But the blonde woman wasn’t done.

"Still," she continued with a sly smile, "it must be strange, right? Seeing Damien so smitten with Anne? I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her."

Jessica’s eyes blazed with fury, and Anne could feel the temperature in the room drop. Jessica’s smile was tight, strained. She clearly wanted to say something biting, something that would put the other woman in her place, but instead, she just turned on her heel and walked away, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

Anne’s cheeks flushed as the woman’s eyes turned to her again. The tension was thick, and all she wanted was to find Damien and escape the suffocating atmosphere.

Excusing herself from the group, Anne wandered through the ballroom, her eyes scanning the crowd for Damien. The soft clinking of glasses and the low murmur of voices filled the space, but Anne was too focused on getting away to notice much of it.

As she approached the centre of the ballroom, Anne didn’t notice Jessica storming back towards her. It happened in a flash—Jessica, seething with anger and not watching where she was going, collided with Anne. Both women stumbled, their balance thrown off as they crashed into a champagne fountain made entirely of crystal glasses.

The sound was deafening. Hundreds of champagne flutes shattered, sending shards of glass flying as the fountain toppled. The golden liquid spilt over the table, splashing onto the floor, soaking Anne’s dress, and causing chaos to ripple through the crowd.

Gasps filled the room as guests turned to stare, the entire ballroom seemingly frozen in place. Anne, drenched and covered in champagne, stood there in shock, her heart pounding. Jessica, equally soaked and furious, looked like she was about to explode.

Anne’s mind raced as she tried to process what had just happened, her body still buzzing from the impact and the humiliation of it all. All around them, people whispered, their shocked expressions making it clear that this wasn’t just a social faux pas—it was a full-blown disaster.

Jessica’s eyes met Anne’s, her face twisted with anger, and for a moment, Anne thought she might attack her.

Damien appeared.

"Are you alright?" Damien asked, his hand on Anne’s arm, his eyes scanning her for any sign of injury.

Anne nodded, too embarrassed to speak. All she wanted was to disappear, to escape the judgemental stares and the smug smiles of the women she had just left behind.

"She attacked me !" Jessica shouted.

Damien’s jaw tightened. His gaze shifted from Jessica to Anne, and for a split second, Anne felt a stab of fear—fear that he might believe Jessica.

"I didn’t—" Anne began, but before she could explain, Jessica stepped forward, her expression angry.

"Lets have a trial." Jessica said triumpantly.