Chapter 97

Agnes

Over the following weeks, every waking moment went into the finishing touches on the fashion show.

What had started as a small charity event for single mothers and families had grown into something far bigger than I had ever imagined, all thanks to the support and enthusiasm of the other Lunas who had rallied around me.

Evelyn, in particular, had become a steadfast ally, her fiery spirit and sharp wit a constant source of inspiration for me.

The other Lunas had taken to promoting the show with an excitement that I hadn’t anticipated. They shared flyers in their packs, posted about it on social media, and even hosted tea parties and luncheons to drum up excitement.

The response was overwhelming.

Tickets sold out within days, and it seemed that everyone was talking about the ‘Luna-approved’ event. I’d initially only expected people in our pack to attend, but now every pack in the area was talking about it, so much so that we wound up having to move the venue to a bigger place in order to accommodate all of the extra attendees.

It was a lot of hard work, but it was worth it. And I couldn’t have been more excited.

The day before the show, I met with the other Lunas one last time in the design department for a final fitting.

Evelyn was standing in the center of the room, wearing the star piece—the sleek and sexy but practical housecoat that I had designed. It fit her perfectly, tapering in at the waist and then flaring out into a flowing skirt with a slit up one leg. There were pockets, of course, and hidden cinches under the skirt to crop it into a mini length if the wearer desired.

I couldn’t help but grin as I watched Evelyn twirl in the dress. “It looks perfect on you,” I said, stepping forward to adjust the hem. “You should keep it after the show.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You really mean that?”

I nodded. In fact, I intended to let all of the Lunas keep their individual pieces as thanks for all of their hard work—work which every single one of them had refused payment for, although I’d tried to give them paychecks on numerous occasions.

Evelyn beamed, throwing her arms around me in thanks.

As the afternoon wore on, the Lunas began to trickle out, one by one, until only Evelyn and I remained. She gave me one more quick hug before heading out, promising to see me bright and early the next morning.

Once everyone was gone and I was blissfully alone, I took a moment to soak it all in. The room was quiet now, peaceful. I walked over to the racks, running my fingers over the fabric of each piece.

Everything looked perfect.

I was just about to turn off the lights and head home when I glanced up and saw Elijah standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. I startled a bit at his presence, thinking that he’d gone home hours ago.

“Elijah,” I said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, his sharp eyes scanning the racks of clothing. “I wanted to see how everything was coming along. It looks incredible, Agnes. You’ve done an amazing job.”

I felt my cheeks heat a little under his praise. “Thank you,” I said. “It’s been a lot of work, but for the first time in a long time, I feel… accomplished.”

Elijah furrowed his brow slightly. “You never felt accomplished before? Supporting yourself all on your own while searching for your child?”

My stomach twisted at the reminder. I’d been so busy lately that I hadn’t had much of a chance to think about the reopened case on my daughter, which was partially my own doing. I preferred to keep my mind busy because it kept me from spiralling.

When I didn’t answer, Elijah took a step closer and said in a softer voice, “You were always admirable. But I’m even more proud of you now. You’ve taken on so much, and you’ve handled it all with such grace. You’re a natural leader, Agnes. The pack is lucky to have you.”

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t used to being praised like this. And while Elijah was always appreciative of my efforts, he wasn’t the type to hand out such words lightly.

He smiled then, a small, tender smile that made my heart skip a beat no matter how much I tried not to let it. “I’ll be sitting front row tomorrow,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at that. “It means a lot to me that you’ll be there. Thea, too.”

We stood there for a moment, neither of us speaking. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know where to begin. Instead, I simply nodded and turned to gather my things.

As we left the design department together, I felt a strange sense of contentment settle over me. Despite everything—despite the tension between us, despite the uncertainty of our future—I was grateful for Elijah. Grateful for his support, for his guidance, for everything he had taught me about being a good Luna.

“Elijah,” I said as we reached the car, unable to hold it in any longer, “I just wanted to say… thank you. For everything.”

He looked at me as if surprised. “For what?”

“For teaching me how to be a Luna.”

Elijah hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking over me with an unreadable expression in them, before he said, “You don’t have to thank me, Agnes. I just gave you the tools. You’re the one who figured out how to use them.”

I wanted to argue, but Elijah was already getting in the car. As we drove home, I found myself thinking about how I could show my gratitude, even if he had said that I didn’t have to. A gift, perhaps. Something meaningful, something that would convey just how much his support really meant to me.

The next morning, I woke up far earlier than my alarm, too excited to sleep any longer. Today was the day. After months of hard work, it was finally here.

I dressed quickly, my hands trembling slightly as I buttoned my blouse and smoothed my skirt. I grabbed my bag and headed out the door on my own, the crisp morning air filling my lungs as I made my way to the venue.

When I arrived at the venue, I was greeted by the sight of the stage, already set up and ready to go. The rows of chairs were neatly arranged, the lights were in place, and the backdrop—a stunning display of shimmering fabric—was perfect.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way backstage. The racks of clothing were lined up, each piece carefully covered to protect it from dust and damage.

But as I approached the first rack, something felt off.

I reached out to pull back the cover, my fingers brushing against the fabric. And then I froze.

The dress underneath was in tatters.

My heart stopped, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at the ruined garment. The fabric was shredded, the delicate embroidery torn apart, the seams ripped open.

I stumbled back, my mind racing as I moved to the next rack, then the next, pulling back the covers with trembling hands.

Each piece was the same. Destroyed. Ruined.

Someone had cut up all of the outfits in the middle of the night.