The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven

Chapter 197: The Kind of Wolf I Had

Meredith.

"Go to your room so your maidservants can tend to your injuries," Draven’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

I glared at him, my chest heaving from exhaustion and rage.

The sheer gall of it—standing there after letting Wanda tear into me, after letting her spit venom and fists alike, and then pretending he cared.

My heart burned so bitterly I could almost taste the resentment on my tongue.

In that moment, I hated him. I truly did.

Not for being Alpha. Not for being the cold, strategic leader I’d always known him to be.

But for failing where it mattered to me most.

He was a seasoned warrior, a brilliant tactician, a leader who had the loyalty of an entire people.

And yes, one day, he might be the greatest King the werewolves ever had. But none of that changed what he had proven to me today.

He was unfit to be a husband. And in that duty, he had failed miserably.

The words slipped out of me, raw and trembling with fury:

"You might be the greatest King our people will ever know, Draven. But when it comes to marriage, you shouldn’t bother. You’re unfit to be a husband—and you’ve failed in that duty."

I turned sharply, blood dripping through my fingers from my busted nose, and walked away from him—away from Wanda’s smug, satisfied smirk.

Every single step felt like punishment.

My ribs burned with each breath, my back ached where Wanda had slammed me into the ground, and my vision pulsed from the pain in my face.

My legs trembled so badly I feared they’d buckle beneath me.

Part of me wanted nothing more than to collapse right there on the sandy ground, curl up and let oblivion take me.

But Wanda was still watching.

Draven too.

And if there was one thing I had left—one pitiful scrap of pride—it was this:

I would not fall where they could see me.

Even if I had to limp. Even if every ragged breath scraped fire in my chest. They would not see me on my knees.

"Meredith!"

Draven’s voice cut through the haze—low and cold, but tinged with something I refused to name.

I didn’t slow my steps, and neither did I even bother to turn, nor did I let my shoulders twitch to acknowledge him.

Only when I reached the archway that led back into the house did I let my pace falter.

The moment the training yard disappeared behind me, the weight pressing on my spine seemed to double.

I stumbled through the hallway, clutching my nose with my free hand, sticky from half-dried blood.

A few servants appeared ahead, eyes wide with horror as they took in my state—sweat-soaked, limping, my shirt stained dark red.

"My lady—"

One of them tried to reach for my arm to assist me, but I jerked away violently.

They lowered their gazes and stepped aside, bowing quickly.

Climbing the stairs to the third floor felt like crawling through broken glass. Every step dragged at my lungs and sent pain splintering up my spine.

By the time I reached the landing, black spots danced at the edge of my vision.

"And here I was," I thought bitterly, "wishing my bedroom was still on the ground floor like when I first came here. So I wouldn’t have to feel every crack in my ribs scream with each step."

Finally, my hand fumbled at the door handle. It swung open and immediately, my gaze fell on Azul, Kira, Deidra, Cora and Arya. They were putting my room in order.

Their eyes went wide, faces draining of colour.

"My lady, what happened—?"

"Your nose—it’s still bleeding—"

"Was it the Alpha, my lady? Tell us who did this—"

They surged forward, reaching for me, voices climbing over one another. But something inside me snapped again.

"Enough!" I barked, my voice hoarse and shaking.

They froze in their steps.

My chest heaved as I lifted a trembling hand, palm stained dark red, to keep them back.

"Leave," I rasped. "Just... leave."

They hesitated, hurt flickering across faces that had grown familiar and dear. But they bowed their heads silently and filed out, closing the door behind them.

As soon as I was alone, the silence rushed in—loud and suffocating. My knees buckled a fraction, and I caught myself on the edge of a chair, breath ragged.

I let my hand fall from my nose, and blood dripped onto the polished floorboards at my feet.

Another drop. And another.

Part of me watched it, strangely detached. Part of me wanted to scream.

I looked down at my training shirt, the once-soft fabric stiff with drying blood, stained in ugly smears.

And in that moment, I hated everything.

Wanda, for her spite and cruelty and Draven, for standing aside, no matter what reasons might justify it in his mind.

And worst of all, I hated myself for believing, even for a heartbeat, that I was strong. For thinking that a single petty victory over Wanda meant anything at all. noveldrama

Hot tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back.

Then, with deliberate, trembling spite, I opened my hand and let the rest of the blood drip onto the floor beside my feet.

A messy, ugly stain to match the mess inside my chest.

And then, there was Valmora who left me truly alone to face the cost of her push.

I refused to let her hide. Even with my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts, I bit down on my rage and called her out.

"Valmora!"

The name cracked in my head like thunder and for a heartbeat, it was just the cold humming silence that had haunted me ever since Wanda’s fists drove the air from my lungs.

"Valmora!" I lashed again, my voice raw, trembling. "What kind of wolf abandons her host and hides away in the middle of danger?"

It felt like I was shouting into a well but then, there was a stir, and then, her voice, deep and low, curled around my bones.

"I could not help," Valmora said, steady, almost weary. "No one can know about me, Meredith."

My anger sparked hotter, burning away the shock. "Why? Why must you stay hidden?!"

Till today, I still do not understand her reason for that.

"By staying hidden, I protect both of us," she answered.

"Protect us from what exactly?!" The question tasted bitter on my tongue.

Valmora’s voice dropped lower, heavier.

"You do not yet know how many would want you dead for simply having me, Meredith. An ancient wolf queen bound to you."

I froze.

"Who would want to kill me for that?" I swallowed, hating how my voice cracked. "I am cursed, Valmora. People already hate me. They have always hated and wanted me dead since the Moon Goddess marked me."