The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 519: A Deal with Draven

[Meredith].

Draven and I walked side by side along the narrow path that curved away from the house.

The sun was already sinking, its light softened and amber, slipping between the trees in long slants that painted the ground in gold and shadow.

The heat of the day had faded, replaced by a cooler breeze that brushed against my skin and carried the scent of earth and leaves.

Everything felt quieter now. Draven didn’t speak, and neither did I.

Our steps fell into a steady rhythm, close enough that our shoulders brushed once... then again. Each time it happened, my breath hitched, and I hated how much I noticed something so small.

I wanted him to hold my hand.

The thought came uninvited, simple and aching. It wasn’t because I needed reassurance in words or because I was afraid.

I just wanted to feel him—to know, without asking, that he wasn’t still holding himself apart from me, that there was no longer bitterness in his heart for me after how I hurt him.

Draven’s hand hung at his side, close enough that if I shifted my fingers just a little, they would touch, but I didn’t.

I kept walking, with my eyes forward while pretending my heart wasn’t counting every second that passed without him reaching for me.

The silence wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t tense either. It was careful, like we were both aware that one wrong move could crack something still fragile between us.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

His expression was calm, unreadable, but his gaze kept drifting toward me. Like he was checking, measuring, and making sure I was still beside him.

Just then, we rounded a bend where the trees opened slightly, the last light of day spilling freely across the path. The warmth lingered just enough to be comforting.

Then, without a word, Draven moved closer. Our arms brushed again, this time deliberately. His hand grazed mine.

My pulse jumped. I waited, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his fingers slowly closed around my hand, firm and steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had made a quiet decision and didn’t need to announce it.

Relief flooded me so suddenly I almost stumbled.

I tightened my grip on him before I could stop myself. And he didn’t comment or look at me. He just kept walking, his thumb brushing just once over my knuckles.

That was enough proof that whatever hurt lingered in him hadn’t erased us.

And knowing Draven, I had no doubt he already knew I wanted him to hold my hand. He just wanted to drill me first, before giving in to my desire.

I walked beside him for a while longer, the quiet stretching between us, until he released a deep sigh and finally broke the silence.

"Can you tell me," he asked, his voice calm but deliberate, "the suspicions you have about my mother?"

Immediately, I stopped walking. The question hit me so suddenly, I almost forgot how to breathe.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the path ahead, my thoughts scrambling. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn’t one of them.

I had truly believed we were past this—for now, at least. Just this morning, I had told him clearly that I wouldn’t speak until I was sure. Yet here he was now, pressing again, as if the matter refused to stay buried.

’Why won’t you let this go?’

Slowly, I slipped my hand out of his. The loss of his warmth was immediate and unwelcome.

I lowered my head, refusing to meet his eyes, afraid that if I did, I would either give in too easily or say something I couldn’t take back.

"You’re forcing my hand," I said quietly.

He didn’t answer.

The silence felt heavier this time, not gentle like before, but weighted. He was still standing in front of me. I could feel it, but he said nothing. No reassurance. No argument.

It seemed like he was waiting for the answer to the question he specifically inquired about. And that, more than anything, made my chest tighten.

I exhaled slowly, exhaustion seeping into my bones. I didn’t want another fight. Not after everything we had just survived. Not after almost losing him... almost losing myself.

I lifted my head and finally met his gaze. "I’m suspecting a lot of things," I said carefully. "For example... your mother’s health."

Another sigh left me before I could stop it. His lips parted, ready to ask more questions, but I moved quickly, cutting in before he could.

"Can I ask you for a favour?"

He studied me for a moment, then nodded once.

"Can I answer your question after I visit your mother again?" I asked. "The last thing I want is to give you unverified conclusions. Things like that can destroy too much—things an apology can’t fix. Things time can’t rewind."

I held his gaze as I spoke, hoping he would hear the truth beneath my caution. I wasn’t stalling to deceive him. I was trying to protect him. Trying to protect us.

"So please," I added softly, "give me a little time."

Draven leaned closer, his eyes moving from one of mine to the other, searching, weighing, as if he was trying to read every thought I wasn’t saying out loud. The intensity of it made my stomach knot.

Then he leaned back slightly. "Then promise me," he said, "that when you do tell me, you will tell me everything. Every suspicion. Every detail. No omissions."

I shut my eyes briefly.

Of course. I should have known. There would be no more half-truths. No more pauses bought with patience. He wasn’t going to allow it again.

When I opened my eyes, I just looked at him, too tired to argue, and too drained to bargain.

He lifted a brow. "Meredith, we don’t have a deal if you don’t agree to my terms."

I felt it then—the weariness settling deep in my chest. I wanted peace. Just a moment of it.

"Fine," I said at last. "We have a deal."

He nodded and, to my utter disbelief, extended his hand for a handshake. I stared at it. Then at his face. Then back at his hand again.

Annoyance flared hot and sharp deep within me, but I swallowed it down and reached out and shook his hand anyway.