The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 579: Draven’s Wrath (III)

[Draven].

The trees blurred past me as my feet tore into the familiar path.

This was the trail, the one Meredith and I ran every morning, the one that was supposed to steady me.

But tonight, it did nothing.

My breath came sharp and uneven from the fire burning in my veins. I stopped abruptly, bark crunching beneath my boots, and slammed my palm into the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Come out," I growled inwardly. "Enough hiding."

I was met with silence. The bastard had the audacity to stay silent.

"You knew," I said, my voice low, shaking. "You knew what we are."

Still, he didn’t make any move.

The rage surged harder, dragging something dark and old with it. I felt it then—the pull beneath my skin, the unfamiliar hunger sharpening my senses beyond wolf.

"Rhovan!" I roared.

The pressure in my chest exploded, and he surfaced whether he wanted to or not.

"I did not want to hurt you," he said at last, his voice restrained, guarded. "You pride yourself on being a werewolf. I thought—"

"You thought lying to me was mercy?" I snapped. "You thought letting me live a lie was kindness?"

The anger twisted, hotter now. I felt my canines lengthen, the sharp pressure against my gums unmistakable.

Rhovan hesitated for a moment. "Our situation is not bad," he tried. "You are still a dominant wolf—"

I laughed, a short, broken sound. "If it wasn’t bad, you wouldn’t have hidden our identity."

Just then, my vision sharpened painfully. Gold flooded my sight, dilating until the world seemed too small to contain me. Claws slid from my fingers with a familiar burn and an unfamiliar ease.

Rhovan stiffened. "Draven, control yourself—"

"Who else knows about this apart from our mate, my father, mother, and Estella?" I demanded.

The pause was answer enough. "Who," I repeated, venomously.

"Your Beta," Rhovan said carefully. "Jeffery."

I felt the world tilt. "How long has he known about it?" I managed to find my voice.

"Five years."

Five?

My breath left me in a harsh exhale. Five years of standing beside me. Five years of loyalty so absolute it made my chest ache, and my anger twist deeper.

"How?" I demanded hoarsely. "When did he find out?"

"During one of our highest epistles of rage," Rhovan answered. Our vampiric side surfaced. Jeffery was with us then, so he saw it. And every time since then, he would try to calm us down if he was with us."

I staggered back a step. ’Jeffery knew, yet said nothing.’

Part of me—some battered, stubborn part, recognized the depth of that loyalty. Another part recoiled in humiliation.

"He watched me live a lie," I snarled.

"He did right," Rhovan cut in quickly. "You did not know your own nature. How could he speak of it without destroying you?"

That was it. My control snapped.

With a violent swipe of my claws, I slashed through the tree beside me. The bark split, and the trunk groaned as it cracked.

I didn’t stop there. I could feel the urge to tear, to destroy, to make the world bleed for daring to shape me without my consent.

"I am not fit to be King," I said, my voice raw. "A throne built on a lie is no throne at all."

"It has been written in the stars," Rhovan said firmly. "You will be King."

"Shut up!"

The forest trembled with my shout.

"Your werewolf blood dominates," he insisted. "The rest does not matter—"

"I told you to be silent," I hissed. "Do not speak to me again!"

The air between us vibrated with restrained violence.

"If you had a body right now," I continued coldly, "I would have torn you apart already."

Rhovan withdrew at last, retreating deep into the recesses of my mind. But the damage was done.

I stood alone beneath the trees—wolf, vampire, king, fraud—unsure which part of me was still standing.

---

[Meredith].

I found him exactly where I feared he would be.

The moment I reached the familiar running path, my chest tightened. The trees bore fresh wounds—deep claw marks carved violently into bark, sap still glistening where wood had been torn open.

The air itself felt charged, vibrating with rage that hadn’t fully dissipated.

Draven stood there, at the centre of the destruction. His shoulders were rigid. His claws were still out. And his eyes were glowing far too bright, gold, edged with something darker that made my heart stutter.

"Draven," I called, keeping my voice steady even as fear crept up my spine.

He turned. For a split second, I thought he might lash out. But instead, something in him collapsed.

"I’m not worthy," he said hoarsely. "Not of the throne. Not of anything. I’m a fraud."

I didn’t hesitate. I crossed the distance between us and reached for him. "Stop," I said firmly. "You will not speak about yourself that way."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I’m not even a pure werewolf. Everything I am, everything they admire, comes from a lie in my blood."

I grabbed his wrist and forced him to look at me. "Look at me," I said.

He did.

"I’m not a full werewolf either," I reminded him quietly. "I carry fae blood. Power that doesn’t belong to this world. Does that make me false? Does that erase everything I’ve survived? Everything I’ve fought for?"

His jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.

"You are strong because of who you are," I continued. "Not because of how your blood was mixed."

His breath shuddered. "My father orchestrated everything about me," he said. "He trained me harder than anyone else. Pushed me until I bled, until I broke. You can’t tell me he didn’t plan this. He deceived me. Deceived everyone."

I let him speak without interruption. I let the poison spill out of him because I knew bottling it would only make it worse.

"I won’t forgive him," he said, voice low and shaking. "I don’t think I ever can."

I opened my mouth to respond, then my senses sharpened at the sound of footsteps, the familiar rhythm, and a heartbeat I recognized instantly. Dennis.

And he was almost close.

My hand tightened around Draven’s arm. "Someone is coming," I whispered. "We need to leave. Now."

His eyes flicked toward the trees, then back to me. Reluctance flashed across his face, but he nodded.

Quickly, I took his hand and pulled him away from the path, toward the one place no one would think to look for us. Our private training area.

We slipped into the small house and shut the door behind us, and only then did the tension ease just a little.

Draven sank heavily on the bed, exhaustion crashing into him all at once. I guided him back gently until his head rested against the softness of my chest.

My arms wrapped around him instinctively, one hand cradling his shoulder, the other patting his back slowly, over and over.

"It’s okay," I murmured. "I’ve got you."

He was still stiff, still burning beneath the surface. "I won’t forgive him," he repeated quietly, like he needed to anchor himself to the thought.

This time, I didn’t argue. I only held him tighter, letting my presence do what words couldn’t, for now.