The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 615

Chapter 615: Under Arrest Like A Criminal

[Third Person].

Later that night, Dennis and Helena sat together on the terrace, the distant sounds of the estate settling into quiet.

Lantern light glowed softly around them, catching the rims of their wine glasses as they talked and laughed, shoes abandoned, and shoulders relaxed.

Dennis leaned back in his chair, watching the stars for a moment before glancing at her. There was an ease to him tonight that Helena had not seen before.

"My brother," he said eventually, swirling the wine in his glass, "loves his mate like the world would end without her in it."

Helena smiled faintly. "Anyone can see that."

Dennis chuckled. "It’s more than affection. It’s loyalty. Devotion. He doesn’t just stand beside Meredith, he shields her, trusts her, and listens to her." He paused, then added honestly, "I admire it."

Helena turned to face him fully.

"I want to love you that way," Dennis continued, quieter now. "And more, if I can."

His words weren’t dramatic like his usual personality. They were sincere.

Helena’s smile softened, but her gaze remained steady. "Then we need three things," she said gently. "Trust. Communication. And mutual respect. That’s what keeps a bond alive, not just feelings."

Dennis nodded without hesitation. "You will have all three. I promise."

She examined his face, looking for bravado or exaggeration, but saw only certainty. "Good," she said simply.

Then they raised their glasses and clinked them together, the sound light and clear.

"To us," Dennis said.

"To us," Helena echoed.

They drank, and for a while after, they sat in comfortable silence—two people not rushing the moment, content to let the night wrap around them as they began something new.

---

At the same time, the palace was quiet, wrapped in the deep stillness of night.

Meredith sat at the edge of the bed in her nightrobe, her feet resting in Draven’s lap. He knelt before her, sleeves rolled up, thumbs pressing gently into the arches of her feet with care. His touch was slow and deliberate, as if the world outside the room did not exist.

A few days before Dennis and Helena’s wedding, Meredith had been on her feet, managing a lot of administration. Additionally, there were several hallways and corridors in the palace she had to walk through to reach her destination.

It wasn’t an easy fit.

"Does it still hurt?" Draven asked softly, glancing up at her face.

She smiled down at him. "Not as much."

That earned him a faint smile in return, one full of quiet satisfaction. He adjusted his grip, easing the tension from her heels, his movements unhurried.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Meredith sighed contentedly and said, "Dennis won’t ever be lonely with Helena by his side. She’s good for him."

Draven nodded. "She grounds him." His hands didn’t pause. "I trust him to take care of her. And I hope she loves him just as deeply."

Fellowes Residence~

The next day, morning settled heavily over the Fellowes residence.

At the breakfast table, Reginald sat stiffly, his untouched plate growing cold before him. His gaze cut sharply toward Levi.

"Did you speak to Draven yesterday?" he asked, pointedly refusing to use the title that now followed the name.

Levi hesitated, then nodded. "I did, but briefly. The King dismissed the matter. He made it clear he didn’t want to discuss... us."

Reginald let out a short, humourless laugh. "Of course he did. Now that he wears a crown, he has forgotten old friendships. He thinks himself untouchable." His lip curled. "Showing off his power, that’s all this is."

Levi frowned. "Father, maybe you should consider apologizing. At least formally. He is the King now."

Reginald’s hand slammed against the table, making the cutlery jump. "Apologize?" he barked. "After he stripped our family of nobility? After he placed me under house arrest like a criminal?"

His eyes burned as he turned fully on his son. "You would have me crawl?"

Levi straightened but did not raise his voice. "I would have you be careful. You offended him first."

Reginald scoffed. "I will never bow to Draven Oatrun. Never." His voice dropped, venomous. "If he were not Randall’s son, I would have dealt with him long ago."

At the mention of Randall, Reginald’s bitterness sharpened further. "And Randall," he continued, "stood by and watched his son ruin decades of friendship. A weak man, unable to restrain his own blood."

Then, he sneered. "If Randall isn’t careful, that boy of his will turn on him, too."