The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8: First Lesson from Alpha Draven

Meredith.

"This way," the butler said, his voice clipped as he gestured toward the left and started walking.

I forced my legs to move. Each step was heavy, and each turn made my head spin.

The Mystic Furs estate was enormous—a labyrinth of cold stone corridors, towering archways, and endless staircases. Unlike the Moonstone Pack, where homes were built for comfort, this place was built to intimidate. The walls loomed over me, lined with gold sconces and dark tapestries, each embroidered with the sigil of the Oatrun family—a black wolf beneath a full moon.

The air smelled of pinewood and something richer beneath—a scent of dominance and power.

By the time we reached the Guest Wing, my body was screaming in protest. My legs wobbled from exhaustion, and my stomach twisted with hunger.

The butler finally stopped in front of a large wooden double door.

He reached for a ring of keys at his belt, flipping through them before unlocking it. The heavy door groaned as it swung open.

"This will be your room from now on," he said stiffly, stepping aside. His tone was mechanical, void of warmth. "Your belongings will be brought in shortly. Someone will come to attend to you soon."

I parted my lips, wanting to ask—Who? What am I supposed to do next?

But before I could get a word out, he turned sharply and walked away, disappearing down the hall.

No instructions. No explanations.

I let out a slow breath and stepped inside the room. It was... surprisingly decent, larger than the cramped room I had in my father's house.

A four-poster bed sat against the far wall, covered in fine sheets. A large wooden wardrobe stood beside it. A simple vanity table rested near the arched window. Minimal, but comfortable.

But it didn't matter. This wasn't my home.

A sharp knock sounded at the door. Before I could answer, the door creaked open, and a male servant stepped inside, dragging my luggage behind him. He didn't speak, didn't glance at me—just dropped my things by the door and walked out.

I clenched my jaw, wondering if I was invincible.

Shaking off the irritation, I rushed toward my bag, fingers gripping the handle. I pulled it towards the bed and had just sat down to unzip it when the door burst open again.

Four women entered, dressed in matching dark uniforms, led by an older woman with a presence like steel. Her posture was rigid, calculated, and her sharp eyes scanned me with the cold efficiency of someone inspecting a flawed piece of merchandise.

None of them greeted me.

The older woman stepped forward, clasping her hands behind her back as she introduced herself to me. "I am Madame Beatrice. I oversee the running of the Oatrun estate."

Then, without waiting for my reaction, she turned to the servants and barked orders.

"You two—prepare the bath." She gestured toward the first pair of maids. "The other two—arrange her belongings."

They moved instantly, their efficiency unnerving.

I blinked, confusion tightening in my chest. No one had ever attended to me like this—not since the Lunar Curse.

In my father's house, I had been less than a servant. Now, I was suddenly important enough to warrant maids? I highly doubted that.

Madame Beatrice turned back to me, her face impassive. "It is time for your bath." Her gaze flickered over me—critical and unimpressed. "Strip."

I stiffened at her commands. My fingers instinctively clutched the fabric of my ruined dress. "I can wash myself."

A tense silence followed. Then, with a flick of her gaze, two maids suddenly stepped forward, their grip firm as they grabbed my arms.

Instinct, panic, and rage surged through my bloodstream. "Let me go!" I jerked against them, but they held me in place.

Madame Beatrice simply sighed. "You reek, young lady," she said bluntly. "And stray dogs are not allowed in the Oatrun estate."

Stray dog? She just called me a stray dog?

A hot wave of humiliation and fury slammed into me.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered—How did Draven even tolerate sitting next to me in the car? He couldn't have had it easier.

Then, irritation prickled my skin. Serves him right.

I exhaled sharply. Fine.

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