The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Dennis is Attacked

~**(Third Person)**~

The forest was unnaturally quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that followed peace—but the kind that screamed of something lurking. Something wrong.

Draven moved through the undergrowth with sharp, soundless steps, his eyes scanning the shadowed path ahead. The scent was still strong—sharp, metallic, iron-rich.

Blood.

Dennis was only a few steps behind him, sniffing the air as well.

"Same direction?" Dennis asked quietly.

Draven nodded once, never breaking the stride. "It’s fresh. Maybe an hour old."

Draven and Dennis had been driving on the express when they perceived something wrong and decided it was a good idea to park their car by the road side and go into the woods to find out what it was.

The deeper they walked, the thicker the air became. Fog clung to the roots and hovered like a low whisper between the trees.

Then Draven halted. He turned toward his brother. "Let’s spread out. Cover more ground."

Dennis blinked. "You sure?"

"Yes. But not too far. If anything feels off—call."

Dennis gave a sharp nod. "Got it."

Draven added, his voice lower now, "Be alert, Dennis."

The brothers parted silently, fading into the woods in opposite directions.

Dennis moved quickly, his boots crunching lightly against the fallen leaves. His eyes flicked from branch to branch, every instinct in him prickling. The scent of blood was thicker here. Older bark had been stained crimson near the roots.

Then there was a sudden movement, a blur of motion behind him.

Dennis turned sharply, heart jumping. But he saw nothing.

Thinking it was just him, he exhaled. But the hairs on his neck remained upright.

Another second passed. And then—cold fingers wrapped around his throat from behind.

Dennis was slammed against a tree with bone-rattling force, the back of his head hitting bark.

A figure stood before him—tall, statuesque. His long black hair hung damp over sharp cheekbones, and his skin was almost luminescent in the moonlight, pale and without a blemish.

Blood streaked down the side of his arm like a forgotten decoration.

But it was the man’s eyes that locked Dennis in place—red. Not angry red. Hungry red.

"Let go—" Dennis choked, but the grip tightened.

The man’s fingers curled possessively under his jaw as if weighing his worth.

"You have a strong heart," he said coldly. "Almost perfect."

Dennis’s limbs jerked, struggling—but the pressure didn’t budge. His vision blurred.

Then, the man’s head tilted. He inhaled—deeply. A slow smile spread across his lips. His grip loosened slightly. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"You smell like one of us," the man said, curious now. "You were... with one of us."

Dennis wheezed, unable to respond, but fear flared behind his eyes.

From the distance—

"Dennis!" Draven’s voice thundered through the trees.

The red-eyed man’s grin widened. "Oops."

Dennis felt the pressure ease completely as the man leaned in one last time. "Seems like you are called Dennis, and I can’t have your heart today."

Draven’s voice grew louder. "Dennis!"

Draven burst through the trees, his eyes flaring wide at the scene—Dennis pinned, pale, blood on his neck, and the pale figure standing far too close.

"Get away from him!" Draven growled.

The red-eyed man turned his head lazily toward him. "That was fast," he muttered.

His eyes locked with Draven’s—cold amusement twinkling in their bloody depths.

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