The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28: More Hatred Than Before

Meredith.

"You don’t want to answer the question?" Draven asked, casually spearing a large chunk of grilled chicken. "Did I touch a soft spot?"

He popped the meat into his mouth and began chewing slowly—methodically—like he had all night to sit here and peel me open.

I stared at him, saying nothing. My lips pressed into a hard line. My silence was my last line of defense, and I wasn’t ready to let it fall.

But he didn’t back off.

"I’m guessing here," Draven continued, his voice calm, almost curious. "Given the depth, shape and direction, I would say it was a claw. Not a blade. And from the way it curves at the edge—it wasn’t a full swipe. One claw. Likely the index finger of a werewolf."

I blinked. My chest tightened.

His guesses were too close. Too exact.

He chewed slowly, swallowed, and lifted a spoonful of salad to his lips. I stared, stunned, as he continued without waiting for me to recover.

"Your father hates you. That much is obvious. But he wouldn’t have touched your face. He would have left the mark somewhere hidden. Where it wouldn’t bring shame to the family name."

He swallowed again, unbothered. Unapologetic.

"Your brother wouldn’t dare. Not even in a fit of rage. Your sisters? Your mother? Out of the question."

He tilted his head and finally asked, "So, who did this to you?"

The air felt tight in my lungs.

I tried to keep my face blank. I tried. But I could feel the faint twitch in my brow, the way my breath subtly shifted.

He hadn’t been wrong. Not once.

I looked away, gripping my fork as a rush of memories slammed into me.

The Academy’s tiled restroom. The stink of bleach. My wild pheromones spiking without warning. The bastard classmate who cornered me, eyes red and fists clenched. He wanted more than just a sniff. He wanted to take. When I screamed, he panicked and slashed. His claw ripped down my left cheek before he bolted. Coward.

I still remember the burn. The blood. The humiliation.

I had wished him a slow death every day since. But that wasn’t something I was going to share, especially with him.

My thoughts snapped when Draven knocked lightly on the table with his knuckles.

"Little wolf," he said, voice low, "what are you thinking about?"

I snapped my eyes up to meet his as my grip tightened on the cutlery. "You." He had unearthed something I had chosen to keep buried.

His brow lifted slightly.

"You can’t read the room," I said through gritted teeth. "So how about this—you stay out of my matters, and I will stay out of yours."

Draven hummed thoughtfully as he cut into his chicken, dipped it into a creamy sauce, and placed it into his mouth with a deliberate calmness that made me want to scream.

He chewed, swallowed, then looked at me.

"You don’t tell me what to do, Meredith."

I glared at him, the words burning in my chest. I could feel them rising, pressure building like a volcano just before the rupture.

"Why did you marry me?" I asked, my voice cold and sharp.

The silence that followed was louder than any scream.

Draven didn’t look away. He picked up another piece of chicken, chewed it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I watched his throat move as he swallowed.

Arrogant busybody.

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