The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60: The Dance Under the Moonlight

**(Third Person)**

The scouts began their sweep before midnight.

Three teams—six werewolves total—split up and moved through the southeast district of Duskmoor. They searched alleyways, side streets, loading docks, and industrial zones.

All were dressed in plain clothes, but each moved like soldiers trained for war.

The search started with the Taproot Bar.

The bartender, a burly man with silver streaks in his beard, claimed he remembered Ronan Wex and his friend clearly.

"They were here around ten," he said, voice low and cautious. "Had two pints each. Talked like usual. Didn’t see anyone strange that night."

Security footage confirmed the man’s story—Ronan had left the bar with his friend, before the latter stopped a cab and got in.

The footage also showed three shadows trailing two blocks behind Ronan, but it vanished in a blink. No scent was found, no trace of who—or what it could have been.

At the southeast block, unit 4B remained untouched. No signs of entry. No struggle.

The most promising lead came near the port district. Just before dawn, one of the scouts picked up something faint—a scent. Barely there, as if scrubbed or hidden. But it was werewolf. Familiar. Close to Ronan’s profile.

It led toward an abandoned warehouse.

Inside, they found only one thing: Ronan’s phone, shattered and covered in dried blood. A worker’s badge from the port was also discovered in a pile of discarded trash nearby.

There was no body. No sign of where he had gone. Just a cracked device and blood.

The scent disappeared completely beyond that point, as if it had been erased.

The scout who found it, Doren, contacted Jeffery immediately. And Jeffery, without wasting another second, called the one person who needed to know.

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~**Draven**~

I arrived home just past five alone. I had to drop Dennis off at a location to assist with the search.

The SUV rolled to a stop by the east wing, and I stepped out alone, leaving the vehicle to one of the night drivers.

The sky was still painted in the deep hues of night, stars blinking faintly above, and the edge of morning nowhere in sight.

The manor was quiet.

No warriors at the gate. No wandering staff in the corridors. Everyone was where they should be—sleeping or preparing for the day ahead.

Because of my habit of taking walks and doing random checks every time I arrived home later than usual like today, I walked the long stretch of paved path around the west side, meaning to cut through the rear balcony when I caught a flicker of movement in the moonlit garden.

I paused.

Someone was outside.

At first, I thought it was one of the guards doing patrol until I stepped further into the shadows and saw her.

Meredith.

Barefoot on the cold grass, her long nightgown swaying like a pale ghost’s robe under the moonlight. Her eyes were shut, arms moving slowly in odd motions, not quite dancing... but not entirely still.

It was graceful and strange.

Was that a ritual? Perhaps, a meditation?

I didn’t move an inch. I stayed back where the hedges veiled me from view, forgetting about my habitual patrol.

Meredith swayed once more, hands lifting lightly before curling back toward her chest, then lowering in slow rhythm.

"She is possessed," Rhovan said, slowly waking up. He seemed exhausted.

Possessed? That seemed more like it.

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