The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 372

Chapter 372: Duskmoor’s Government House
Meredith.

The drive was quiet, almost too quiet.

From the back seat of the car, I watched the city blur past through tinted glass. The streets that were once packed with cars and people were now nearly deserted.

Shops stood shuttered, their signs dim. Empty sidewalks stretched for blocks, and every now and then, a patrol vehicle rumbled by in the opposite lane, its siren silent but its lights spinning a dull red and blue.

The state of emergency had transformed Duskmoor. It now resembled a ghost town, all glass, silence, and fear.

I glanced sideways at Draven. He sat with one arm resting against the window, his posture calm, his expression unreadable.

Even in this emptiness, he looked completely in control, as if he belonged to every shadow we passed.

Dennis and Jeffery’s car followed close behind, and two more vehicles trailed them with our men in them.

The convoy moved like one living thing, precise and alert.

Still, my nerves wouldn’t fully settle. I kept half-expecting to catch the blur of pale eyes or a flash of inhuman movement among the buildings.

But nothing came. No vampires, no screams or chaos. Just the rhythmic hum of the engines and the city’s eerie stillness.

Slowly, I exhaled. Maybe I had worried too much.

I turned slightly, looking toward Draven again. “How far are we now?”

He glanced at his watch, then back to the road ahead. “About seven minutes,” he said.

I nodded, settling back into my seat, trying to convince my heart to believe it. Seven minutes. Then we would be inside Duskmoor’s government house. And it would be my first time there.

But before I could let that thought soothe me, the low thrum of something distant began to echo through the air.

I frowned, leaning in closer to the window as the sound grew louder, rhythmic and more mechanical.

Then I saw it, a helicopter slicing through the sky above the rooftops, its metallic body glinting in the pale daylight. It hovered for a moment before turning towards us, sweeping lower as if tracking our convoy.

My pulse kicked up again.

Draven followed my gaze, and a faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Looks like Brackham decided to send us escorts.”

“Escorts?” I repeated, still watching the helicopter as it shadowed our route from above. “Or watchers?”

He chuckled lowly. “Does it matter? Either way, they will only see what I want them to see.”

His calm tone should have reassured me, but it didn’t. If Brackham felt the need to send air surveillance, it could only mean one thing: he was nervous. Because I refuse to accept this gesture as a kind motive.

And if Brackham was nervous, then this meeting wasn’t going to be as simple as a handshake and polite words.

The helicopter drifted ahead of us now, guiding the convoy like a black bird leading the way.

Draven reached across the seat, his fingers brushing against the back of my hand — a silent grounding gesture. “Relax,” he murmured. “We are almost there.”

I nodded, but my gaze remained fixed on the sky until the towering spires of the government district came into view. And the closer we got there, the heavier the air seemed to grow.

The buildings here were taller and sharper, all mirrored glass and stone, cold and commanding, as if they had been built to look down on the rest of the city.

Soldiers lined the entrance gates, their black uniforms crisp, rifles held tight against their chests. Their eyes followed our convoy the entire way, wary and unblinking, as though they already knew exactly who we were.

When our cars rolled to a stop in front of the main building, I caught sight of the large flag of Duskmoor flapping sluggishly above the courtyard. The colours looked almost faded under the cloudy sky.

Draven was the first to step out. And the instant he did, the air changed like it always did around him.

Even the soldiers at the gate seemed to straighten unconsciously, their instincts reacting before their minds caught up.

Draven didn’t need to say a word. Just the way he stood there, tall and composed, with his presence slicing through the tension like a blade, was enough to command silence.

Jeffery and Dennis stepped out from the second car a heartbeat later. Their movements were calm, but their eyes were sharp, scanning everything from the rooftops to the corridors and to the guards.

When Draven opened my door, I placed my hand in his and strode out. The faint chill of the late morning brushed against my skin, but his grip was warm and grounding.

Then, I let my gaze sweep through the courtyard.

There were at least fifty soldiers in sight, maybe more. Their weapons weren’t aimed, but the tension in their shoulders told me how alert they were.

I could hear the faint crackle of radios and the murmur of coded reports.

“Quite the welcome,” Dennis muttered from behind, low enough for only us to hear.

Draven’s lips curved faintly. “He wants to remind us that we are guests in his territory.”

Jeffery’s tone was quieter, heavier. “Or prisoners who haven’t realized it yet.”

Draven didn’t respond. He simply started forward, leading the way toward the broad steps of the government house.

As we walked, I lifted my chin, meeting the curious, cautious stares of the humans nearby.

A few people, whom I guessed were secretaries and aides, peeked from behind the glass doors, whispering, their fear so obvious it clung to the air.

Their thoughts brushed faintly against me — anxious fragments, broken flashes of words.

“Are the wolves… like real wolves?”

“I have never seen one up close before. I used to think they were myths.”

“Don’t look at them too long.”

Just then, Valmora stirred in my mind, her tone dry but amused. “You can smell their fear, can’t you? Even through their perfume and sweat.”

“Yes,” I replied her. “It’s suffocating.”

“Good. Let it feed your focus,” she said.

Draven’s voice cut softly through my link with Valmora. “Stay close,” he said, his tone a little protective.