The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 384

Chapter 384: The Protest and The Aftermath
(Third Person).

The Next Day…

The afternoon light spilt across Draven’s study, catching on the edges of the papers and maps spread across his desk.

Dennis was leaning over one side, tracing the movement routes marked in red ink, while Jeffery was reading through a list of reports.

Draven sat back in his chair, quiet but focused, his mind already several steps ahead when a sudden, sharp knock broke through the silence.

Before he could answer, the door opened and Meredith stepped in, her expression taut.

“Draven,” she said, a little breathless, “there’s breaking news, you need to see this.”

All three men straightened. Draven’s brows furrowed slightly. “What happened?”

“It’s the humans,” she said quickly. “They are protesting. It’s everywhere on the channels—people demanding Brackham to end the lockdown. They are saying they are starving, that hospitals have shut down, and there is no more food in their homes.”

Dennis let out a low whistle. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

Draven was already moving, his chair scraping softly against the floor as he rose. He crossed to the sitting area and picked up the remote from the centre table.

One click, and the TV came alive, and the screen filled with the image of a woman in a navy suit standing before a roaring crowd.

The sound of shouting and chaos poured into the room.

“This is Maris Klein reporting from Duskmoor’s Central District,” the anchor’s voice carried over the noise.

“Thousands of residents have taken to the streets in protest, demanding that Mayor Brackham lift the state of emergency. According to reports, supplies have run dangerously low—food, water, and medical care are scarce, and tensions are rising…”

The camera shifted, showing footage of the streets. Humans holding hand-made signs, some shouting, some crying.

Police units were scattered along the perimeters, trying to contain the unrest.

Dennis’s jaw dropped. “Looks like these humans are tired of living. They don’t know they are inviting the vampires for a meal.”

Jeffery shook his head slowly, his tone dry and unimpressed. “They are really stupid. You would think after everything that happened, they would stay behind their walls and pray instead of marching into the open like this.”

Draven said nothing, his gaze fixed on the chaos onscreen. The shouts, the desperation—it was the sound of Brackham’s power fracturing in real time.

Meredith came to stand beside him, her arms folding across her chest. “It’s getting worse by the hour. They’ve lost faith in him,” she uttered quietly.

“Good,” Draven murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. “It means the pressure is working.”

Dennis glanced at him, a slow smirk curving his mouth. “Guess Brackham’s little kingdom is starting to burn.”

“Without us lifting a finger yet.” Jeffery chuckled under his breath.

Draven didn’t smile, though. His gaze lingered on the screen—on the chaos, the hunger, the fear. This wasn’t victory, instead, it was the beginning of Brackham’s unravelling.

After a moment, he turned toward the others. “Call the men,” he said. “We are moving tonight.”

Meredith’s head snapped toward him. “Tonight?”

He nodded once. “If Brackham’s city is already tearing itself apart, the vampires won’t resist the temptation for long. They will come out.”

—

A few hours later…

The sun bled out over Duskmoor’s skyline, smearing the city in streaks of amber and violet.

The crowd in the streets had only grown thicker as the day waned. Voices rose hoarse and desperate, echoing off the cold glass walls of the government quarter.

People carried signs, their messages scrawled in hurried ink.

“End the Lockdown!”

“We are Starving!”

“We Need Medicine!”

Mothers clutched children. Men shouted into cameras. News drones hovered overhead, streaming the unrest live.

For the first time since the lockdown started, the city felt alive once more—not with hope, but with hunger, exhaustion, and rage.

Then, somewhere beyond the crowd, a siren blared. It was sharp and brief before cutting out suddenly. The uneasy noise died down as people turned toward the sound.

“Did you hear that?” someone asked.

“Probably another patrol,” another voice answered.

But then the screaming started.

It came from the far end of the street—sharp, piercing and raw.

A man ran into view, his shirt soaked in blood, his face twisted in terror. Behind him, shadows moved too fast, too fluid to be human.

And then, the first body hit the ground. Chaos erupted instantly.

Screams split the air as pale, lean, and impossibly figures tore into the crowd. The vampires had come.

They moved like living nightmares, their eyes glowing faintly red beneath the streetlights, mouths smeared with blood.

Their victims barely had time to react before being pulled into the darkness between buildings.

Gunshots cracked. Police officers opened fire, but the bullets might as well have been pebbles.

The creatures blurred through the chaos, dodging the rounds, disarming the men, ripping through the fragile human lines of defence.

A woman stumbled, clutching her child. A vampire snatched her, dragged her screaming into the alley. The child’s wail cut through the din—high, thin, and short-lived.

The streets ran red.

By the time the last light of sunset faded from the horizon, Duskmoor’s protest had become a massacre.

Drones captured the terror, the slaughter, the impossible speed of the attackers.

—

Inside the government control room, alarms wailed. The sharp red glow of emergency lights pulsed against the faces of terrified officers and technicians.

“Sir, it’s spreading!” someone shouted. “The vampires have overrun the southern district—two blocks from the central plaza!”

Mayor Brackham stood at the centre of the chaos, his face pale under the strobing light.

His hands clenched the edge of the central console as multiple screens flickered before him—live feeds from across the city, all showing the same nightmare: humans running, bodies collapsing, blood pooling beneath the cold glare of streetlights.

“Deploy all units!” Brackham barked. “Tell every patrol to open fire! I want those things eliminated—now!”

“Yes, sir!”

Officers rushed to relay the order. Within seconds, the sound of gunfire thundered across Duskmoor. Explosions tore through the distant skyline, smoke rising in violent plumes.

But on the monitors, Brackham watched in horror as the situation only worsened.

The vampires weren’t dying. They were multiplying.

Each bullet only slowed them for a moment before they surged forward again, unstoppable. They slipped through alleys and under bridges, vanishing and reappearing to attack from behind.

Soldiers screamed, weapons fell, and the streets turned into a killing ground.