The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 388

Chapter 388: Meredith is Hurt
(Third Person).

Before Meredith could protest again, Draven turned and began striding toward the direction of the cars, the unconscious vampire over his shoulder like a dark prize.

“Draven!” she called after him, her voice echoing through the trees. But he didn’t turn back.

Dennis stepped beside her, his grin unfazed. “Don’t worry. He knows what he is doing.”

Meredith shot him a glare. “You think I’m worried about him?”

Dennis chuckled, twirling one of his axes. “No. You are worried about yourself.”

“I am not—”

“Just now,” he teased, “your face said it all.”

She lifted her hand to swat him, but the air behind her shifted sharply and coldly.

“Focus, Meredith!” Valmora’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.

Immediately, Meredith let her instinct take over. She quickly unsheathed her sword and spun around as a pale figure lunged out of the dark with its claws gleaming.

She dropped low, the attack slicing through the air where her head had been a heartbeat ago.

Dennis’s laughter rang through the clearing. “Now we are talking!”

Meredith straightened, her sword flashing as she swung it upward, blocking the next strike. “I will show you who is scared,” she hissed.

More shapes emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing red, their fangs bared. The vampires had arrived, drawn by the blood and violence of their fallen kin.

Dennis cracked his neck and lifted both axes, ready. “You take left, I will take right?”

Meredith’s lips curved in a fierce smile. “Deal.”

The woods exploded into motion as the first vampire lunged fast—a blur of pale limbs and gnashing fangs, but Meredith was faster.

She sidestepped, her sword singing through the air and slicing clean across its throat. The creature staggered, a spray of black blood misting the cold night before its body hit the ground.

Another came at her from behind. She turned with the momentum of her first strike, pivoting on her heel, and drove her sword backwards into its chest.

The impact jarred up her arm, but she twisted the blade hard, just like Draven had told her. The vampire’s snarl died in its throat as it crumpled.

To her right, Dennis was a whirlwind of brutality—his twin axes flashing in the moonlight, cutting through limbs and bone with savage precision.

His laughter echoed through the trees, wild and full of adrenaline. “You are getting better at this, dear friend!”

Meredith ignored him, her focus locked on the three vampires circling her now. They hissed, spreading out, trying to flank her.

She crouched slightly, her sword gleaming silver-blue beneath the moonlight. Her breath came steady and measured.

Just then, Valmora’s calm and predatory voice hummed in her mind. “Use the rhythm of their hunger against them.”

The next vampire lunged, and Meredith shifted her weight, parrying the strike before sweeping low and slicing through its legs. It fell with a screech, and before the next could pounce, she spun, using the momentum to sever its head in one clean, fluid arc.

The third one grabbed her arm, its claws digging deep. She gasped as pain shot through her side, warm blood seeping beneath her clothes. But she didn’t falter.

Gritting her teeth, she twisted sharply, ramming her elbow into its jaw before driving her sword straight into its chest.

It convulsed once and then went still.

Dennis turned just in time to see the strike, blood dripping from his axes. “Now that,” he barked with a grin, “is my brother’s Luna!”

Meredith winced as she yanked her sword free, the wound in her side burning hot. “Don’t get distracted,” she shot back.

He smirked, then lunged toward two more vampires charging out of the trees. One swung at him, claws flashing, but Dennis ducked and buried both axes into its ribs.

The second tried to jump onto his back, and Meredith was already moving.

She sprinted, her boots pounding against the forest floor, and threw her sword like a spear. It pierced the vampire clean through the heart before it could land on Dennis.

The creature screamed, its body turning to ash even as Dennis looked back, astonished.

Meredith ran forward and retrieved her sword. “You’re welcome.”

Dennis huffed. “You are just a show-off like your husband.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Meredith said to him.

But there was no time to gloat as more shapes slithered out from between the trees—half a dozen now, maybe more, drawn by blood and sound.

Meredith and Dennis fell back-to-back, surrounded. Their breaths came in sync—two heartbeats, one rhythm.

Dennis grinned fiercely. “Let’s make this quick.”

Meredith lifted her blade, her violet eyes glowing faintly under the moon. “Let’s do that.”

The battle was chaos and grace all at once. Meredith moved like light through darkness, every strike clean, every motion deliberate.

At one point, her silver hair came loose, whipping around her face as she ducked, spun, and sliced, her body guided by instinct and Valmora’s murmured precision.

One vampire leapt at her—she sidestepped, using its momentum to drive her blade upward through its chest. Another lunged from the side; she ducked low, rolling away as Dennis’s axe cleaved it in two.

Minutes passed like seconds. The air was thick with blood and the metallic scent of ash.

Finally, the last vampire lunged, desperate and wounded. Meredith met it midair, twisting her sword in a downward arc that split it clean from shoulder to hip. The corpse hit the forest floor with a dull thud.

Silence followed.

Meredith stood still for a moment, her chest heaving, her blade dripping black blood. Dennis exhaled heavily beside her, leaning one axe against his shoulder.

“That’s all of them,” he said, scanning the shadows.

Meredith nodded, wiping her blade against a fallen vampire’s coat. Her wound throbbed sharply, but she straightened, refusing to show weakness.

But Dennis’s gaze caught the dark stain spreading at her side. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, even though the pain was starting to bite deep.

Dennis snorted. “You’re bleeding through your clothes.”

“Then let’s leave before I ruin it completely,” she said dryly, sheathing her sword.

He chuckled and clapped her shoulder lightly. “What a brave wolf you are.”

Together, they began making their way out of the woods, the full moon casting long silver shadows before them. Behind them lay silence—the kind born only after carnage.