The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 409

Chapter 409: Breathing Between Battles
Meredith.

The forest blurred by the outside, the road stretching ahead like a long dark promise.

Draven was quiet beside me. His gaze was fixed out the window, his face calm but unreadable, the faint glow of the moon casting a silver sheen on the edges of his profile.

Then, without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out his smartphone.

I blinked, watching him swipe the screen and open his contact list—the faint light reflected in his eyes, sharp and focused.

That small, simple action made me think of my own phone—still in Azul’s possession. I exhaled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the tyres.

Suppose I hadn’t seen Draven reach for his, I might not have recalled that I had one of those.

My gaze drifted back to Draven’s phone just as he found the contact he wanted. He pressed the screen, and I caught a glimpse of the name displayed there—Father.

Then, he lifted the phone to his ear.

The faint, steady ring filled the car’s quiet interior, echoing softly in my ears as we sped through the night.

Finally, the call connected, and a deep, familiar voice sounded through the receiver—steady, commanding, seasoned with age and strength.

“Draven.”

The tone was curt but not cold. It carried the weight of a father who had waited long enough for this call.

“Father,” Draven said, his voice calm and even. “We are returning home.”

There was a short pause, heavy with unspoken questions. Then his father’s voice came again, sharper this time.

“So it’s done, then? The war?”

I could hear the suspicion behind the question—the readiness for bad news, or perhaps the disbelief that his son had finished something so monumental without fanfare.

Draven leaned back slightly in his seat, eyes half-lidded. “Yes. It’s done.”

That was all he said. There was no elaboration or pride, just quiet finality, like the story behind it wasn’t necessary to tell.

But his father didn’t take that easily. “How did you take down Brackham? What did you do with him and his followers?”

Draven’s lips curved faintly, though his expression didn’t soften. “I will share the rest of the details when we arrive.”

A short silence followed immediately after that.

I could almost imagine the older man on the other end of the line, his brow furrowed, his jaw set in restrained impatience.

Then came the audible sigh—a sound that carried both resignation and reluctant acceptance.

Even from where I sat, I could feel it: the quiet understanding between father and son, two men of command who didn’t need to explain everything to be understood.

“Then, when will you arrive?” his father finally asked, his tone measured again.

Draven glanced briefly at the faint horizon ahead, where the black of night had just begun to fade into the barest hint of grey.

“Around seven or eight in the morning.”

There was another pause—then a low hum, the sound of satisfaction hidden beneath the old man’s composure.

“I will have everything ready.”

“Good.” Draven’s tone softened just slightly. “See you soon, Father.”

Then the line went dead.

Draven lowered the phone and slid it back into his coat pocket. The air in the car seemed to ease again, though the night outside was still thick and endless.

I turned my head to him. “He sounded… pleased.”

Draven’s gaze shifted to me, and for the first time since we’d left Duskmoor, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“He has been waiting a long time for Brackham and his cohorts to be taught a lesson, and for us to come home.”

Our eyes met in the dim light of the car—a quiet exchange that needed no words.

—

The hum of engines had become the only sound in the world.

Hours had slipped by in near silence. Only the occasional rustle of wind, or the faint growl of tyres on the long, empty highway.

I had no idea when my eyes had started feeling heavy, but I blinked them open when the car began to slow.

The headlights of the convoy ahead dimmed one after the other, a silent chain of motion as every vehicle pulled over to the side of the road.

The driver killed the engine. For the first time in hours, the world was quiet.

I sat up straighter. “Why are we stopping?”

Draven’s gaze was already fixed on the dark stretch of woods to our right. “It’s the rest stop,” he said calmly. “We’ve been on the road for six hours.”

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and blinked in surprise. Six hours. It hadn’t felt that long.

Outside, a few car doors opened and closed softly. Some of the warriors had already stepped out, their forms barely visible under the pale spill of moonlight.

Draven noticed the curiosity in my eyes and said, “No one gets out yet.”

“Why?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

He turned slightly toward me, his sharp profile cut by the dim glow from the dashboard. “A few of our scouts will check the surroundings first,” he explained.

“They will make sure it’s safe with no threats of any kind. Once they give the signal, everyone can stretch their legs, eat, and prepare for the last part of the trip.”

I nodded slowly, understanding.

Through the tinted glass, I watched as four of the warriors moved silently into the woods, disappearing like shadows swallowed by darker shadows.

The others remained by the cars, alert, hands resting loosely on their weapons.

Draven leaned back, folding his arms. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Only the soft ticking of the cooling engine filled the silence.

The moon was still high, but its light had grown thinner—pale streaks of grey starting to thread through the eastern sky. Dawn was inching closer.

I turned to him again. “Do you ever… get used to this?”

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Used to what?”

“The constant vigilance,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Always watching, waiting, and expecting danger.”

Draven’s eyes stayed fixed on the treeline ahead. “No,” he said. “You don’t get used to it. You just learn to breathe between the battles.”

Something about the way he said it—steady, certain, settled deep inside me.

I leaned back against the seat, letting the stillness wrap around us while the night whispered just beyond the glass.