The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 439

Chapter 439: When the Full Moon Rises
[Meredith].

I reached our bedroom door, eased it open, and slipped inside. The air smelled faintly of cedar-and-night fragrance.

I shut the door, turned the lock, and leaned against it for a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The envelope sat innocently in my hands—white, smooth, unmarked, except for the faintest trace of lavender. My heart tightened.

I crossed the room and sat at the edge of the bed. My fingers hovered over the seal for a moment before I forced myself to open it.

A folded letter slid out. There was no visible writing, just like last time.

A soft, shaky exhale escaped me.

Grandma never wrote plainly. Never risked her truth sitting openly on paper. She had taught me how to read her hidden words, how to follow her secrets, how to see what no one else could see.

I stood and moved toward the living area. There was a small candle on the table, one Draven had used last night.

I grabbed it, along with the lighter beside it. Setting the candle down, I lit the small wick. The flame flickered softly, casting warm shadows across the polished surface.

Then I leaned closer very slowly, and the invisible ink seeped into view under the heat.

The first revealed words made my eyes sting lightly:

“Welcome home, my Edith.”

Home. Stormveil.

I steadied the paper and let the hidden ink surface fully.

“Word travels fast between shadows. I heard you have returned to Stormveil. How are you coping, my precious girl?”

I swallowed a lump.

Her voice echoed in my mind, soft, warm, patient—everything I had lacked from every other elder in my life.

More words bled into view.

“Your scent has changed. Your aura, too. I can see you have your wolf, Valmora, now.”

My breath caught in my throat. She knew. Of course, she knew.

Just then, Valmora, who had not made a move since we returned to Stormveil, stirred faintly inside me at the mention of her name. It felt like a pulse of ancient recognition.

The next lines sharpened into existence.

“Listen carefully, Edith. Do not reveal her. Not to those power-hungry, deceitful old wolves who sit on their thrones of pride. They would kill what they cannot control.”

My stomach dropped. My grandmother rarely wrote warnings unless the danger was real and immediate. Regardless, I continued heating the letter, and the next lines curled into view:

“You must stay unnoticed. Stay silent. And stay patient.”

I took another breath and moved to the next line.

“Everything you are—your wolf, your blood, your lineage, will bring storms if revealed too soon.”

I pressed my lips together. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already fear, but seeing it written, in her steady hand, made it heavier.

The final message appeared slowly:

“We need to see. When the full moon rises, come find me.”

I froze for a moment. My Grandmother didn’t ask to speak to me. She didn’t even ask me to send word to her, but rather, she said I should come find her.

‘It must be because of the Lunar Curse.’ I thought to myself.

My fingers trembled faintly as I lowered the letter into the candle’s flame. It caught fire instantly, curling into ash as lavender smoke filled the air.

I watched until it was nothing, gone like it had never existed.

When I finally stood, my hands were steady again. But inside me, a battle of thoughts had begun.

*—*

[Draven].

I looked past Xamira at Lucy, the new nanny, who stood at a respectful distance, posture straight, eyes lowered.

“Lucy,” I said.

She immediately bowed. “Alpha.”

“Give us a moment.”

She bowed again, without question, and stepped out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind her.

Then I turned back to my daughter. Her fingers immediately curled around mine.

I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the edge of the bed, sitting her on my knee. She swung her legs lightly, humming under her breath, completely unbothered.

But the image of the lifeless human body…

My jaw tightened.

I needed simple, direct answers, and without putting fear in her eyes.

“Xamira,” I began calmly, brushing her hair behind her ear, “yesterday evening… did you go out to your balcony?”

She shook her head immediately. “No, Daddy.”

My pulse sharpened.

“Alright,” I said softly. “Did your nanny—Miss Hannah—go to the balcony?”

She nodded. “Yes. She went outside.”

My stomach sank. “And what did you do while she was there?”

“I went to the bathroom,” she said, swinging her legs again. “I had to pee.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Good. And when you came back?”

She shrugged lightly. “She wasn’t there anymore.”

My teeth pressed together behind my lips. She wasn’t there because she had already fallen to her death.

I lowered my hand from Xamira’s back, breathing once through my nose.

“Did you hear anything? Any sound at all?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I didn’t hear anything, Daddy.”

The confirmation chilled every part of me.

A full-grown woman. No struggle. No scream heard from inside the bathroom. No sign she tried to grab hold of anything.

A silent fall.

No one falls from that height without a sound, unless they were pushed swiftly or silenced first.

I pressed a kiss to Xamira’s forehead, steadying the storm in my veins.

“That’s all I needed to know,” I murmured. “You did nothing wrong.”

She leaned into me, relieved. “Okay.”

I stood, placing her gently on the bed. Then I called her new nanny, and she stepped inside at once.

“Stay with her,” I ordered. “At all times. No one enters this room alone unless I say so.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she bowed.

I bent and kissed Xamira’s hair one more time. Then I turned and left the room, shutting the door behind me.

My face hardened the moment I stepped into the hallway.

This was neither an accident nor a misstep.

Someone might have entered my daughter’s room yesterday, led the nanny to the balcony, and also made sure Xamira wasn’t there to witness anything.

Someone wanted the nanny dead, or worse, they wanted my daughter on that balcony in her place.

A cold, lethal calm settled in my chest.

Whoever was behind this… I would find them. And hell would follow.