The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 505

Chapter 505: A Woman Who Knew Too Much
[Draven].

Breakfast was served in the same living area as the night before, though the atmosphere had shifted.

Morning light filtered in through the open windows, pale and clean, carrying the scent of dew and herbs from outside.

Low tables were set again. The food was simpler this time—warm porridge, flatbread, honeyed fruit, and herbal tea.

There was no plum wine. Thank the moons.

Dennis looked like death had brushed past him and decided he wasn’t worth claiming.

He sat hunched, one elbow on the table, fingers pressed to his temple as if holding his skull together.

His eyes were bloodshot, his usual sharp grin nowhere to be found. Every clink of ceramic made him wince.

Jeffery, merciless as ever, leaned slightly toward him. “You look like the moon personally cursed you,” he murmured.

Dennis groaned. “If she did, I would apologize.”

Meredith sat beside me, calm in a way that felt almost deliberate. Her posture was relaxed, her expression neutral, her attention divided evenly between her food and the room.

She was too composed, too balanced, as if nothing inside her had shifted overnight.

And that, more than anything, unsettled me.

Across from us, her grandmother sat upright, hands folded around her tea bowl. Though her sightless eyes remained unfocused, I felt her attention more keenly than if she had been staring outright.

Because she was.

I felt it every time her head tilted slightly in my direction. Every pause that lingered a breath too long. Every moment her presence pressed against my awareness like a quiet assessment.

She knew enough.

Rhovan stirred uneasily within me. “She is watching us,” he said.

“I noticed,” I answered internally, keeping my face neutral as I lifted my cup.

“Not like the others,” he continued. “She is weighing. Measuring.”

My gaze flicked briefly to Meredith. She was listening to Dennis complain about his head, one corner of her mouth lifting faintly in amusement. Peaceful. Unaware—or pretending to be.

“Our mate is too calm,” Rhovan added. “After what happened this morning.”

I took a slow breath. “She always looks calm,” I replied. “Even when she is standing on a fault line.”

Rhovan huffed. “That’s not reassurance.”

Dennis pushed his bowl away with a defeated sigh. “I swear that wine tasted innocent. Sweet and harmless. Like it wanted to be trusted.”

Meredith’s grandmother spoke then, her voice gentle but edged with quiet amusement.

“Some sweetness is only a disguise,” she said. “Especially under a full moon.”

Dennis froze. Then slowly lowered his head to the table. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Jeffery laughed openly this time, but I didn’t.

Just then, her head turned slightly—just enough that I knew her attention had returned to me.

“She is circling the truth,” Rhovan muttered. “Like a guardian deciding whether to bare teeth.”

I set my cup down carefully. “She warned us,” I said to him. “Last night. About timing.”

“That doesn’t excuse our mate keeping this from us,” he snapped. “We matter.”

My jaw tightened. I wanted to defend Meredith instinctively and fiercely. But the image wouldn’t leave my mind—the silver wolf in the clearing. Powerful. Free. Whole. And hidden.

“I know,” I admitted quietly. “And that’s what hurts.”

Rhovan fell silent for a moment, then spoke more softly. “Do you think she’s afraid of us?”

The question landed heavier than I expected.

I glanced at Meredith again. She met my eyes briefly, offered a small, unreadable smile, then returned to her meal.

“No,” I said at last. “I think she’s afraid of losing control. Of losing us. Or of becoming something she can’t walk back from.”

Rhovan considered that. “Then you will wait,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Even though it hurts.”

“Yes.”

“Even though every instinct says to demand the truth.”

“Yes,” I repeated. “Because when she speaks… I want it to be because she chose to. Not because I cornered her.”

Across the table, Meredith’s grandmother lifted her tea and smiled faintly—just enough that my spine stiffened.

As if she had heard every word.

Breakfast ended quietly.

Bowls were cleared, low voices faded, and people began to disperse in small, polite groups.

I had just risen from my seat when Meredith’s grandmother spoke, her voice calm but unmistakably directed at me.

“Alpha Draven,” she said. “I would like a word with you.”

Before I could respond, Meredith moved.

“We were actually about to take a walk,” she said quickly, slipping her hand into mine. Her tone was light, almost casual. “I wanted him to see more of the surroundings.”

Her grandmother paused. For a brief moment, I thought she would object. Instead, she inclined her head.

“Very well. The air is good this morning.”

She said nothing more, but something in her expression, something unreadable, settled heavily in my chest.

Meredith didn’t look at me as she led me away.

As we walked through the narrow paths between the houses, the village stirred awake around us. Doors opened. Smoke rose from hearths. The place felt quiet but watchful, like it existed half a step away from the world I knew.

I kept my pace even, though my thoughts were anything but. ‘Why had Meredith stopped her grandmother?’

Was it out of her protection for me? Delay? Or fear of what the woman might say to me?

Meredith broke the silence first. “You’ve been quiet all morning,” she said. “Even more than usual.”

“I told you,” I replied evenly. “I have a lot in my head.”

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “You’re avoiding me.”

I stopped walking. “No,” I said. “I’m trying not to say the wrong thing.”

She turned fully toward me then, her brows knitting slightly. “That doesn’t make it better.”

I exhaled slowly. “Meredith… whatever is bothering me isn’t something a one-hour conversation will fix. I hope you understand that.”

She didn’t answer, so we resumed walking, but the space between us felt heavier than before.

After a few steps, I spoke again, more deliberately this time. “Still,” I added, “a piece of good news would help. Even a little.”

She stopped so abruptly that I had to take another step to avoid colliding with her.

When I turned, guilt was written all over her face.

Her lips parted, then pressed together. Opened again… closed again. She looked like someone standing at the edge of a confession.

But just then, something inside me tightened.

“Say it,” Rhovan urged quietly. “Let her say it.”

“I-I… I have a lot of things—” Meredith finally began. But my patience snapped in exhaustion.

“I think I should go see your grandmother,” I said, cutting her off before I could stop myself. “She clearly has something important to say to me.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

I stepped closer and lifted my hand, brushing my thumb once against her cheek—a touch meant to soften the words, not wound her.

“I will see you later,” I added quietly, then turned.

I didn’t look back as I walked toward the house, though every instinct screamed that I should.

Behind me, Meredith remained standing on the path—silent, conflicted, and carrying truths she still wasn’t ready to give me.

And ahead of me waited a woman who already knew too much.