The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 262

Chapter 262: An Innocent Reminder

Meredith.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain began slowly, cautious, like everyone at the table was waiting for Draven to set the tone.

Servants moved like shadows, placing wine and bringing steaming trays to life across the long spread of roasted meats, soups, fruits, and freshly baked bread.

Draven’s voice was the first to break the silence.

"You’ve all traveled far today," he said, his tone calm yet weighted, "so eat and restore your strength. Tomorrow begins what truly matters."

His words were simple, but his gaze cut across the table like a blade—resting just long enough on Gary, then on Mabel, before moving on. Neither of them dared speak.

Wanda lifted her glass with stiff fingers, forcing a sip, though her eyes remained downcast.

I busied myself with serving Xamira first, helping her with a small portion of soup and bread before I raised anything for myself.

When I finally settled back into my chair, I could feel my siblings’ eyes on me, the weight of their attention heavier than the silver goblet in my hand.

It was Mabel who finally spoke.

"When," she asked, her voice smooth but laced with something sharp, "did the scar on your face heal up?"

Her question was sudden, deliberate. I felt Draven’s attention flick toward her, though he didn’t speak. His silence, I knew, was not indifference—it was permission for me to answer on my own terms.

I lifted my gaze and met hers across the table. For years, I had learned to bow under her words, to shrink when she chose to draw blood but not tonight, and definitely not in my own home.

’My own home?’ Those words unlocked something right in me.

"It gradually healed up," I answered Mabel simply, my tone measured, betraying nothing of what truly lay behind it.

Mabel’s brows twitched, just slightly. She let the silence linger between us, her fork untouched, before adding, "For several months, your scar never mended back home... but when you came here, in Duskmoor, suddenly it did."

Her words weren’t just an observation—they were a probe. A needle meant to pry.

I felt the tension at the table shift, the faint sound of a servant pouring wine filling the air between us. Draven remained silent beside me, but I felt the steady warmth of his presence like an anchor.

"A lot of things contributed to it," I replied, my lips curving faintly though my chest tightened. "For example—being happier... and at peace."

My words carried across the table like soft silk, yet I meant every one of them. I didn’t glance at Draven because he already knew the real truth, and that I also meant those significant words I just mentioned.

I was indeed happier and more at peace here.

Draven’s hand, resting on the table beside me, shifted ever so slightly, brushing against mine in silent approval.

He didn’t speak, and he didn’t need to. His silence was a statement: he trusted me to fight my own battles.

Xamira giggled at something Dennis whispered into her ear, her innocent laughter breaking the heaviness of the moment.

I allowed myself to breathe, my chest steady, my back straight as I waited for more tricks from Mabel, and even Gary who was yet to say a word.

And as if he had been waiting for his moment, he cleared his throat. His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it, the same edge from the last time he threatened me.

"You’ve changed, Meredith," he said, his eyes fixed on me across the table. "You sound... different. Almost like you’ve forgotten who you are."

My chest tightened. Though I was a bit wary of him, I forced myself not to look away.

"I haven’t forgotten," I said, my tone even. "I’ve simply stopped letting others define me."

Gary’s jaw worked. He looked like he had something more to say, but one glance at Draven had him sealing his lips completely.

But just before the silence could stretch too far, Wanda leaned forward, her smile thin and deliberate.