The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 405

Chapter 405: The War (VI)

(Third Person).

In that agonizing moment, Meredith felt the surge before she saw it—the old power coiling under her skin, a heat that was not the lab’s fire but something ancestral and furious.

It rushed through her limbs and centred in her chest, a tide that sharpened every sense. Her fear cleaved into a single, hard blade of purpose.

With a sound like a breaking tree, she moved. The five soldiers fell inward to the sweep of her sword—not as a bloody mess, but as one immaculate, devastating motion that left them disarmed and incapacitated within a breath.

She had not thought the strike through; it had come through her as inevitability. For a second, the corridor held only the hiss of breathing and the settling of dust.

Then, she turned and ran to the nearest cluster of warriors. Two lay motionless where they had fallen, bullets having found flesh before hands could reach them.

Meredith’s breath hitched; something inside her snapped like a taut wire. She dropped the sword, anything that let her be nothing but human at that instant, and fell to the one nearest, hands moving with a healer’s reflex despite the blood and her own shock.

"No—no, hold on," she whispered, pressing fingers to a bleeding shoulder, kneeling on the cold concrete as if the heat of the lab could not touch the ice in her chest.

A second corpse lay a few feet away; the warrior’s face was already slack, eyes vacant under the harsh light.

A soldier, the last three of them still alive, staggered forward, rifle raised, their faces a mask of fury and fear.

He rasped something like a curse and fired. The shot cracked; Meredith felt the sting as the bullet found her. Pain exploded across her side instantly.

For a second, the world tilted. She tasted metal in her mouth and the scent of smoke and old grief.

But then, she twisted, rising through the white-hot shock, and stared at the three men blinking at their guns as if nothing had happened to them.

Around her, the wounded groaned; the remaining warriors braced, wounded but alive.

Her voice, when it came, was not pleading. It trembled with the grief and the red-hot fury that had been built into her these last hours.

"Today," she said, each word a strike, "I will have your souls."

Without waiting for a second, she hauled herself to her feet. Valmora hummed under her skin like a promise. A

round them, the lab collapsed into thunder—screams, the roar of the fire, the distant hammer of boots.

Meredith planted her feet, every tendon clenched, and advanced. The three soldiers aimed again, but they no longer felt like the end of anything; they were merely the next thing she had to pass.

The first lurch of her forward motion blurred the corridor into a flash of steel and movement.

The next second, the scene fractured into the sound of orders, the thud of bodies, and the single, terrible clarity of what had to be done.

---

The marble floors trembled under the weight of panic. Smoke, gunfire, and the sharp metallic tang of blood filled the air.

Draven’s hand clamped around Brackham’s collar, dragging the struggling man out of his shattered office and into the burning corridor.

The once-polished halls of the government house now echoed with screams, gunshots, and the inhuman snarls of vampires.

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