The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 583

Chapter 583: The Rest of the Story (II)

[Meredith].

"I was hiding in the woods when Randall found us. He was on a hunt. When he sensed me, he nearly killed me on the spot. A vampire, with a child no less."

A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "I thought that was the end."

I waited, barely breathing.

"But he didn’t do it," she continued. "He stopped. He looked at Estella—so small, so fierce even then, and something in him shifted. He spared us and brought us back to his family’s estate."

I frowned. "Didn’t anyone suspect what you were?"

She shook her head. "No. Although I don’t know how he did it, Randall made sure that no one knew. He was very careful and very protective of me. He told everyone I was a widow from a fallen pack."

The picture was forming too clearly now.

"He courted me," Rosalie went on. "Slowly. Gently. He gave me security when I had none. Food. Shelter. Safety for my daughter. And he called it love."

My jaw tightened.

"When he became Alpha, he married me," she said. "Soon after, I had Draven."

At the mention of his name, something softened briefly in her eyes.

"But four years later," she said, and her tone darkened, "everything changed."

I leaned forward slightly.

"Randall began to starve me," she said plainly. "He restricted my access to blood. Wouldn’t allow me to hunt. Wouldn’t allow fresh game near me. I didn’t understand it then. He still doted on Draven. Treasured him. But me?" She let out a slow breath. "I was caged."

My stomach churned. "And then?" I asked quietly.

"When I discovered I was pregnant again," she said, "he became kind once more. Attentive. Generous. He brought fresh game himself. Visited me daily. Watched me like a prized possession."

A possession.

"Then, I fell ill," she continued. "I was weak and unable to perform my duties as Luna. I couldn’t stand beside him anymore. Couldn’t even play with my son."

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"But he still trained Draven," she added, her voice sharpening. "Harshly. Ruthlessly. A pup barely four years old. I watched him come back bruised, exhausted... and I understood then."

"Understood what?" I probed.

Her eyes met mine—clear, lucid, and sharp. "He never loved me," Rosalie said. "He wanted what I could give him."

My breath caught in my throat.

"A child of mixed blood," she continued. "Power. Speed. Strength beyond ordinary wolves. That was his goal from the beginning."

The room felt smaller now.

"He used me," she finished. "Used my blood. Used my body. Used my children."

I didn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice. My fingers tightened around the armrest as the weight of her words settled into my chest.

My heart ached for Draven, for the boy who had been forged into a weapon before he could even understand what he was. And suddenly, so many things made sense.

On the other hand, Rosalie fell silent, her gaze drifting away again, as if the memories had taken their toll.

"Why didn’t you take your children and leave?" I asked quietly. "Why stay?"

Rosalie let out a hollow, almost bitter laugh. "I thought of it many times," she said. "But Randall was smarter than I ever gave him credit for."

I watched her closely as she spoke.

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