The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven
Chapter 139: Emotional Exploitation

Chapter 139: Emotional Exploitation

Third Person.

One warrior was flung several feet into the dirt, while another rolled to his feet, growling, blood smeared across his ribs.

There was no warning. No howl of challenge. Just an ambush.

A second later, instinct took over.

Several warriors shifted on the spot, their bones cracking and bodies stretching in violent transitions. The air rippled with raw power as they tore from their skin into fur and fangs, launching back at the attackers. Dust lifted in angry clouds. Claws met claws. Teeth scraped against hardened muscle.

The black wolf—larger, with sharper movements—danced through attacks like wind cutting through leaves. It slammed its paw into a silver-coated wolf, sending it rolling. A moment later, the black wolf leapt onto another, driving it to the ground before vanishing into the crowd.

The brown wolf was more aggressive. Wilder. It lunged and snapped with ferocity, tackling a young tan wolf to the floor and pinning it there, panting over it like a predator toying with prey.

On the edge of the field, Jeffery stood with his arms behind his back, his sharp eyes watching the chaos with cold calculation.

A wolf barreled toward the brown one with fangs bared, but Jeffery raised a hand and barked, "Hold!"

The voice cracked through the noise like thunder.

"Don’t fight with killing intent!" Jeffery warned, voice rough with urgency. "And no one is to harm the Alpha or his guest!"

Immediately, a pause spread like ripples across the field. Some wolves faltered in their attacks, sniffing the air—recognition dawning.

The black wolf’s scent had always been distinct. Iron and pine. Command and blood.

Their Alpha.

The wolves adjusted instantly. Their growls dulled into rumbles. Their attacks became more measured, defensive and strategic.

At that moment, Dennis strolled up beside Jeffery, arms folded, his smile smug.

"Now that’s what I call a good morning," he said, eyes glinting with amusement as the dust settled slightly. "You joining in?"

Jeffery didn’t blink. "Someone needs to keep the warriors from tearing out throats."

Dennis chuckled. "Fair enough. Still, this... this is the kind of chaos we’ve been needing."

On the battlefield, the clash intensified.

Draven—still in his wolf form—evaded a pair of wolves lunging at him, spun swiftly, and dragged his claws across the shoulder of one. The scent of blood filled the air.

Levi didn’t hold back either. The brown wolf slammed into a younger warrior and flipped him with a grunt. Another three came at him from the side. He ducked, twisted, and used the first wolf’s body to knock two others down.

It was no longer a spar. It was a storm.

Claws tore through the air. Blood splattered. Dust fogged everything.

Half an hour passed.

Finally, Jeffrey’s howl rang through the grounds. Sharp. Commanding. His hand slammed down on the iron war drum beside him, the thunderous beat echoing across the open space.

The fighting stopped. The wolves staggered, panting, eyes wild with the thrill.

One by one, they began shifting back.

Bones cracked. Fur receded. Bodies folded back into skin.

Warriors stood shirtless, their chests rising and falling heavily, blood streaking across arms and backs. Torn trousers. Dirt-covered legs. Bruised ribs. But grins—almost every one of them wore it.

Draven and Levi returned to their human forms last.

Both men stood, their bare torsos gleaming with sweat and smears of blood. Draven had a gash down his side, already closing. Levi had claw marks slashed across his chest—deeper, still faintly red—but he didn’t seem to mind.

They exchanged glances and then burst out laughing.

"That felt like the old days," Levi said, still breathing hard, running a hand through his damp hair.

"Minus the reckless teenage stupidity," Draven replied with a smirk, dragging his knuckles over his chin to wipe off a streak of blood. "Mostly."

"We should do this more often."

Draven gave a single nod. "Whenever we cross paths again."

By the time they stepped off the training ring, the blood on Draven’s body had dried and flaked away. The gash on his side was gone. Levi’s wounds had mostly healed—only one scar remained, stretched over his chest.

Dennis walked toward them, clapping.

"Now that," he grinned, "was beautiful. Raw, unhinged, violent—just the way I like my training sessions."

Draven snorted. "You looked too happy standing on the sidelines."

Dennis stepped between the two and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Tomorrow evening, I want a proper duel. Just you two. No warriors. No distractions."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "And what’s the prize?"

Dennis spread his arms like a showman. "A banquet. Anything you want to eat. On me."

Draven placed a hand flat on Dennis’s chest and pushed him gently. "That’s not a reward, that’s your attempt at bribery."

"But you’ll consider it?" Dennis asked, eyes gleaming.

Draven smirked and said nothing.

Then, the Alpha turned to the rest of the warriors standing nearby, still catching their breath.

"That, right there," he said, lifting his voice so all could hear, "is how the enemy will come. Fast. Without warning. No time to think. Only instincts."

He looked around, letting his gaze pass over the younger wolves especially.

"I liked your response," Draven continued. "Fast, clean, coordinated. But some of you made mistakes. Hesitations. Sloppy counters."

His eyes landed on a few, and he pointed them out—offering corrections without cruelty, only clarity.

"Next time," Draven added, voice low, "the enemy won’t be one of us."

Silence.

Then, he shifted slightly and waved toward the man beside him.

"This is Levi," he said. "Son of Elder Reginald Fellowes. He is my childhood friend and an elder brother to Wanda Fellowes. And as you already know, he is a seasoned warrior of Stormveil."

The warriors bowed slightly, offering respectful nods.

Levi folded his arms and grinned. "Don’t look so serious. I’m just here to stretch my muscles... and maybe bruise a few egos."

A few of the younger ones chuckled. The older warriors smiled knowingly.

The tension slowly faded from the air, leaving only the scent of sweat, victory, and a scattering of different thoughts.

---

Meanwhile, back inside the house, Wanda had a big smile plastered on her face, like she had won a trophy, as she climbed the stairs leading to the second floor.

It’s been weeks since she was this genuinely happy, not with Meredith daring her and getting away with it. And definitely not with Draven against her now.

Wanda had once suspected he had found out about her being behind Xamira’s cruel actions of pushing Meredith into the pool, but there was no proof.

Still, she had a deep, knowing feeling inside her; otherwise, how else would she explain his recent hostility?

At last, she could be happy because her big brother was in town. And amid the people who have temporarily turned out to be against her, she now had a backbone, someone she could rely on.

Just as Wanda got to the second floor, she saw Xamira’s nanny step out of her room and shut the door. And immediately, she turned and went back down the stairs in light steps.

She found a spot to hide and waited until Xamira’s nanny passed the place and headed for the ground floor, and only then did she step out of her hiding place.

Wanda climbed the stairs and returned to the second floor, and without any further delay, she matched towards Xamira’s bedroom.

"I know Draven put a visiting ban. But how is he going to find out that I secretly broke this rule? Who is going to tell him?" She smirked.

Wanda’s gaze landed on Xamira the second she stepped inside her room. The little girl laid on the bed with a small towel on her head. And she seemed to be fast asleep, her chest, rising and falling slowly.

"Oh, she seemed seriously sick." Wanda’s brows furrowed. She shut the door lightly and crossed the princess-themed bedroom.

Gently, she sat her ass down by Xamira’s bedside before reaching out to take the small towel away. Next, she placed the back of her hand on Xamira’s forehead and immediately felt a patch of hotness.

Her brows furrowed further.

Just then, Xamira’s eyes slowly fluttered open. The view in front of her was blurry at first, but slowly, her vision adjusted to reveal the familiar face right in front of her.

"You’re awake?" The corners of Wanda’s lips stretched into a smile as she leaned in properly.

The little girl’s face was pale. There was no light in her eyes. She looked so weak, vulnerable and pitiful.

Xamira didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly blinked and let out a soft sigh.

"I know you still have a fever, but how do you feel inside? Probably, hot right?"

Smiling, Wanda leaned away and dipped the towel inside the bowl of water on the nightstand. She lightly flexed her fingers as the chill from the water travelled through her nerves.

Then she wrung the excess water off the towel before placing it on Xamira’s forehead.

"I see you haven’t told anyone about that story like I had asked you to," she spoke, her tone light and casual.