The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 207: Reflections

Rhovan’s voice again—calm, unwavering, as if this was some trivial thing, like shifting forms or giving a simple order.

I stiffened. "

Rhovan countered, his voice tightening just slightly. "

" I hissed internally, grinding my teeth as I cut into the edge of my muffin, not bothering to eat it.

Rhovan said, "

That hit a nerve.

Rhovan said with a sigh. "

he said firmly. "

My grip on my utensils faltered for half a second.

Rhovan continued, relentless now. "

I growled inwardly, "

Rhovan snapped. "

I clenched my jaw and exhaled hard through my nose, ignoring the way my heart thudded at those words.

Rhovan said, gentler now. "

I shot back. "

There was a long pause.

Rhovan didn’t argue further. He just sighed—long, slow, disappointed—and went quiet.

The silence in my head was louder than ever. How could Rhovan say that I am the one who will lose the most in the end?

Meredith is the one who needs me. She begged me to train her, and in due time, she will find her way to my bedroom or my office.

And what did Rhovan say again about me having to tame my ego?

Seeing how Meredith was eating without a care in the world just to have the satisfaction of seeing me taunted while I could barely have a bite, I seriously doubted I was the one with pride issues.

She had to be the one.

---

A few minutes later, I stood from the table without another word.

Behind me, I heard Dennis scrape his chair back.

"Brother," he said as he rose to his feet. "I need a word with you."

I didn’t pause. "Follow me."

Without glancing Meredith’s way, I exited the hall, footsteps hard against the polished floor as Dennis fell in beside me. He knew better than to crack one of his usual lighthearted comments. My mood was nothing close to tolerable.

I pushed open the door to my office, letting him step in behind me, then led us both toward the sitting area. I dropped into the corner of the sofa with a stiff exhale. Dennis took the opposite end.

I turned to him. "Well? Speak."

Dennis folded his arms and looked straight at me. "I’ve noticed something, and frankly, so has everyone else in this house. You and your wife haven’t been in good terms for two weeks now, and the tension is thick enough to slice with a knife."

I frowned. "And that’s supposed to be your business, how, exactly? I have an issue with Meredith. Not with anyone else."

"Yeah, and that issue is strong enough to rob everyone else of their peace," Dennis shot back. "Even the servants are walking on eggshells."

I grunted but said nothing.

"And if we’re being honest," he continued, "shouldn’t Meredith be the one mad at you? She’s got a justifiable reason to be."

My eyes narrowed. My gut told me something then—something I didn’t like. "Wait... Meredith hasn’t told you what she did to me?"

Dennis blinked, confused. "No. What are you talking about?"

I scoffed and leaned back. "I thought she was your friend. Yet, she didn’t trust you enough to tell you she’s been hiding something this important. I guess I’m not the only one she betrayed."

Dennis shrugged. "I don’t feel betrayed. Even though I don’t know what it is she hid from me, I know Meredith. If she kept something, it wasn’t for malicious reasons."

My smirk faltered. I had half expected him to be as indignant as I was—maybe even jump to my side. But clearly, I stood alone on this one.

It felt bad to see that my brother seemed to know my wife better than I did. That left a sour taste in my mouth.

Dennis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That’s not what I came here for anyway. I’m here because of what you did to her. You let Wanda—someone you knew hated her—train her. That was a bad call, brother. A really bad call."

I frowned. "I was trying to help her. She needed to understand what a real enemy would do, how a true threat would fight. She leaves herself too open—"

"Your intentions might have been good," Dennis interrupted, "but your methods? Horrible."

His eyes locked onto mine. "How would you feel if she—Meredith—teamed up with your worst enemy to teach you a ’valuable lesson’? What if she conspired behind your back, claiming it would help you learn something?"

I didn’t answer. I didn’t like where this was going.

Dennis pressed, "You can’t answer that, can you? Because it’s all shades of wrong, Draven."

I ground my jaw, but his words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. A part of me wanted to reject it, to stand firm in my reasoning—but he was putting me in her shoes now, and the fit was uncomfortable.

Dennis sighed. "The way you feel right now—violated, insulted, betrayed—it’s exactly how she felt. You handed her over to someone who wanted to break her, and from what I heard, you stood there and watched."

I looked away, silence tightening around my throat like a collar.

Dennis softened, but his tone was still firm. "Fix it. Go to her. Explain yourself. Apologize. Then, if you still want to address what she did, do it. But not before you own your part."

---

As soon as Dennis took his leave and the door clicked shut behind him, the room was too quiet.

I sat there, unmoving, staring at the corner of the floor like it might give me a better answer than the one Dennis just handed to my face.

For all my dominance, for all my clarity as a leader... I had messed up.

I had wronged Meredith.

And not just in the way a man wrongs a woman, but in the way a husband betrays a bond.

I had exposed her to her enemy.

I had made her feel small. I’d dismissed her pain for the sake of a lesson.

Rhovan didn’t even need to speak. His silence was heavy and judgmental.

I leaned back against the sofa, ran a hand down my face, then let it slide into my hair, fingers dragging through the long strands.

A low sigh rumbled out of my chest. Not frustration. Not even anger anymore.

Just... confusion.

How the hell was I supposed to go to her now?

What would I even say?

The thought of walking up to Meredith—head down, voice soft—and admitting I was wrong made my jaw tighten.

I wasn’t the type of man who apologized easily.

Not because I lacked remorse, but because I believed in the power of control. In structure. In authority.

And asking for forgiveness would mean loosening my grip on all of that.

It would bruise my pride.

I corrected myself. It would shatter it.

But hadn’t I already shattered something far more precious? That wild light she used to have when she looked at me—burning with challenge but soft with trust—had dimmed because of me.

I exhaled again, slower this time.

She would only grow more spoiled if I kept tolerating her every rebellion, right? That’s what I told myself that I needed to rein her in, not indulge her.

But wasn’t that the same flawed thinking that put me here?

No one had ever tested my patience the way Meredith did. Not even the humans, with all their betrayals and wicked schemes, had gotten under my skin like she had.