The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 4: Because I Didn’t Want It To

A sense of total numbness had claimed my body.

It persisted as I retreated from the ballroom, escorted by my family as if I were a common captive. It remained while the whispers of fellow wolves rippled through the air behind me, heavy with shock, disdain, and a morbid fascination. Even when my father’s fingers clamped onto my arm—exerting enough force to bruise, or perhaps even snap bone had he chosen to—I felt nothing but a hollow void.

He had remained idle whenever I faced bullying, humiliation, or mockery. Yet, the moment Draven Oatrun marked me as his own, he finally bridged the distance to seize my arm. Not as a jest, nor a mistake. But as his future wife.

As we departed the Lunar Ball prematurely, his silence hung heavy in the air. For the first time all evening, I hadn't simply disgraced myself; I had mortified him and the entirety of our pack.

I had become the focal point, drawing the gaze of high-ranking pack leaders, elders, and the future Alpha King himself. My father’s patience had clearly expired.

I remained trapped between lingering humiliation, rising anger, and the encroaching shadow of fear, knowing this night was far from over. A severe punishment was inevitable.

---

The return trip to our family estate felt suffocating, an ordeal almost too heavy to endure.

Silence reigned; there was no need for words. My father’s fury manifested as a palpable, suffocating force inside the Mercedes van, cold and unyielding.

Beside him, my mother sat with her lips pressed into a thin line. She had offered no defense for me since that wretched day of my curse, and she certainly wouldn't start now.

My older sisters, Monique and Mabel, exchanged knowing glances from behind our parents, amusement occasionally dancing in their eyes. They appeared entirely indifferent to my presence beside them; after all, I was merely their latest amusement.

Our brother, Gary, gripped the wheel, accompanied by one of our family's bodyguards in the passenger seat.

Gary’s gaze repeatedly darted to the rearview mirror, finding mine on several occasions. A sneer etched itself deep into his features. I promptly averted my eyes, clutching my tattered veil against my chest to avoid the heat of his hateful stare.

My stomach churned, bile rising to the back of my throat. My inhalations grew ragged.

This was destined to be an agonizingly long night.

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MOONSTONE PACK.

The Carter Estate.

The instant the vehicle came to a halt in the driveway, my father jerked the door open, fixing a murderous glare upon me.

“Get out!” he commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, casting a brief glance at my sisters, who should have led the way. That was a grave error.

His hand lunged outward, gripping my arm with iron force.

White-hot pain surged up to my shoulder as he hauled me from the vehicle, his hold tight enough to make my bones protest. My veil slipped from my fingers, settling into the dirt as I stumbled to match his pace.

My father dragged me toward the front doors, ignoring the curious eyes of the guards stationed around the estate perimeter.

My disgrace was a common spectacle here, so no one felt the need to intervene or rescue me. True to their nature, they preferred to observe and relish in my misery.

My mother and siblings followed at a relaxed pace. Their purpose was not to intervene but to serve as an audience to my pain.

Once the heavy doors were locked, my father’s shout echoed through the entrance hall.

“What in the Goddess’s name have you done?!”

I had no time to brace for impact before his palm connected with my face.

CRACK!

Agony flared across my cheek, my head snapping to the side as the world filled with a deafening buzz in my right ear. I suspect my hearing will be impaired for quite some time.

I instinctively brought my hand to my tingling cheek, sensing the iron tang of blood. I lacked the courage to raise my head, dreading another strike.

“Gabriel!” my mother’s voice rang out, eerily calm. I held my breath, frozen.

My father pivoted, his scowl deepening. “What?” he barked, his impatience evident.

A profound silence stretched before my mother spoke again. “Do not strike her face.”

A cold knot formed in my gut as my siblings stood stunned.

I tilted my head up, a spark of something like hope flickering to life for the first time in years. Then, she added, “The wound will reopen, and we will be forced to squander our herbs to seal it again.”

The hope withered instantly.

I felt a strange sense of detachment realizing that my mother’s cold indifference was preferable to any twisted form of genuine concern.

My father shifted his furious gaze back to me before finally taking a seat. My siblings, however, remained entirely unbothered, showing no sympathy whatsoever.

“Kneeling!” my father ordered, his eyes ignited with rage. I dropped to my knees before him, bowing my head and clasping my trembling fingers together.

“You are a profound disappointment and a complete disgrace to both our family and the pack!” he roared, jabbed a finger mere inches from my nose. “I explicitly warned you against removing your veil!”

“And Father, I cautioned her to suppress her pathetic pheromones!” Gary interjected, looming over me with his towering frame. “Look at the chaos she caused tonight, seducing nearly every man in sight!”

“And this followed her rejection by her mate,” Monique added with a sneer. Mabel quickly followed, piling on the accusations.

“As if that weren't enough shame, she chose to be claimed by the future King as though it were some grand achievement,” Mabel spat, her voice dripping with venom.

Gary cuffed me, his blow sharp and sudden. “The cursed wretch finally snagged an Alpha—it’s a shame she’s too dense to realize she’s destined to be nothing more than his plaything.”

I clenched my fingers so tightly my knuckles turned ivory. It was the only outlet for my rage, as I struggled to fully grasp the weight of his cruel words.

Monique scoffed from behind my father. “Look at her,” she muttered, “actually believing she possesses any worth.”

Mabel sighed with theatrical annoyance. “I predicted that she would eventually ruin our reputation.”

My father’s breath came in ragged gasps as he rose. His hands shook at his sides, not with remorse, but from barely suppressed fury. His voice turned deathly cold.

“You have brought shame upon this house,” he hissed, pacing like a beast in a cage.

I curled my nails into my palms. Silence was my only armor.

“You were already a stain on this name,” he continued, his tone wretched with disgust. “A wolfless, cursed failure. And now, you’ve turned yourself into a public carnival act.”

I swallowed the desperate denial I longed to scream—that this was never my intention, that the fault was not mine. That he, my mother, my kin, and my mate had all collectively decided I was worthless solely because of this curse. But I knew better than to vocalize such defiance.

His hate-filled glare chilled me to the marrow. In his eyes, I saw clearly that he regretted the day of my birth.

“First, your mate rejects you. Then, you make a mockery of us with those foul pheromones. And now, you allow Draven in to claim you?” he interrogated.

I didn't 'allow' Draven to claim me. He had decided unilaterally and without hesitation, and I had clearly verbalized my resistance. But the truth was irrelevant to my father, who viewed me as a liability regardless of the facts.

Preparing for another physical blow, I flinched, but my father simply turned to my mother and uttered the sentence I feared most.

“Confine her to the poultry shed!”

My heart sank. The poultry shed—the wretched place where I was sent whenever my existence became an inconvenience to my family.

Dark, frigid, and teeming with squalor.

My mother hesitated, her gaze darting briefly toward me. “Gabriel, perhaps— ”

“I said do it!” my father barked. My mother immediately nodded, replying, “Yes, dear.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she grasped my wrist.

I offered no resistance, as I long ago learned that fighting only invited further suffering.

Thus, I allowed her to escort me outside, past the main dwelling and toward the dilapidated wooden structure at the rear of the estate.

The air grew thick with the scent of stagnant hay and the musty remnants of long-gone poultry. I stepped into the shadows without a word. The door swung shut, and I heard the click of the lock.

For the first time, I couldn't help but dwell on Alpha Draven’s pledge and the terrifying truth that he would return for me tomorrow.

“I cannot fathom why that injury has refused to close for months!” my mother hissed in irritation, shattering my focus before she turned away.

Left in the dark, I reached up, my fingertips brushing the scar on my left cheek—the wound that steadfastly refused to heal.

Because I had no desire for it to mend.

Because it remained the singular facet of my existence over which I still held any control.