The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 190

Chapter 190: Wanda’s Revenge Plan

(Third Person).

~Alpha Draven’s Estate~

Wanda stood rigid by the long dining table, blood seeping warmly between her fingers, staining the white serviette she had hastily grabbed.

Her gaze locked on the doorway where Meredith had disappeared moments ago, her heart hammering in a violent staccato of rage and humiliation.

The servant nearest to her, a young woman who had stepped forward with a fresh, warm towel, trembled visibly under Wanda’s glare.

In a flash of blind anger, Wanda slapped the towel from the maid’s hand, her voice slicing through the tense air.

"Get away from me!"

The servant stumbled back, eyes wide with fear.

Wanda’s gaze swept over the remaining servants still frozen by the walls.

"Out!" she barked, her voice cracking. "All of you, out!"

They scurried from the room, skirts rustling, heads bowed so low they nearly brushed their knees.

Silence fell, heavy and absolute.

With her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached, Wanda peeled the serviette from her face and studied the smear of blood on it. Her own blood.

She hissed under her breath. "Meredith... you worthless little bitch..."

Fury coiled inside her, hot and restless.

She stormed out of the dining hall, her shoes echoing sharply against the stone floors. Up the grand staircase to the second floor, then down the corridor until she reached her bedroom.

She shoved the door open and strode directly into the bathroom.

Cold water roared from the marble faucet as she bent over the sink, cupping water and splashing it on her face.

Blood swirled down the drain, pink at first, then fading to clear.

Wanda raised her head to the mirror. A thin, angry bruise was already forming under her left eye, and her nose was swollen, discoloured, and aching sharply.

Then came a small, sickening crack as bone realigned, sending a burst of pain so intense she had to grip the sink to steady herself.

Breathing heavily, Wanda stared into her own reflection.

Fury pulsed in every heartbeat.

She replayed it again: Meredith’s hand in her hair. The slam into the plate. The punch—quick, clean, humiliating.

Meredith. The cursed, wolfless, useless young woman she thought was nothing... had dared to lay hands on her. And worse, had succeeded.

Wanda’s nails curled against the marble, scraping faint white lines.

"I underestimated you, didn’t I?" she whispered to her reflection, voice sharp as broken glass.

It had to be Draven’s training. And she had underestimated Meredith, mocking her even.

Rage twisted into something darker.

Draven hadn’t wasted his time training Meredith, and now, Meredith had become bold—too bold.

Wanda stepped back, cold water dripping down her chin.

"What gave you the courage to even think you could touch me?" she whispered bitterly.

She knew she couldn’t let this pass.

Meredith had to be reminded of her place. Of who truly held power here.

Thoughts flickered, plans forming. A lesson. A punishment that would leave its mark.

Slowly, Wanda walked back into her room and sat on the edge of her bed, the towel still pressed to her bruised nose. Her eyes narrowed as a dangerous thought crystallized.

A private session. Just Meredith and her. In the name of training, of course. Draven wouldn’t suspect.

Wanda’s breath quickened, pulse fluttering with anticipation at the idea of making Meredith beg, cry out, break under her.

She would teach Meredith what happened to wolves—or even cursed half-wolves-who stepped above their station.

She rose abruptly from the bed, tossing the blood-stained towel aside.

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