The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 509

Chapter 509: From Her Lips

[Draven].

Meredith didn’t answer right away.

She lowered her head, her silver hair slipping forward to hide her face. I didn’t rush her. I let the silence breathe, even when I heard the faint hitch in her breath—one soft sniff she probably hoped I wouldn’t notice.

I noticed everything.

Rhovan stirred within me, alert but quiet. "Let her speak," he urged. "She is already bleeding."

I stayed where I was, hands resting on my knees, forcing myself not to reach for her. I had a weakness for her tears. I always had. And if I let myself move now, I knew I would soften too quickly.

After a moment, she lifted her head. Her eyes were glassy, but steady.

"I’m sorry," she said again, but this time she didn’t stop there. "I’m sorry for not telling you the things that happened to me recently... and instead letting you find out on your own."

I kept my expression neutral, even as something tight shifted in my chest.

"I’m sorry," she continued, her voice quieter now, more careful, "for making you feel less. And unimportant. For not letting you celebrate the wins with me."

The words landed. Every single one of them. And yet, they weren’t what I wanted.

I didn’t need apologies. I didn’t need guilt dressed up as remorse. What I needed was understanding.

I needed to know why she had chosen silence when she had always told me everything else.

I stayed quiet.

Rhovan nudged again, gentler this time. "Listen. Don’t interrupt."

Meredith seemed to take my silence as permission.

"There is more to me being able to wolf out," she said slowly. "My plan was to wait until we returned home, then explain everything to you properly. Because there is a lot."

The word ’home’ settled something uneasy inside me. She meant the Oatrun estate. She meant us.

She went on before I could respond.

"But knowing you had seen Valmora, knowing the betrayal you must have felt," she swallowed, "I thought it was wiser to come clean now. Even if it’s hard."

She met my eyes then, fully. "I’ve been keeping this secret my entire life."

I already knew what she was about to tell me.

I had pieced it together in fragments—through scent, through power, through the way the land itself responded to her.

Still, hearing it from her mattered more than any conclusion I had drawn on my own. So I remained silent and waited.

Her words landed slowly, one after another, like blows I didn’t brace for. "I’m not a full werewolf."

The world seemed to narrow to the sound of her voice.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, impatient with herself, then forced herself to continue.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I let her have the space she needed, even as the mate bond carried every sharp edge of her pain straight into my chest.

The word left carried more grief than she said aloud.

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