The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 514

Chapter 514: Do Not Return

[Third Person].

Meredith was hurled upward, breaking the surface in a violent gasp, coughing as air tore back into her lungs.

Her body shook, and her vision swam.

"Meredith!"

The voice reached her too late.

Her eyes found the riverbank just as the strength left her completely, and darkness closed in.

At the same time, Draven, who had reached the river at a full sprint, felt dread hollowing out his chest as his gaze locked onto the water.

"Meredith!"

He didn’t slow down or even show any hesitation. The next second, he plunged into the river, the cold biting hard as he fought the current, following the bond’s faint, flickering pull.

His hand brushed her fabric, then her hair, before he seized her and hauled her limp body against his chest.

"No—no—stay with me," he breathed, panic clawing at his throat as he kicked toward the surface.

He dragged her onto the riverbank, his hands shaking as he laid her down. Meredith’s skin was cold, and her lips pale.

"Meredith," Draven said again, his voice breaking as he cradled her face. "Please."

The bond pulsed weakly; it was barely still there. But Draven didn’t stop.

His hands moved instinctively, rhythm steady despite the tremor in his arms as he pressed against Meredith’s chest, then tilted her head to keep her airway open.

Water spilt from her lips as he breathed for her, his forehead resting briefly against hers between attempts.

"Come on," he murmured, voice rough. "Breathe, Meredith. Stay with me."

Her body was too cold. But just then—

"Edith."

The familiar old voice cut through the panic like a blade wrapped in velvet.

Draven looked up sharply. Meredith’s grandmother stood a few paces away, her walking stick planted firmly in the earth as two unfamiliar women flanked her, both silent, both tense with urgency.

She moved toward them without hesitation. "How is she?" she asked.

"Her breathing is shallow," Draven replied immediately, tightening his hold around Meredith as if the answer itself might steal her away. "She was pulled under. I—she isn’t responding."

Meredith’s grandmother nodded once, as if she had already known. Then she turned sharply to the two women. "Quick. Set the fire."

Draven barely registered the command as his focus returned to his wife’s face.

Behind him, the women moved quickly, gathering fallen wood and arranging it with practised ease.

Meanwhile, Meredith’s grandmother stepped closer to the water. She straightened her stance as she tightened her grip around her walking stick.

"How dare you," she said, her voice carrying—not loud, but heavy. "How dare you touch my bloodline?"

The river answered almost immediately.

Draven felt it before he fully saw it—the water twisting unnaturally, pulling into itself, swirling as if something beneath had been disturbed. The surface churned in a slow, tightening spiral.

Draven’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything like this in his entire life.

Just then, Meredith’s grandmother lifted her stick. "Go," she commanded the river. "And do not return."

She struck the ground, and the sound cracked through the clearing. Immediately, the spiral surged outward like a retreating tide, racing downriver, the surface settling with eerie obedience.

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