The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 464: She Can Stand Up for Herself

[Third Person].

Before Dennis could answer, Levi leaned forward, smiling warmly.

"Just celebrating that we are all in the same place again. It’s been years since we met like this."

Oscar nodded in agreement.

Dennis lifted his goblet high. "To growth, to survival, to brotherhood, and to our Alpha’s return."

Goblets clinked around the table.

Vivian smiled. Jeffery raised his glass with discipline. Oscar tapped Dennis’s goblet with affectionate annoyance. Levi grinned.

Draven gave a small but genuine nod.

Even Meredith raised her goblet, though she had never been part of their childhood circle.

She understood the bond—how close they all were, like brothers forged in the same flame.

Wanda, meanwhile, lifted her glass with an almost triumphant ease. Because for this one sliver of a moment, she belonged in a way Meredith and Vivian did not.

This circle—Draven, Levi, Jeffery, Oscar, Dennis—was her world long before Meredith ever existed. And Wanda silently vowed it would never change.

Lunch began soon after.

Oscar turned to Levi. "So... when did you arrive?"

Levi chuckled. "Yesterday. I heard Draven had finally returned, so I thought surprising him would be a good idea."

Dennis snorted. "Except you were the one who got surprised—Draven wasn’t even home when you arrived."

Levi laughed at himself, and Oscar joined in.

Wanda leaned in slightly, her voice teasing but warm. "Next time, my brother will plan his surprises better. This is Draven we’re talking about—proper planning is required."

Levi grinned, shaking his head. "Go on and laugh at me. Just don’t expect me to admit defeat."

Their laughter mingled easily.

Through it all, Meredith remained quiet, composed, eating lightly. She lifted small forks of braised vegetables, listening to their conversation without attempting to insert herself.

Draven finished cutting his own portion of lamb neatly, efficiently—and then, without a word, he picked up his plate.

Meredith glanced up just as he exchanged hers with his—her uncut meat for his perfectly sliced one.

A smile eased onto her lips, soft and natural. "Thank you."

He didn’t smile back, but amusement warmed his eyes. "Eat. It’s juicy."

Meredith nodded and did exactly that.

Wanda watched the exchange from across the table, her hand tightening around her fork.

Because in that quiet, effortless gesture—something small, intimate, instinctive—Draven had shown Meredith a type of attention Wanda had chased for years and never once received.

And it stung.

And as if she hadn’t seen enough to shatter her heart into a million pieces, she watched the way Draven leaned slightly toward Meredith once again, his attention sharpening as though the rest of the table had vanished.

Then he poured a generous spoonful of rich gravy over her sliced meat, the motion smooth and natural.

"Try it," he murmured. "You will like this one."

Meredith did. And the subtle softening of her eyes confirmed she enjoyed it.

Without waiting, Draven added a bit more sauce to her plate.

The entire table went quiet, every gaze drifting toward them. But Draven didn’t care, not even a fraction. In fact, he didn’t even seem aware of the attention.

His focus was exclusively on the woman beside him.

Vivian’s smile blossomed, warm and genuinely delighted. "It is truly rare," she said softly, "to see a man of Alpha Draven’s position tend to his wife with such attention. It speaks volumes."

Wanda nearly choked on her wine. ’Shut up, Vivian.’

Her fingers twitched around her goblet. She imagined for a heartbeat, wrapping her hands around Vivian’s throat and squeezing until the woman stopped smiling.

The urge dissolved only when Dennis chuckled from Meredith’s other side.

"Oh, Vivian," Dennis said in his usual teasing drawl, "you haven’t seen anything yet. This is mild."

Then he waved a hand vaguely. "Back in Duskmoor, his public display of affection almost killed me. I swear I needed counselling."

Vivian laughed lightly.

Dennis continued, dramatically wounded. "And as if he hasn’t tormented me enough, now that we’re back home, I’m subjected to daily suffering."

Meredith exhaled slowly, then turned just enough to give Dennis a glance.

The table stilled. And then—for the first time, she responded to his teasing.

"As a single," Meredith said evenly, "you can never relate."

Silence settled in the hall. One heartbeat. Two. Then the table erupted.

Levi laughed. Oscar nearly spilt his drink. Jeffery’s composed façade cracked. Even Vivian covered her mouth, giggling.

Wanda’s laugh was late—forced, brittle, cracking at the edges. But she kept the smile stretched on her face because she had no choice.

Just now, she had felt a jab from Meredith’s comment. After all, she was single, too. And for most of it, she was the one being seriously tortured by them.

Dennis pressed a hand to his chest with his eyes on Meredith. "I see you’ve started taking comeback lessons from my brother."

Draven casually pointed his fork at Dennis. "You had it coming. Next time, don’t tease my wife."

More laughter rolled around the table.

Dennis said to Meredith with a dramatic pout. "I thought we were friends."

Meredith met his gaze with calm, steady eyes. "I thought we were friends, too."

Levi laughed again, shaking his head. "Looks like you finally pushed the Luna to stand up for herself."

Dennis sighed heavily. "Which means I’m doomed. I can’t even bully her kindly anymore. She doesn’t need Draven to strike back—she can do it herself."

Draven’s gaze slid proudly toward Meredith.

And Wanda... Wanda felt her pulse hammering because this moment—this stupid, ordinary, warm moment—showed one thing clearly:

That Meredith wasn’t an outsider anymore. She was one of them.

Wanda’s blood boiled. She could no longer stand the laughter, the warmth, and the easy solidarity with Meredith in the middle of it.

Her nails pressed into her palm beneath the tablecloth as she forced a light, airy tone.

"Well," she said smoothly, lifting her chin, "at least Dennis’s sharp tongue might finally find some eternal rest."

Then she raised her glass toward him. "You’re going to learn the hard way."

She took a long sip—too long to be elegant, but she made it look intentional.

Dennis arched a brow, unimpressed.

"You think I’m the only one with a problem?" he shot back casually, swirling the wine in his glass. "Don’t worry. Someone who will deal with you is coming."

Wanda laughed, a low scoff sliding past her lips. "Let them come. I will be waiting. But for now—" she leaned back in her chair with a smirk, "I will enjoy watching you get roasted."

A few amused smiles circled the table as Vivian hid a giggle behind her goblet.

But Meredith simply observed. Draven wasn’t paying attention at all, while Jeffery’s protective instincts never truly relaxed.

Meanwhile, Dennis was still nursing his wounded pride and lifted his glass in defeat. "Fine. Laugh, all of you."

Wanda only smirked wider, but inside, the bitterness simmered hotter.