The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven

Chapter 196: Beaten and Battered

Meredith.

I could hear it in his voice—the finality, the threat.

My vision blurred with the heat behind my eyes. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.

How could he? How could he do this to me—of all people?

Didn’t he know?

Didn’t he see what this meant?

Valmora’s silence was deafening. I couldn’t even ask her what to do—she was hidden now, pressed deep inside me, away from Draven’s senses.

I swallowed the ache clawing up my throat.

In that single breath, I felt smaller than I had felt in months. But somewhere under the humiliation, something burned—hot and defiant.

Slowly, I turned back around to face them.

Wanda’s expression was everything I had expected.

Smug satisfaction curled at her lips, her chin lifted a little higher. Her eyes glittered with triumph.

Even through my burning shame, I understood something. Wanda didn’t do this to help me. She did it because of what I did to her.

The punch I had landed, the blood I had drawn, the humiliation I had handed her in front of the servants.

I steadied my breath, swallowing back the bitterness.

I should have walked away. But I stayed.

Maybe because Draven’s threat was still etched deep at the back of my head. Or maybe because my stubborn pride wouldn’t let me run from Wanda.

But the moment the training started, regret hit me like a slap.

Wanda’s first blow came fast and sharp, burying itself into my ribs before I could even raise an arm to block it.

Pain flared white-hot, tearing a raw cry from my throat as I staggered backward, clutching my side.

Wanda tilted her head, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, dear. That wasn’t even fifty percent of my strength."

Her words stung as much as the punch.

I forced myself upright, my teeth grinding so hard my jaw ached. My eyes locked on hers, burning with hate.

But hate wasn’t enough.

The next minutes were a blur of pain and humiliation.

Wanda’s strikes were quick, elegant, and impossibly precise. Every time I thought I saw an opening—she slipped away like smoke, only to return with another blow.

Sometimes I dodged, barely. More often, I didn’t.

A fist grazed my cheekbone; a sharp kick caught my thigh, numbing it.

Every hit felt like a reminder: you shouldn’t have messed with me. And you’re nothing compared to me.

From the edge of the grounds, I heard Draven’s voice—calm but edged with disapproval. "Are you training her, Wanda—or trying to beat her senseless just to prove a point?"

Wanda turned to him, smiling sweetly as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. "Forgive me, Alpha," she purred. "I got carried away."

For one foolish heartbeat, hope sparked in my chest.

Then Wanda’s gaze returned to me, colder than ever. She changed her strategy. Her fists landed softer, but her tongue cut deeper.

"Is this how you will lead when Draven becomes King?" she taunted, circling me like a predator.

Her words stabbed deeper than any punch.

"A Queen who can’t even defend herself."

And then—before I could brace—her leg snapped up, catching my shoulder.

The impact sent me sprawling back, my arms flailing uselessly as the world tilted.

I tasted blood on my tongue as I pushed to my feet, limbs trembling. Wanda’s sneer hooked at the corner of her mouth.

"You’re lucky I didn’t kick your pretty face," she drawled. "But since I’m training you, I have to hold back."

"Training my foot," I spat under my breath, breath ragged.

But Wanda wasn’t done.

She lunged forward, catching me completely off guard, and before I knew it, the ground slammed into my back.

Air whooshed from my lungs as pain bloomed across my spine.

Then she did it again.

And again.

Each time felt easier for her, as though I weighed nothing at all.

By the third time, I couldn’t get up fast enough. My chest heaved, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. My ribs burned, each breath scraping like broken glass.

Wanda stood over me, breathing evenly, looking down at me like I was something pathetic stuck to her boot.

Somewhere in the chaos, humiliation twisted into rage. noveldrama

Yesterday morning, I’d felt strong and confident. After punching her at breakfast, I thought maybe I really had grown stronger.

But standing here now, bruised, breathless, and utterly overpowered, I realized the truth: I wasn’t stronger.

Yesterday was pure luck. Wanda had been caught off guard, nothing more.

I couldn’t even touch her now, not even a strand of her hair.

Fury burned hot in my chest, but it couldn’t move my limbs fast enough.

Wanda flipped me again, and as I lay there, gasping, the pain seeping into my bones, something sharp pricked behind my eyes.

I’m nothing. Just like she said.

Tears gathered in my lashes, blurring Wanda’s shape.

I tried to call out to Valmora, desperate for a whisper of her calm power—but silence answered me.

She was gone. Completely hidden—as if she wasn’t the one who gave me the confidence to throw a punch at Wanda.

I was alone now. And in that distraction, Wanda’s final blow came.

Her fist slammed into my nose, a sickening crack echoing in my skull.

White-hot pain exploded across my face.

My hand flew up, clutching my nose as blood gushed warm over my fingers. My vision swam.

Only then did Draven’s voice cut through, sharp and cold: "That was uncalled for."

Wanda shrugged, her voice dripping false innocence. "I didn’t mean to, Alpha."

Liar.

My chest heaved as I blinked through tears, my nose throbbing with each shaky breath.

Wanda had waited for this very moment.

She wanted to return the humiliation I had given her yesterday—and she had succeeded.

I tasted blood and bitterness.

My head spun from pain and fury.

And in that moment, I hated them all: Wanda for her cruelty, Draven for allowing this, and Valmora for abandoning me when I needed her most.

My tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood on my lips.

I wanted to scream, to tear Wanda apart with my bare hands—but my trembling body wouldn’t obey.

Instead, I stood there, broken nose, burning ribs, and all.

Humiliated.

Defeated.

And utterly alone.