The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 331

Chapter 331: No Shadows Will Be Left For Them

Third Person.

The night was slick with rain, the road gleaming under the headlights of Brackham’s armoured vehicle.

Inside, crates rattled with guns, bullets, and explosives—the precious cargo Brackham had demanded.

In the shadows, Dennis crouched with six men at his back. The faint human scent Meredith had prepared for them clung to their collars, disguising them in the night.

No one would guess they were wolves.

"Remember," Dennis whispered, his voice sharp but steady. "No claws. No blood. Take them down, take the weapons, and vanish."

The truck slowed at the bend, right where they had been waiting. In a flash, the wolves moved, but tonight, they weren’t beasts but rather men in the dark.

A guard barely had time to shout before Dennis slammed him into the side of the vehicle, knocking him cold without a mark.

Another was tripped, gagged, and dragged into the ditch, unconscious before he could lift his weapon. Fists, elbows, and precision strikes were silent and efficient.

There were no snarls or howls, just the thud of bodies hitting wet pavement.

Within minutes, the back doors of the vehicle yawned open. Crates were lifted out and passed hand to hand, swallowed by the night without a shot being fired and any trace left.

Rain began to fall harder, washing away footprints, covering their tracks. By the time the driver stumbled out and called into the dark, Dennis and his men were already gone, melting into the trees with the stolen cargo.

The attack had lasted less than five minutes. To Brackham’s men, it would look like shadows had swallowed their weapons whole.

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The rain hadn’t stopped by the time Draven got off the phone. Then, with a small smile plastered on the corner of his lips, he turned to Meredith.

"You look like you have some good news to share," she said, putting her book down next to her on the sofa. "What is it?’

"Dennis is back," he announced, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Come with me. We are going to see the goods."

Meredith’s eyes widened. Then, without asking any further questions, she rose to her feet, falling into step beside him as he led her through the silent corridors, then across the cobbled courtyard where rain dripped from the eaves.

The night air smelled of wet stone and pine, sharp enough to sting her lungs.

They stopped at the old horse shed, its heavy doors shut against the storm. Two guards stood discreetly nearby, but none dared glance at her.

Draven pushed the door open, and inside, the air was thick with hay, leather, and the faint metallic tang of weapons.

Lanterns hung low, their light casting long shadows across stacked crates. Jeffery was already there, sleeves rolled up, prying open one of the lids with a crowbar.

"Everything made it back clean, Alpha" Jeffery reported, glancing up at his Alpha. "There are no prints or trails. Dennis handled it well."

Draven stepped forward, lifting a black case from the pile. He unlatched it with deliberate care, revealing rows of glinting rounds nestled in foam—the kind of ammunition Brackham had been stockpiling.

His hand lingered on the cold steel, but his gaze shifted toward Meredith who strode closer with curiosity, unease and pride warring in her chest.

These weren’t herbs or salves she could read at a glance—they were weapons of war, cold and foreign in her eyes. Yet Jeffery’s words echoed like a balm.

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