The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 82: Dennis is Attacked

~**(Third Person)**~

The forest was unnaturally quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that followed peace—but the kind that screamed of something lurking. Something wrong.

Draven moved through the undergrowth with sharp, soundless steps, his eyes scanning the shadowed path ahead. The scent was still strong—sharp, metallic, iron-rich.

Blood.

Dennis was only a few steps behind him, sniffing the air as well.

"Same direction?" Dennis asked quietly.

Draven nodded once, never breaking the stride. "It’s fresh. Maybe an hour old."

Draven and Dennis had been driving on the express when they perceived something wrong and decided it was a good idea to park their car by the road side and go into the woods to find out what it was.

The deeper they walked, the thicker the air became. Fog clung to the roots and hovered like a low whisper between the trees.

Then Draven halted. He turned toward his brother. "Let’s spread out. Cover more ground."

Dennis blinked. "You sure?"

"Yes. But not too far. If anything feels off—call."

Dennis gave a sharp nod. "Got it."

Draven added, his voice lower now, "Be alert, Dennis."

The brothers parted silently, fading into the woods in opposite directions.

Dennis moved quickly, his boots crunching lightly against the fallen leaves. His eyes flicked from branch to branch, every instinct in him prickling. The scent of blood was thicker here. Older bark had been stained crimson near the roots.

Then there was a sudden movement, a blur of motion behind him.

Dennis turned sharply, heart jumping. But he saw nothing.

Thinking it was just him, he exhaled. But the hairs on his neck remained upright.

Another second passed. And then—cold fingers wrapped around his throat from behind.

Dennis was slammed against a tree with bone-rattling force, the back of his head hitting bark.

A figure stood before him—tall, statuesque. His long black hair hung damp over sharp cheekbones, and his skin was almost luminescent in the moonlight, pale and without a blemish.

Blood streaked down the side of his arm like a forgotten decoration.

But it was the man’s eyes that locked Dennis in place—red. Not angry red. Hungry red.

"Let go—" Dennis choked, but the grip tightened.

The man’s fingers curled possessively under his jaw as if weighing his worth.

"You have a strong heart," he said coldly. "Almost perfect."

Dennis’s limbs jerked, struggling—but the pressure didn’t budge. His vision blurred.

Then, the man’s head tilted. He inhaled—deeply. A slow smile spread across his lips. His grip loosened slightly.

"You smell like one of us," the man said, curious now. "You were... with one of us."

Dennis wheezed, unable to respond, but fear flared behind his eyes.

From the distance—

"Dennis!" Draven’s voice thundered through the trees.

The red-eyed man’s grin widened. "Oops."

Dennis felt the pressure ease completely as the man leaned in one last time. "Seems like you are called Dennis, and I can’t have your heart today."

Draven’s voice grew louder. "Dennis!"

Draven burst through the trees, his eyes flaring wide at the scene—Dennis pinned, pale, blood on his neck, and the pale figure standing far too close.

"Get away from him!" Draven growled.

The red-eyed man turned his head lazily toward him. "That was fast," he muttered.

His eyes locked with Draven’s—cold amusement twinkling in their bloody depths.

Draven surged forward in a blur, claws half-shifted, ready to strike. But the man released Dennis in a fluid motion. His body blurred into a shadow, and then—he was gone.

Like mist caught in wind.

Dennis crumpled to the ground with a sharp cough, gasping for breath, his hands gripping the dirt.

"Brother!" Draven reached him, crouching immediately. His hands hovered over his brother’s frame, eyes scanning the blood smeared along his neck.

"Are you okay?"

Dennis coughed twice, voice rough and dry. "That’s... not my blood."

Draven froze for a beat. Then nodded and helped him sit up properly.

"I’m fine," Dennis said, rubbing his throat, his voice hoarse. "Just... winded."

"How did you know?" he asked after a moment. "That I was in danger?"

Draven exhaled through his nose, dark brows furrowed. "I stopped hearing your steps. Then Rhovan said something was wrong so I followed your scent."

Dennis turned his head, breath catching. "Thank you, Rhovan," he muttered between coughs.

Draven’s gaze didn’t leave him. "Tell me what happened. Did that thing say anything to you?"

Dennis gave a slow nod and explained how he was attacked. "... Then he said... I was with one of them. Then smiled like it meant something."

He paused. "His grip was like steel. I didn’t even hear him coming."

Draven’s expression darkened, jaw locking.

Dennis stared up at him. "Brother... do you know what that thing was?"

Draven’s gaze moved toward the trees, following the trail where the man had vanished.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It seemed to be a vampire."

Dennis’s body stiffened. He scrambled to his feet, still shaky, but Draven caught him quickly and steadied him.

"Vampires?" Dennis whispered, voice now laced with fear. "They still exist?"

Draven nodded grimly. "It looks like it now."

He stared at the forest again, eyes narrowing. "And now... at least we know what’s been killing our people. Taking their hearts."

The woods whispered back nothing, but both brothers knew—they weren’t alone in those trees anymore.

---

Draven and Dennis emerged from the edge of the woods, the trees finally giving way to the gravel path where their black SUV sat parked beneath the flickering security lamp.

Dennis winced as he leaned against a tree, still catching his breath. His shirt was torn at the collar, and red smudged the side of his neck like an ugly brand.

Draven glanced at him, then at the short walk left to the car.

"You sure you’re good to walk?"

Dennis nodded stiffly, then hissed as he took a step. "Define ’good’."

Draven stepped beside him and held out an arm. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Dennis rolled his eyes so hard they nearly stayed stuck. "If you are itching to carry someone princess-style, go find your wife."

Draven smirked, lowering his arm. "Suit yourself."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the only sound being the steady crunch of gravel under their boots and Dennis’s labored breathing.

But when they reached the car, Draven opened the passenger door without a word and waited.

Dennis glanced at him. "Still being gentlemanly, huh?"

"Just making sure you don’t fall on your face."

Dennis grunted as he sank into the seat, his body groaning in protest. "Yeah. Thanks."

Draven shut the door gently, then walked around the hood to the driver’s side.

The engine started with a low rumble, and the headlights carved twin paths through the mist.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. But the air between them was no longer heavy with fear. Only with questions. And the silence of things no one was ready to say yet.

What did the vampire mean by Dennis was with one of them?