Chapter 13: Draven Stands Up for Me
Meredith.
The voice slithered into my mind again. "Do it. Flip the table. Let them know they can’t humiliate you without consequences."
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table, my breath shallow. I could feel the strange push within me, urging me forward. It wasn’t rage—at least, not just rage. It was something more. Something deeper. Something powerful.
The laughter in the room continued. The whispered insults reached my ears. The humiliation curled like a vine around my heart.
"They deserve it," the voice pressed. "Show them who you are."
But before I could act, a firm hand covered mine, stopping me.
Heat pulsed through my skin at the sudden contact. My breath hitched as I turned my head slightly.
Draven. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
His grip was unyielding, his fingers pressing down just enough to make his message clear. His golden eyes locked onto mine, sharp and piercing.
It was a silent command. A warning for me to behave.
I wasn’t sure if he had noticed the changes.
My pulse hammered, but the haze over my mind slowly lifted. My breath steadied, and with careful precision, I released my grip on the table and folded my hands in my lap.
I didn’t look at Draven again. I didn’t want him to see the fear flickering in my eyes. Because I wasn’t just afraid of the people in this room.
Something had taken over me. It wasn’t just anger—It was something... powerful, a force I couldn’t control. And that terrified me more than anything else.
A prickle of awareness crawled up my spine, and I felt a pair of eyes burning into me from across the hall. My gaze lifted briefly, meeting Wanda’s from another table. She was watching me, her green eyes sharp with jealousy. She had seen Draven’s hand over mine.
I quickly looked away.
The banquet hall continued its festivities, the guests too busy with their own conversations to notice what had just happened between Draven and I.
I straightened my posture, trying to shake off the unease, but then—Draven did something unexpected.
He called for the servant.
"Did you forget to serve food to my bride?" His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
The chatter near our table died instantly. Those sitting close enough to hear the exchange went silent, their amusement fading into uncertainty.
The servant, the same one who had spilled wine on me, froze. She looked up at Draven, her eyes widening with fear.
"M-my deepest apologies, Alpha," she stammered. "It was an... an oversight."
I could feel her panic. She hadn’t expected to be called out on her actions.
Draven’s expression didn’t change. "An oversight." He repeated the words slowly, deliberately.
The air around us grew heavy.
"Do you know what I do to people who embarrass my name?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
The servant paled. "A-Alpha, I—"
Draven cut her off, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "You seem to think food is an insult. But I do not tolerate disrespect—especially not to my wife."
I blinked, stunned.
Wife? That term was new me.
This was the first time Draven had ever referred to me as anything other than ’my bride’ and ’little wolf.’
The servant’s breathing grew shallow, her shoulders trembling.
"This nonsense will not happen again." Draven’s voice darkened. "Otherwise, your head will find itself displayed as one of my favourite collection."
The servant let out a strangled noise, immediately bowing so low her forehead nearly touched the table. "It won’t happen again, Alpha! I swear it!"
A moment later, food was quickly placed on my plate. A napkin was used to clean the spill on the table, and my goblet was taken away. This time, an experienced butler, the same one who served Draven, poured a fresh bottle of wine into a new goblet for me.
I sat frozen, my mind spinning. I simply didn’t understand.
Draven had let them humiliate me earlier. He had smirked when they laughed at me. And now? Now, he was acting as if I was something to be defended.
Was this all part of his twisted game? Or was there something else I didn’t understand?
I clenched my fingers around my lap, staring down at my plate.
I wouldn’t eat.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me enjoy something that had first been denied to me.
The toasts continued, Draven engaging with the guests as if nothing had happened. The music shifted, and wolves rose from their seats to dance. The atmosphere turned lighter, but I remained still, untouched food in front of me.
And Draven?
He didn’t say a word to me. He didn’t ask if I was alright.
He simply continued playing the perfect Alpha host, as if defending me had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
I hated him.
When the music ended, Draven finally stood. Without a word, without so much as a glance in my direction, he turned and walked away.
His Beta, Jeffery followed him, along with another man I hadn’t seen before.
The moment Draven left, the whispers began.
"He’s not spending the night with her?"
"So, it’s true. The Alpha doesn’t care for his new Luna."
"Maybe he regrets taking her."
"If he doesn’t respect her, why should we?"
I curled my fingers, my chest tightening with discomfort.
I didn’t care what Draven did. I didn’t care that he left me alone in that hall, surrounded by my enemies. But I hated being the center of their scrutiny. I hated that they enjoyed my humiliation.
Draven’s absence was a ticket to their continued abuse, and I wasn’t about to subject myself to their ridicule.
I needed to leave.
Just as I was thinking of slipping away unnoticed, Madame Beatrice approached my table.
"If you are done with your meal, Luna, I will escort you."
I exhaled in relief. I didn’t care if Draven had sent her or not—I just wanted to get out of there.
I stood immediately. The whispers and stares followed me, but they faded as I stepped out of the hall.
Finally, I could breathe.
But as I walked down the hallway, a firm familiar voice called out behind me.
"Meredith!"