Third Person POV.
The night had left Meredith hollow. She had tossed in bed like a storm-blown leaf, haunted by Draven’s words that burrowed deep and gnawed at her resolve. Though her rage hadn’t vanished entirely, it had cooled into a low, seething simmer, coated in exhaustion.
When Madame Beatrice woke her at five sharp, Meredith blinked against the darkness. No apology. No warmth. Just business.
"Time to prepare," the older woman had said, turning away before she could grunt a response.
And while she didn’t care much for the woman’s tone, Meredith hadn’t missed the one piece of unexpected news: Madame Beatrice wouldn’t be accompanying them to Duskmoor.
She didn’t celebrate, but in the end, she thought it was one less set of judging eyes around her and felt a bit of relief.
More surprising, however, was Madame Beatrice’s decision to appoint Azul as the head of Meredith’s maidservants. Considering how quickly the woman had rejected the idea before, the change of heart was odd and unexpected.
Still, Meredith didn’t question it. Maybe the Moon Goddess was trying to throw her a bone after last night’s disaster.
---
The sky outside was still cloaked in pre-dawn gray when Meredith stepped out with Azul and the four maidservants.
The air smelled of morning dew and something colder, heavier—like fate about to shift.
Five vehicles were lined up in the driveway: three sleek black sedans, a Maybach, and a Mercedes van that gleamed under the estate lights.
Wanda stood by the Maybach already, arms crossed, chin lifted in that way she always wore around Meredith. She didn’t speak, but the disdain in her narrowed eyes was public and unmistakable.
Meredith had noticed her stare and had returned the look with an inward scoff. Wanda was the least of her problems. So she thought.
Of course, the morning wouldn’t be complete without a side of hostility.
Then, like an unwelcome shadow, Draven emerged from the house with Jeffery at his side. All movement halted. Every servant lowered their head. Even Meredith bowed—though her fingers curled tight and her stomach twisted as she forced the motion.
Draven didn’t spare her a glance. Not even a flick of those molten gold eyes. Just the same blank pass-over he gave everyone else.
Cold. Detached. And infuriating. Like he hadn’t purposely upset her last night.
Draven’s voice cut through the morning quiet. "Let’s begin the journey to Duskmoor.
Immediately, Wanda saw her opening and wasted no time approaching Draven.
"Alpha," she said clearly, raising a manila folder in his direction. "I have some thoughts on the murder case. It’s urgent."
Meredith watched as Draven turned toward Wanda. Not warmly. Just enough to show he had heard. Then he gave her a subtle nod and gestured for her to get into the Maybach.
On the other hand, Wanda smiled—sweetly, triumphantly—and made her way to the Maybach, slipping into the opposite side with the grace of a woman who had just won her little game.
Meredith threw her gaze away.
Wanda had spent last night studying the murder case and all related cases just so she could get this opportunity to stop Meredith from riding in the same car with Draven.
Draven entered the car without a word. Then Jeffery peeled away from the group and approached Meredith with a small, respectful nod.
"You will be riding in the van, my lady," he said. "With your attendants."
Meredith forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Beta."
The van doors opened. Inside, plush leather seats curved in elegant symmetry. The scent of clean leather and cool air conditioning welcomed Meredith in. A small flat screen blinked to life. The space was quiet, cozy—mercifully free of Draven.
She almost smiled for real.
Sliding inside, she buckled in as Jeffery had instructed. Azul followed with practiced efficiency, then the four maids filled in, each settling quietly.
Meredith leaned into the soft seat, letting her shoulders drop for the first time in hours.
Finally. A small taste of freedom.
Her thoughts flickered back to the night before. After storming away from Draven’s verbal assault, she had hidden in the bathroom for ten long minutes, breathing heavily, hoping he would leave. And he had.
When she finally returned to the room, Madame Beatrice and the maids were already packing her things into a single enormous travel case.
Plus, she hadn’t eaten a bite since then.
Now, strapped into the van and away from Draven’s piercing gaze, her appetite stirred like an awakening beast.
---
The convoy began to move—Draven’s Maybach leading the way with the Mercedes trailing just behind. Meredith parted the thick curtains beside her and looked out through the tinted glass. The Oatrun estate blurred past in dark silhouettes and stone walls.
Stormveil was behind her.
Then she wondered, ’Would I miss it? My family? That cold, silent house?’
No. Yes. Maybe.
She wasn’t sure.
Next, she wondered if she could truly adapt to Duskmoor, its culture, its people, its rules.
Uncertainty curled around her like mist.
Meanwhile, in the Maybach, Wanda leaned slightly toward Draven, folder opened on her lap. Her voice was even and professional, but her eyes betrayed the satisfaction she felt.
"I believe the deaths of our kind are linked to the recent human organ trafficking reports. Twenty-three humans missing. Seven bodies found—organs harvested," she said.
Draven’s expression didn’t change, but the spark in his gaze sharpened.
"That’s a point," he replied. "But I care more about who is targeting our kind. Humans can’t overpower werewolves—not unless they have found new methods. Tranquilizers, perhaps. But if they have discovered something else..." He paused. "We are looking at a possible threat to our race."
Jeffery, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned slightly. "The crime scenes were too clean," he said. "I believe the killings happened elsewhere. Then the corpses were moved—placed deliberately just to cover their trail."
Draven nodded, quiet, but thoughtful. The pieces were forming. And he didn’t like what the puzzle implied.
---
Back in the van, Meredith’s stomach gave a loud, unmistakable grumble. She winced and pressed a hand against it, her cheeks warming with embarrassment.
Deidra, seated beside her, smiled gently. "Are you hungry, my lady?"
Meredith exhaled. She was caught now, so there was no reason to lie. "A little. But I can wait till we arrive."
Kiera looked up from across the aisle, blinking in surprise. "W-what? My lady, we have still got about ten hours until Duskmoor."
Meredith’s eyes widened instantly. "Ten hours?" No one had informed her about it.
Kiera nodded, giving her a concerned look.
Meredith slumped back in her seat, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief.
Ten whole hours? she groaned internally.
Suddenly, her hunger didn’t feel so manageable anymore.