The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven

Chapter 188: Brackham and His Cohorts

(Third Person).

The office still felt heavy with Draven’s voice, even after the call ended.

Mayor Brackham sat rigidly behind his vast oak desk, his knuckles white where they gripped the armrests of his chair.

The quiet hum of the air conditioning barely covered the quiet grind of his teeth.

"Incompetent," Draven had called him—coldly, with the same dismissive arrogance a wolf might give an insect before crushing it.

And worse, the Alpha had threatened open retaliation.

’Damn that wolf,’ Brackham seethed.

How dare Draven speak to him like that? The ruler of Duskmoor, the man who had kept this fragile city from tearing itself apart during economic ruin, crime waves, and rising supernatural tensions.

And yet, that overgrown mutt had dared to insult him... on his own soil.

Just then, there was a polite knock.

The door opened, and his secretary—a slight woman with sharp glasses and a notebook pressed to her chest—stepped in quietly.

"Mayor," she said, her voice careful as if sensing the coiled rage in the room, "the senators have assembled in the conference hall. They’re waiting for you."

Brackham drew in a slow, cooling breath. ’Control yourself,’ he reminded himself.

He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his dark suit jacket with deliberate calm. "Very well," he said curtly. "I will be there."

She bowed her head slightly and stepped aside as he stalked past her, his polished shoes striking the marble floor of the corridor in clipped, sharp echoes.

By the time he reached the tall double doors of the conference hall, Brackham had carefully smoothed his expression into his usual mask of composed authority—but the ember of his fury burned hot behind his eyes.

The senators—seven men and women of varying ages, all wearing finely tailored suits—rose from their seats around the dark conference table the moment he stepped in. "Mayor," they intoned respectfully.

He waved a hand, expressionless. "Sit."

They obeyed, leather chairs creaking quietly as they settled.

Brackham remained standing for a breath longer, surveying them, letting the silence gather weight. Then, finally, he sat at the head of the table, steepling his fingers.

"I just got off the phone with Alpha Draven," he began, his voice clipped and cold.

A ripple moved through the senators—raised brows, tightening shoulders.

Brackham continued, "He sent me a list. Testimonies from his people. It appears some of ours have been attacking and attempting to abduct werewolves... far too openly."

One senator—a ruddy-faced man with greying hair at the temples—scoffed loudly. "And what of it? Since when do those wild dogs get to lecture us about what we do in our own city?"

Another senator, a slim woman with sharp cheekbones, leaned back with a dismissive curl of her lip.

"Draven is starting to forget his place. The wolves should be grateful we allow them to stay within our borders at all."

A third, older senator let out a brittle laugh. "How dare he speak to the ruler of Duskmoor with such insolence?"

Yet another senator, eyes narrowing, added, "Or maybe that wolf has finally grown clever. Perhaps he suspects more than he lets on."

At this, Brackham’s eyes flashed dangerously. "No," he cut in sharply. "It isn’t that Draven has suddenly grown clever."

He paused, letting his cold gaze sweep across the table. "It’s because one of you allowed your dogs off the leash. And now Draven’s caught the scent."

The room went silent, the air heavy. Not a single senator dared to speak.

Brackham’s jaw flexed. His voice, when it came again, was quiet and icy.

"Which of you made this stupid mistake? Who ordered these brazen abduction attempts without proper planning, without ensuring it stayed hidden?"

A few senators exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, after a tense heartbeat, a senator near the end of the table raised his hand slightly. His face was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat.

"I believe... it may have been my men, Mayor," he admitted hoarsely. "I received a request to supply more specimens for the lab. I... authorized it, perhaps too quickly."

Brackham’s chair scraped harshly as he stood abruptly, slamming his palm onto the polished table. The sound cracked through the chamber.

"And in doing so, you made me bear the brunt of Draven’s threats and insults," he spat, voice dripping venom. "How could you be so careless?!"

The senator’s shoulders hunched, and he bowed his head. "My deepest apologies, Mayor." noveldrama

Brackham glared down at him. "Why the sudden rush? Why do you need more werewolves now? Last month you assured me we had enough for months of study!"

All eyes turned to the senator, who swallowed visibly before answering. "The lab... it appears to be in need of fresh specimens, sir. Our previous ones aren’t surviving the new tests long enough to provide useful data."

Brackham’s scowl deepened. "And why was I not informed of this? Do you take me for a fool?"

The senator lifted his gaze, face flushed with shame. "No, Mayor. It was negligence on my part. I thought it would resolve itself."

Brackham exhaled, his breath slow and sharp as a knife. "Negligence," he repeated, the word tasting sour.

He scanned the faces of the other senators, each of whom looked away quickly. "Do you all understand what you have risked? Our careful balance with the werewolves is cracking—and you hand them proof of our actions on a silver platter?"

Silence answered him.

Brackham’s hand closed into a tight fist. "From this day on, no more abduction attempts without my explicit command. Am I clear?"

The seven senators nodded, voices murmuring a subdued, "Yes, Mayor."

He straightened, his voice lowering but losing none of its threat. "And I want new plans drafted. Discreet. Clean. We cannot afford more mistakes."

One senator spoke up timidly, "Mayor... what about Draven’s warning? If they start killing our men when attacked—"

"Then we will adapt," Brackham cut him off coldly. "But we do not retreat."

He clenched his jaw, feeling his pulse still pounding. "We will continue. This city’s supremacy—our power—depends on it."

No one dared argue.

Finally, Brackham’s shoulders loosened just slightly. "Now," he said, voice softer but no less cold, "leave me. All of you."

The senators rose, bowing their heads, and quietly filed out of the conference hall, the door shutting behind them with a heavy click.

Brackham remained standing, staring at the polished table.

His heart still thundered with anger at Draven’s insolence, at the senator’s stupidity, at the fragile web of power now stretched dangerously thin.

’Let the wolf bare his teeth,’ he thought darkly. ’He doesn’t know the full extent of what we’re doing... yet.’

And he would make sure it stayed that way for a long time.