Underwater: The Silent Luna novel Chapter 223

Chapter 223

Ethan and Meadow spent the entire day in the bedroom, and for once, the confinement did not feel like the same prison Ethan had known for seven years. It was still frustrating. His body still reminded him of its limits with every careless shift, every small pull in his back, every sharp sting around the stitched wound that told him healing was not the same thing as being healed. But this was different. This time, he was not hiding because he was hopeless. He was hiding because hope had finally returned, and that hope needed to be protected like something fragile and dangerous.

No one needed to know of the surgery. Not the workers moving through the mansion. Not the warriors who had remained. Not the people who bowed their heads respectfully but might have tongues that travelled to Cynthia and Sebastien before nightfall. The

fewer people knew the truth, the better. Ethan could not afford pride. Not now. Not when the people behind his seven years of

paralysis believed the silver still sat in his spine, keeping him weak, silent, and easy to dismiss. Let them keep believing that. Let them look at the wheelchair and see defeat. Let them think the Alpha of Whitewood was still trapped beneath the same old curse

Although Rashel knew, Elaine took it upon herself to keep an eye on her without letting Rashel know. It had to be done quietly.

They could not frighten the girl or make her feel accused, but they could not trust freely either. Trust had become too expensive

inside that house. Elaine understood that. She moved carefully, watching without hovering, listening without appearing suspicious.

It was a hard balance, but she managed it because everyone loyal had to become more than they had been before. Wife. Friend.

Warrior. Watcher. Protector. There was no room for only one role anymore.

Keith had refused to give Rashel back her phone, and she had somehow adjusted to not having one for now. It was a small thing on

the surface, but it mattered. Phones carried secrets too quickly. Phones turned bedrooms into doors and hallways into open roads. If

Rashel had nothing to hide, then the inconvenience would only be temporary. If she had been used without knowing, or if someone

had been feeding her questions and collecting answers, then the absence of her phone might already be saving them from another

leak.

The mansion felt too quiet around them. Not empty. There were workers. Footsteps. Low voices. Doors opening and closing. But

beneath all of that sat a strained silence, the kind that came after blood had been wiped away but not forgotten. Whitewood had

survived the attack, but it had not recovered from it. Not yet. Everyone knew the enemy had not truly left. Sebastien’s hand might

not be on every wall, but his shadow was there. Cynthia’s ambition moved like poison under the surface. And somewhere beyond

them, there was an Alpha whose name they still did not know, a man who had been moving pieces for years with patience cruel

enough to ruin Ethan first and come for Whitewood later.

Ethan told Meadow all Joseph had told him about his mother, and her heart reached out to Amber in spite of everything. Amber had

not always been kind to her. She had forced and arranged and carried authority like a blade. She had placed Meadow in Ethan’s lite

with a firmness that left very little room for choice. Yet Meadow could not hate a woman lying in a coma, her liver failing after

years of hidden sickness. She could not ignore the fear that must have driven Amber to push so hard, to want grandchildren, to

secure her family before time took her away. Knowing Amber had been sick did not erase everything, but it softened some edges

Meadow had been holding too tightly.

Meadow knew the B-negative blood group was rare, and they might have to look outside the pack to find a donor. That alone made

everything more complicated. Inside the pack, secrecy was already difficult. Outside the pack, it would become almost impossible.

They would have to ask questions without revealing too much. Search without making Amber’s weakness public. Find someone

compatible, strong enough, and willing. A donor with the right blood. A wolf with strong regenerative ability. Someone trustworthy

enough not to turn Amber’s desperation into gossip or leverage.

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Chapter 223

The possibility of success was slim because of the rarity of the blood type and their situation. Meadow knew that. She could see it in

Ethan’s face too, though he tried to hide it. Every time his mother came up, hope and dread warred inside him. He wanted to believe

there was a way. He needed to believe it. But he was also old enough in pain to know that wanting something badly did not make

the world kind.

She did not want Ethan to feel discouraged, so she planned to task some people secretly to search for a live donor. She did not say

much about it yet because she needed to think properly. Meadow had learned that fear made people careless when they moved too

fast. She would not be careless. If Amber could be saved, they needed a clean path, a quiet one. She would find a way to ask without

shouting. To look without exposing. To use the few threads of loyalty still left around them.

The day was long for Ethan. Too long. His body was healing fast, but the healing felt sluggish to him because his mind had already

outrun it. His wolf was returning, his strength was beginning to stir, and suddenly his body’s slowness felt like insult. He wanted to

do so many things. He wanted to leave the bedroom and go to the hospital. He wanted to see his mother with his own eyes. He

wanted to take her hand and speak to her, even if she could not hear him. He wanted to begin his secret physiotherapy immediately.

He wanted to test his legs, test his limits, test whether the faint feeling beneath Meadow’s hands was real or just his mind begging

for proof.

He wanted to move.

That was the cruel part. Seven years of being trapped had taught him how to endure stillness, but now that hope had returned,

stillness felt worse than ever. His back was healing, but not quickly enough for the life rushing back into him. His wolf genes were

awake, but not enough to lift him out of the chair. Echo was there, but mostly silent, working deep inside him while Ethan waited

like an impatient fool for a miracle that still needed time.

He was also worried about the people who had placed the shards in his spine and about Sebastien. The two dangers might be

connected, or they might not. That made it worse. There were too many enemies and not enough names. The Alpha who had forced

Dr James and Dr Mark to ruin him was still out there. Sebastien and Cynthia had taken Whitewood on the surface. Someone had fed

their attackers information. Workers might be compromised. Warriors had already shown where some of their loyalties truly lay.

Amber was dying. Ethan’s body was still recovering, It was all too much and yet there was no choice but to carry it.

He thought about reaching out to Malcolm in the meantime, but he wanted to wait and see how everything went before he started preparing for battle openly. Help from outside would be needed. He knew that. Joseph knew it too. But every request for help

created another point of exposure. Another person who might ask questions. Another path by which the truth about his surgery

could leak. They had to move, but not foolishly. Ethan hated patience, but patience was the only weapon they could use safely for

now.

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Underwater: The Silent Luna