Underwater: The Silent Luna novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Four days felt like four years away from Whitewood.

Time moved strangely in Ceenas, slow in the body, heavy in the mind. Every sunrise arrived with the same rigid schedule, the same rehearsed hospitality wrapped in subtle intimidation. Alpha Malcolm made sure Ethan and Joseph felt the weight of Zeenas at every

turn.

Every morning brought another guided tour.

Another calculated walk through wide training grounds.

Another reveal of power disguised as progress.

Massive barracks stretched like stone beasts beneath the sun. Newly built housing blocks stood in proud, geometric lines. Endless rows of warriors trained relentlessly, muscles taut, movements precise, weapons flashing as they cut the air in vicious arcs.

“This was only completed last winter,” Malcolm would say proudly, gesturing toward towering structures,

“And this expansion? Just last month.”

“My warriors now number nearly double what they were two years ago.”

Each sentence was not an update.

It was a warning.

Joseph responded with the diplomacy expected of an acting Alpha, nodding, praising, acknowledging the growth in the careful

language of alliance.

Ethan said almost nothing.

But he noticed everything.

The disciplined formations were not just for strength, they were for intimidation. The training patterns were more aggressive than necessary. The warriors were positioned deliberately where visiting leaders could see them sweat, fight, bleed, and dominate.

And beneath the surface of hospitality lived something sharp.

Threat.

But one thing grated on Ethan far more than the posturing.

Malcolm corrected Joseph’s grammar.

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At first, Ethan thought it had been a slip, an unconscious reflex born from habit or ego.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Joseph would speak, calm and strategic, and Malcolm would interrupt casually.

“You mean were, not was.”

“It’s actually pronounced, ”

“That phrasing implies, ”

Each correction was followed by a smug explanation delivered with a smile too polished to be innocent.

Joseph endured it.

He smiled.

He nodded.

He adjusted.

Ethan memorized it.

Each interruption carved another invisible line of disrespect across the fragile surface of their diplomacy.

“I really want to go home,” Ethan confessed quietly to Joseph as they moved down one of the stone corridors later that evening.

The ceiling arched high above them, echoing every step.

Joseph glanced at him.

He didn’t need to ask why.

Meadow.

The name was unspoken but loud between them.

Even the talk of Cynthia’s return to the pack, news Joseph had once believed would shatter Ethan, had barely stirred him the way he

expected. That alone unsettled him. Cynthia had been the storm Ethan had never outrun. The wound that had once defined him.

But now?

Meadow had somehow become a stronger gravity.

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A softer one.

A far more dangerous one.

“After the discussion today, we’ll round things up,” Joseph said. “We need to show them clearly why they need us.”

Ethan scoffed softly.

“We don’t need them, Joseph.”

Joseph shook his head, his face tightening with frustration that had nowhere safe to go.

“There’s only so much I can handle alone. And unless you want Levi dragged into pack wars, I don’t want bloodshed. Malcolm is he

biggest threat walking our world right now. His hunger for expansion has pushed him into unspeakable actions.”

Ethan said nothing.

“The treaty keeps him contained,” Joseph continued. “It stops him from moving against Whitewood.”

Ethan remained silent, his jaw tight.

His thoughts weren’t on Malcolm.

Or war.

Or politics.

They were on Meadow.

On the outing with his mother.

On the quiet fear gnawing at him that Amber might have used the shopping trip as a cover for something deeper… something

irreversible.

Artificial insemination tests.

The thought burned like acid in his chest.

And worse, that Meadow might not tell him even if she had.

Because Meadow protected people even when they hurt her.

“Come on,” Joseph said finally. “Let’s go for lunch. After this discussion, we’ll know where we stand.”

They walked toward the open-air gazebo at the center of Ceenas.

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The structure overlooked the sprawl of the city, stone rooftops, training arenas, smoke rising from distant forges. Wind swept

through wide arches, carrying the sounds of steel striking steel.

Malcolm was already there, seated comfortably with his Beta and Gamma.

Both were sharp-eyed.

Both carried the stillness of seasoned killers.

Both watched Joseph and Ethan the moment they approached.

“How do you like your stay here?” Malcolm asked, clearly fishing for admiration.

Ethan said nothing.

“It is very nice,” Joseph replied politely.

Malcolm smiled, satisfied.

The kind of smile that counted silence as submission.

They ate.

Plates were served with ceremonial precision. Wine was poured into crystal glasses that caught the sunlight like danger dressed as

beauty. Servants moved quietly around them, never lingering long enough to be read.

And then the real conversation began.

Not the one spoken aloud.

The one beneath all the pleasantries.

Joseph laid out the financial angle of the treaty carefully and with surgical precision.

Trade routes.

Shared resources.

Protection clauses.

Economic growth.

His voice was steady. Calm. Controlled.

“I implore you to consider this treaty, Alpha Malcolm,” Joseph said, his tone respectful but firm. “Our financial records are

transparent. The Whitewood pack is well established compared to the struggling neighbouring packs. Aligning with us strengthens

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your people immediately. Food security. Trade. Infrastructure.”

He paused.

Letting the promise settle.

“We stand to gain. But together… the possibilities are limitless.”

Ethan watched Malcolm closely as Joseph spoke.

Behind the Alpha’s polished smile, calculation flickered.

Ceenas was growing fast.

Too fast.

Everyone knew it.

Whitewood was still stronger. Richer. Larger.

But Ceenas was ambitious.

And ambition, when fed, either becomes loyalty,

, or war.

Joseph knew it.

Ethan knew it.

And Malcolm?

Malcolm was deciding whether Whitewood would become his shield…

Or his next conquest.

Joseph finished speaking and lifted his glass calmly.

“I hope we can come to an agreement soon.”

Ethan said nothing.

But his silence was heavier than any speech.

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Underwater: The Silent Luna