Don’t Poke the Luna Chapter 237

Xena's POV

Consciousness crept back slowly, like swimming up from the bottom of a dark ocean. The first thing I noticed was the sterile smell—antiseptic, clean sheets, that unmistakable hospital scent that seemed to cling to everything. My mind felt foggy, wrapped in cotton, but gradually the fog began to lift. I was alive. Somehow, impossibly, I was alive.

I struggled to open my eyes, the bright light stabbing through my skull like needles. Sunlight streamed through a window, painting golden squares across the white hospital room. As my vision cleared, I became aware of a weight beside my bed. Someone was there, slumped forward with their head resting on their arms.

With tremendous effort, I lifted my head slightly to get a better look.

Ryder.

My heart stopped for a moment before hammering against my ribs. He was asleep, his blond hair falling across his forehead, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. The sight of him here, real and breathing. My world, which had been nothing but pain and darkness, suddenly burst back into color.

I had done it. I had survived. I was looking at the person I had missed more than my own heartbeat, the man I had fought so desperately to return to. Overwhelming happiness crashed over me like a tidal wave, so pure and intense it took my breath away.

Tears gathered in my eyes, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down my cheeks onto the hospital pillow. I tried to turn my head away, not wanting to wake him, but a gentle hand touched my face.

I turned back in surprise to find Ryder's green eyes looking at me with such tenderness it nearly broke me all over again. That was it—the dam burst completely. I began sobbing, all the pain and relief I'd been holding back pouring out of me in great, gasping waves.

"Hey, hey," Ryder said softly, panic flickering across his features as he scrambled for tissues on the bedside table. His hands shook as he gently wiped away my tears, his touch feather-light against my skin. "You did it. It's over. It's all over now."

He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, and I felt some of the terror finally leave my body.

"I love you so much," I whispered through my tears.

He pulled me into his arms then, careful of the IV lines and monitors, holding me against his chest like he was afraid I might disappear. I melted into his embrace, feeling safe and whole for the first time since this nightmare began. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, real and reassuring.

"Wow, looks like I'm interrupting something," Logan's teasing voice came from the doorway.

Ryder slowly pulled back, his arms reluctant to release me. At the sound of my brother's voice, the emotions I'd just managed to control came crashing back. Fresh tears pooled in my eyes as I looked at Logan standing there with that familiar crooked smile.

"My sister's turned into a crybaby," Logan said, grinning at me.

"Have not," I protested through my tears, which only made Ryder and Logan chuckle softly.

Logan pulled a bouquet of yellow tulips from behind his back and placed them on the bedside table. He walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, but when he glanced at Ryder, his expression shifted to something more serious. I felt the atmosphere in the room change instantly, a chill of anxiety running down my spine.

Was this about William? Please, Moon God, don't let William be dead.

"Sis," Logan began, his voice unusually heavy, "what I'm about to tell you might be difficult to hear. But life goes on, and I need you to promise me you won't lose faith in living..." He looked directly into my eyes, his tone growing deeper and more solemn.

Ryder's face crumpled with pain, looking like he was about to cry. He turned away and walked to the window, his shoulders rigid with tension. My confusion and fear grew with each passing second.

"What is it?" I asked impatiently. "Just tell me."

Logan seemed to have expected my reaction, his expression remaining serious. "I need you to stay calm. We'll face this together, whatever happens."

My mind flashed back to the fighting. A terrible realization began to creep into my consciousness. Something was missing. Something was wrong. My heart plummeted to my stomach, and my pulse began racing uncontrollably.

Logan saw the change in my expression, and his face twisted with anguish, confirming my worst fears. With trembling hands, I slowly lifted my left arm from beneath the blanket, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst.

What emerged was a bandaged stump ending just below my wrist.

The world tilted on its axis. My hand was GONE. My left hand was GONE.

Rage exploded through me like wildfire. I wanted to scream, to thrash against this hospital bed, to tear apart everything within reach. The fury built in my chest, a roar of denial and fury threatening to tear from my throat. How dare this happen to me? I wanted to rage against the unfairness, to demand answers, to make someone pay for this mutilation.

But then I looked up and saw Logan's face.

My brother looked like he had aged ten years. Deep lines of exhaustion and worry were etched around his eyes, and his shoulders sagged with a weariness that went bone-deep. The strong, confident man I knew had been replaced by someone who looked utterly drained.

My gaze shifted to Ryder, still standing at the window with his back to us. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and I could see his hand pressed against his face. The sight of his broken silhouette against the bright window made my heart clench.

The rage that had been building inside me suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon. Here were the two most important men in my life, both clearly devastated by what had happened to me, both trying so hard to be strong for my sake.

I couldn't add to their burden. I couldn't be the broken, raging victim they expected me to be. They had already suffered enough because of me, had already paid too high a price for my rescue.

I needed to grow up. I needed to be stronger than this devastating loss.

So instead of screaming, instead of throwing the tantrum that was clawing at my throat, I forced myself to go numb. I shoved the rage and despair down into a deep place inside myself where I could deal with it later—or not at all.

I let my arm fall back to the bed, completely numb. There was no anger, no screaming, no dramatic breakdown. I felt like the Moon God had abandoned me completely, left me broken and incomplete.

"FUCK!" Ryder's anguished roar echoed through the room as he slammed his fist against the windowsill.

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Logan's voice finally cut through the quiet. "Ryder and I need to discuss our next steps. We'll fill you in on the plan afterward, and you can suggest improvements."

I could see him fighting to keep the worry out of his eyes, his voice deliberately normal. Probably he didn't want me to feel pitied or treated like I was fragile.

He walked over to Ryder and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ryder wiped his face with his hand before turning around. When he faced me, I was shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks. In all the time I'd known him, through every danger and crisis we'd faced, I had never seen Ryder cry. Not even when he'd been shot and nearly died.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. As they reached the door, I called out to them.

"How is William?" My voice was more shaky than I'd intended.