The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 104

The smell of burnt rubber, smoke, and iron filled my nose, thick enough to choke on. The air was alive with chaos—warriors yelling for medics, others barking orders, boots crunching over broken glass.

Flames licked at the side of one of the vehicles, the once-black paint now blistered and melting. Pieces of metal rained down around us like deadly confetti.

I hit the ground hard, gravel biting into my palms, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Toren!” I tried to call out, but my voice was lost in the noise.

The world tilted, filled with the sounds of pain and panic—and somewhere in all of it, a deep, furious growl that didn’t sound human at all.

The ringing in my ears dulled into a distant hum, like the world had slipped underwater.

I pushed up onto shaky arms, gravel biting into my palms, lungs screaming for air. The acrid smell of smoke and gasoline burned my throat as I blinked through the haze. The world was chaos—fire licking the hood of one SUV, warriors shouting over each other, the sharp tang of blood filling the air.

And then I saw him.

“Toren!”

He was on the ground a few feet from the wreckage, half-covered in soot and ash, blood trailing down his temple. The sight snapped something inside me. My body moved before my mind caught up.

Talon stood frozen, eyes wide, his entire body locked in fear. Tyson was bleeding too—a gash across his shoulder soaking through his shirt—but at least he was on his feet, his face pale but determined.

Around us, the pack was in disarray. Warriors shouted conflicting orders, some running toward the wreckage, others standing still, unsure who to follow. The air reeked of panic.

That was when instinct took over.

“Talon!” My voice cracked like lightning. “Grab the uninjured warriors and move the wounded away from the fire—now!”

He blinked, startled, then nodded sharply, snapping back into motion. “You heard her! Move!”

As he rushed to obey, I stumbled toward Tyson, grabbing his good arm. “Help me with Toren.”

He didn’t argue—just winced as he shifted his weight, hauling Toren’s limp body up with me. Together, we dragged him away from the burning vehicle, every breath searing my lungs with heat and smoke.

We got him far enough that the flames no longer reached, and I dropped to my knees beside him. His breathing was shallow, ragged.

“Come on, Toren,” I whispered, brushing the soot from his cheek. “Stay with me.”

Behind us, voices rose again—panicked, unsure.

“What do we do?” someone cried. “Alpha’s down!”

“Should we call the Council?”

“Who’s in charge?”

The chaos was a living thing, clawing at the edges of reason. I turned sharply, my voice cutting through it.

“Listen up!”

Every head turned toward me, eyes wide, faces streaked with ash and fear.

“I need a head count—now! Everyone who’s conscious, find your unit. If you can walk, help me check every vehicle. We need to know who’s missing, who’s hurt, and who’s still standing!”

The command hit the air with a weight I didn’t even know I had. Warriors moved instantly.

I turned to a cluster of female warriors huddled near the wreckage. “You—get the first-aid kits from the supply SUVs. Use the cleanest cloth you can find. And keep the humans back from the road—tell them it’s an accident, whatever it takes!”

They nodded and took off.

When I looked back, Talon was guiding two injured men away from the flames, his expression still haunted but steady now. Tyson had crouched beside me again, his shoulder still bleeding.

Talon’s voice cracked as he looked at me. “Can you—can you heal him? Like you did for me?”

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I pressed my hand over Toren’s chest. His pulse was there—faint but steady.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I’m gonna try.”

I closed my eyes, forcing everything else to fade—the shouting, the fire, the smell of blood. I focused on Toren—on the thread of our bond that still pulsed faintly between us, fragile but unbroken.

A flood of sensations tore through me—pain that wasn’t mine, sharp and visceral. I could feel everything that was broken inside him. Every fractured rib, every torn muscle, every open wound screaming for attention. It was as if my body was trying to mirror his injuries, forcing me to understand what needed mending before I could even begin.

My breath hitched, my vision flashing white. My hands shook as I forced the energy forward, willing the bones to knit together, the skin to close, the bleeding to stop.

“Come on,” I whispered hoarsely, sweat sliding down my temple. “Come on, Toren…”

The heat under my skin built until it felt like lightning was crawling through my veins. My magic—whatever it was—snaked through him, searching, stitching, sealing. I felt it when his ribs realigned, when his heartbeat steadied. It was intimate, terrifying, and utterly consuming.

But then something else stirred—something unexpected.

A pulse. A second thread.

My eyes shot open just as the warmth shifted, spreading outward from where my hand rested on Toren’s chest… through him… and into someone else.

Tyson.

He had one hand pressed against Toren’s shoulder, his other braced in the dirt. His eyes went wide as the glow flickered up his arm, veins alight with the same golden shimmer that coursed through me.

The connection snapped into focus like a current locking into place. Through it, I could feel him—his pain, his fatigue, and the wound on his shoulder knitting itself back together.

“Holy hell,” he breathed, his voice rough. “You’re—Kira, it’s working. It’s working.”

I could barely hear him through the rush of energy roaring in my head. My entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out, my heartbeat syncing with theirs—three rhythms tangled into one.

“Tyson,” I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper. “Go… get the wounded. The ones that need help most.”

He blinked at me, stunned. “What—no, you can’t keep—”

“Go!” I snapped, pushing the word out before the strength bled out of me completely. “M1y pack needs me, Tyson. Go!”