The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 107

He broke the kiss only long enough to whisper against my lips, voice ragged, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Before I could respond, he kissed me again—slower this time, deep and lingering, his hand sliding down to my hip as he gently pushed me back against the bed. The world spun in color and warmth as he crawled over me, his body hovering just above mine.

But the moment my ribs brushed against his chest, I gasped—a sharp, involuntary sound of pain.

Tyson froze instantly.

“Shit.” He pulled back so fast it made the bed creak. “I’m sorry, Kira. I—did I hurt you?”

I shook my head quickly, trying to catch my breath. “No. Just sore. Everything still hurts a little.”

His jaw clenched, guilt shadowing his face. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop,” I said softly, reaching up to grab his hand. “You didn’t hurt me. Really.”

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the back of my hand. For a moment, his expression softened again—his eyes warm, full of something unguarded.

The bond between us pulsed faintly, steady and alive.

“Did we…” I hesitated, my voice trembling, “Did we lose anyone? At the fire?”

The question hung in the air.

Tyson looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Toren’s coming,” he said finally. “He wants to talk to you.”

My stomach turned cold. “Tyson…”

He didn’t answer. He just reached out, squeezing my hand once before stepping aside.

The door opened a heartbeat later, the hinges groaning softly.

Toren filled the doorway first, tall and commanding even in his exhaustion, followed closely by Talon, whose expression was softer but lined with worry. The small room suddenly felt much smaller.

Before I could say anything, Toren crossed the space in two strides and crushed his mouth against mine. His kiss wasn’t desperate like Tyson’s—it was claiming. Rough. His hand slid up my throat to the back of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss until my lungs burned. When he pulled back, his eyes were molten gold, his chest rising with restrained emotion.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he whispered, voice hoarse with a mix of anger and fear.

Before I could reply, Talon stepped forward, his touch a gentle contrast. He cupped my cheek, brushing a thumb under my eye where tear tracks still lingered. His lips met mine in a soft, careful kiss that made my heart ache.

“Welcome back,” he murmured, smiling faintly.

I looked between the three of them—so different, yet bound to me in ways that defied reason—and forced the question again. “Did we lose anyone?”

Silence.

Toren’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look away this time.

“There was a cub,” he said quietly. “He was too close to the car when it went off. The blast threw him into the treeline. By the time we got to him…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

The air in the room shifted—heavy, suffocating. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

A cub.

A child.

Because of me.

The guilt slammed into me like a physical blow, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. My vision blurred, hot tears filling my eyes as I whispered, “No… no, no, no…”

Toren reached for me, but I pulled back, shaking my head, the words tumbling out in broken fragments.

“It’s my fault—if I hadn’t—if we hadn’t stopped there—”

“Kira,” Tyson said firmly, his tone low but steady. “Don’t. Not again.”

But I couldn’t stop it this time. The weight of it all pressed down until it felt like my ribs might crack under it.

A cub. Dead.

Because of me.

And no amount of power or healing would ever bring him back.

Toren took a step toward me, his eyes softening. “Kira—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracked. “Don’t touch me.”

I stumbled off the bed, my legs barely holding. “If I hadn’t stopped, if I hadn’t—”

Tyson caught my wrist before I could pull away again. His touch was gentle, steady, grounding. “You didn’t make that bomb,” he said firmly. “You didn’t set that trap.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped, tears blurring my vision. “I’m supposed to protect this pack. I’m supposed to keep everyone safe, and a child—” My throat closed. “A child is dead because of me.”

Toren’s jaw flexed, pain flickering in his golden eyes. But before he could respond, Tyson stood and cut across the room. His presence filled it — raw, Alpha-deep.

He crouched in front of me, taking both of my hands in his. His thumbs brushed over the small scars on my knuckles. “Look at me.”

I tried. Failed.

He lifted my chin until our eyes met. “You didn’t force Lucas to plant explosives. You didn’t create the evil in him. You didn’t make your mother cruel, or your sister jealous. You have spent your entire life surviving their choices. Don’t you dare carry their sins too.”

The words broke something open inside me. A sob tore out before I could stop it. Tyson just pulled me closer, pressing my forehead to his.

“This is war, Kira,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “War takes. It always takes. But you also gave something today—ten wolves are alive because you wouldn’t stop. You bought them time, bought us time. You kept me breathing.”

I swallowed hard, the guilt clawing at me, but his words seeped in like warmth through frost.

Toren stepped closer, his voice softer now. “He’s right.”

When I looked up, the anger was gone from his eyes—only the weight of leadership remained. “The pack’s rattled,” he said quietly. “They need to see strength. They need to see that we’re not broken. That starts with us.”

“Us?” I echoed.

“You,” Toren said simply. “They’ve been asking for you, Kira. The wounded, the mothers… they know you healed them. They want their Luna to speak.”

Panic flared in my chest. “I can’t—”

Talon’s voice, calm and even, came from behind him. “You already did. Out there, in the fire. You gave orders. You kept people alive. That was a Luna command if I’ve ever heard one.”

I stared between them — three alphas, all looking at me as if I was the center of gravity holding them steady.

The thought terrified me. But it also steadied me.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my trembling hands still. “Then I’ll speak to them,” I whispered. “But first… I need to see him. The cub.”