The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 109

Tyson’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, firm but gentle — the touch of someone used to command, but careful with me. His voice was low but unyielding.

“You need to eat something, Moon. Now.”

I frowned up at him, but he just arched a brow. That look. The one that said he’d throw me over his shoulder and force me to eat if I argued.

“I’m fine, Tyson—”

“No, you’re not,” he said sharply, steering me toward the side corridor. “You’ve been running on fumes and sheer will since the explosion. You’re not passing out again, not on my watch. The pack can handle setup.”

The kitchen was quiet and warm when we entered, sunlight spilling through the high windows. It smelled faintly of coffee and herbs — comforting, domestic, too calm for the chaos still humming under my skin.

Tyson turned toward the hall and barked, “Shyanne! Marianne!”

A clatter echoed from somewhere upstairs before the twins came bounding in — Shyanne slightly out of breath and wild-haired, Marianne composed but scowling like she’d just been dragged away from important work.

Tyson gestured toward me. “Make sure she eats, make sure she drinks, and then get her dressed for the ceremony. She’ll be leading it, and I don’t want her fainting halfway through.”

“Yes, Alpha,” they said together, though Shyanne grinned like she was already planning trouble.

Tyson sighed, muttering under his breath, “Saints save me from stubborn women,” before pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. His thumb brushed my jaw, softening the command in his tone. “Eat, Moon. Please.”

And then he was gone — all authority and long strides as his voice drifted down the hall, calling orders.

Marianne motioned to a stool by the counter. “Sit. Don’t even think about helping. If you move, I’ll tie you to that chair.”

I laughed weakly but sat anyway.

“Good choice,” she said, pulling ingredients from the cupboards. “He’s right, you know. You’ve done enough. The pack’s already buzzing about you. They’re… well, they’re happy, Kira. Really happy.”

I blinked. “Happy?”

She smiled, soft and knowing. “You gave them something real. A Luna who doesn’t hide behind her mates or her title. You bled for them, fought beside them, healed them. They see you — all of you. They finally have a true Luna again.”

Her words hit deep, somewhere I didn’t expect. I swallowed hard and managed, “Thank you.”

Marianne shrugged, ladling soup into a bowl. “Don’t thank me yet. If this soup kills you, I’m denying everything.”

A laugh escaped me — small but real.

From upstairs came Shyanne’s excited yell. “Okay, Luna! You’re going to die when you see this!”

Seconds later, she barreled into the kitchen, arms full of fabric. When she held it up, the breath left my lungs.

The dress shimmered like liquid night. Deep black velvet dusted with silver glimmers that caught the light and winked like starlight scattered across the sky. Long sleeves, a fitted waist, a train that whispered elegance and power.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “Where did you find it?”

Shyanne grinned, eyes sparkling. “Toren had it made months ago — said when the pack found its Luna again, she should look like she was kissed by the moon itself.”

Emotion tightened my throat.

Marianne set a cup of water in front of me. “Eat up, because that dress is heavy. If you faint, Shyanne’s carrying you, and trust me, she’ll never shut up about it.”

Shyanne gasped dramatically. “Excuse you, I’d carry her like the goddess she is!”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself, and took a sip of soup. It wasn’t perfect, but it was warm, grounding — real.

As I ate, Shyanne brushed invisible lint off the gown and murmured, “You’re going to be stunning out there, Luna. The moon’s going to be jealous.”

I laughed softly. “Let’s hope not. I’ve had enough celestial drama for one lifetime.”

I rolled my eyes but let them lead me. The estate’s second floor was quiet — sunlight spilling through the tall windows, the faint scent of pine and old wood filling the air. We slipped into a large guest room that looked like it had been prepared in a hurry: the black gown draped over the bed, silver jewelry laid out neatly beside it, and a full-length mirror propped in the corner.

Shyanne gave a low whistle. “Told you this dress was going to make history.”

Marianne crossed her arms, practical as always. “History doesn’t need to trip on her own skirt, so let’s take our time.”

I laughed softly, nerves fluttering in my stomach as they began to help me change. The cool fabric slid over my skin like liquid night — heavy, smooth, whispering against the floor as the hem pooled around my bare feet.

“No makeup,” I said when Shyanne reached for a small case.

She blinked. “Not even a little shimmer? It would make your eyes—”

“No,” I said gently, meeting her reflection in the mirror. “I want to be seen as I am. No mask tonight.”

Marianne’s brow arched, but she nodded approvingly. “Fair enough. Natural it is.”

Shyanne sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you’re letting me do your hair at least. You can’t look like a wild child of the forest and not have goddess curls.”

She got to work, her fingers deft as she twisted and curled sections of my hair, letting them fall in loose, soft waves that shimmered in the light. The gentle tug and pull was almost soothing, like a grounding ritual in itself.

When she was done, Marianne fastened a delicate silver chain around my throat — simple, elegant, with a small moonstone pendant that caught the light every time I moved.

“Shoes,” Marianne said, holding up a pair of soft black flats.

I shook my head immediately. “No shoes.”

Marianne frowned. “Kira, it’s cold out there. You’ll freeze before the ceremony’s half over.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, stepping away and feeling the cool wood floor beneath my feet. “I want to feel the ground beneath me — to be connected to it. To her. The Mother. I can’t lead this rite from above it. I need to stand in it.”

Shyanne’s expression softened, admiration flickering in her eyes. “That’s… actually beautiful.”

Marianne sighed, muttering something about stubborn Lunas, but she smiled as she said it. “Fine. But if you get frostbite, I’m not amputating toes.”

I laughed quietly, smoothing a hand over the gown one last time. The fabric glimmered like a night sky in motion, my reflection catching flashes of light like distant stars.

“Ready?” Shyanne asked, standing beside me with a grin.

I took a breath and nodded. “Ready.”

They followed me down the long staircase, their footsteps soft against the polished floor. The murmur of voices drifted from the main hall — the pack gathering outside, the low rumble of preparations echoing faintly through the estate.

Halfway down the steps, I saw them.

Toren. Tyson. Talon.

They turned at the same time — three powerful silhouettes in dark suits, all strength and wildness contained by just enough control. And when their eyes landed on me, the world went still.

Talon was the first to react, his lips parting slightly. “Sweetheart…” His voice was barely a whisper, reverent and disbelieving.

Tyson let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a crooked grin that couldn’t quite hide the awe in his eyes. “Moon, if the pack doesn’t bow for you tonight, I will.”