The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 11

I hadn’t gone home last night.

Instead, I’d curled up beside the lake, miles into the woods, where the moonlight shimmered across the still surface of the water. The damp earth pressed cold against my back, the air sharp with pine and dew. Every rustle of the trees above felt safer than the sound of footsteps in my family’s den. Out here, I was surrounded by silence and starlight instead of beatings and lies.

But morning always came.

As dawn bled into full daylight, I pushed myself up from the mossy bank, my body stiff from sleeping on the ground. My stomach growled, empty and sour, but there was no time to hunt. The Gathering awaited, and I had no choice but to return.

By the time I walked back toward the pack house, the courtyard was alive with voices. Warriors barked orders to one another as they heaved luggage into the SUVs, the thud of boots and the slam of doors echoing off the stone walls. My steps slowed when I saw them all gathered, but it was too late—eyes turned.

Every gaze cut into me like a blade.

The warriors first, their looks sharp and hungry, lingering on me too long, as if stripping me bare. Then Darin—his cocky smirk already waiting, like he knew I’d show up. And heavier than all of them were my parents’ stares: my father’s cold disgust, my mother’s thinly veiled contempt. Lyra’s hate burned hottest of all, her lips curling into a smile that promised retribution.

Even Alpha Lucas’s eyes found me. His stare lingered, unreadable, heavy enough to make my chest constrict.

I dropped my gaze, forcing my chin low, and walked toward the waiting vehicles. My throat was dry, my palms damp, but when it came time to choose, I stepped into the SUV with the Betas. Anything to avoid being caged between my parents.

I slid onto the seat. Right beside Darin.

He shifted closer immediately, pleased, his broad frame filling the space like he’d been waiting just for this. His arm stretched casually along the back of the seat, close enough that I could feel the heat of him against my shoulders. My skin prickled.

The convoy rumbled to life, tires crunching over gravel as engines growled. The line of SUVs snaked out of the pack lands, the road opening before us like a path to something I couldn’t yet see. I fixed my eyes on the window, watching the blur of trees, trying to pretend the weight in the vehicle didn’t suffocate me.

But I could feel it.

My father’s eyes.

From the passenger seat up front, he kept glancing back at me, his jaw tight, his mouth pressed into a razor-thin line. Fury rolled off him in waves, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it broke.

And then Darin got bold.

His hand slid onto my inner thigh, deliberate, fingers curling just enough for the pressure to sink through the fabric of my pants. My breath caught in my chest. My instinct screamed to shove him away, but instead—I froze. I wanted to see what would happen.

It didn’t take long.

My father’s head snapped around. His eyes widened, then narrowed into burning fury. “Darin!” he roared, his voice rattling the air. “Take your hands off my daughter this instant!”

Darin only laughed, a low, taunting sound that sent a shiver up my spine. “You have no power over me anymore. Or over Kira.”

The words twisted in my stomach. I blinked, startled, turning toward him. “What do you mean?”

His head turned slowly, the grin stretching across his mouth smug and sharp. “Did you forget your own birthday, little wolf?”

I stared at him, my mind blank. Once. Twice. Then the truth crashed down like a blow. *My birthday.* I had forgotten.

Darin’s grin deepened, satisfaction curling at the edges. “Of course you did. Everyone’s been tripping over themselves to wish Lyra a happy birthday, haven’t they? Showering her with praise. And everyone’s refused to acknowledge it’s yours too. But I didn’t forget.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small black box.

The world seemed to narrow to that single object in his palm. My breath quickened.

My father twisted in his seat, his fury boiling over. He nearly climbed over the console as he reached for it, his hand snapping out like a striking snake. “What is this? What are you doing? Give that to me!”

“Pull over!” he barked at the warrior driving, his voice breaking with rage. “Now!”

But before the SUV could slow, Alpha Lucas’s voice rang from behind us, deep and commanding.

“Enough!”

The word cracked through the air like thunder. Every muscle in the vehicle seemed to tense. The warrior behind the wheel stiffened, his hands locked to the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road.

“Keep driving,” Lucas ordered.

The command hummed with authority, heavy and absolute. My father’s voice faltered. He sputtered, rage vibrating in the space around him, but the Alpha’s will was law. His jaw clenched, his fury swallowing him whole, but he could not defy.

My hands shook as Darin pressed the small black box into them. My fingers trembled as I lifted the lid.

Nestled against the velvet lining was a necklace. A crescent moon, wrought in shimmering silver, its delicate arc cradled by a chain of pure gold. Light caught the surface, making it glow as though it held the night sky within its curve.

The sight stole my breath.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice. But fear tangled with awe, twisting my words into a plea. “This is too much… something this expensive—am I even allowed—”

Darin plucked the necklace from my shaking hands with ease. “It’s yours.”

Before I could protest, before I could think, he leaned closer. His fingers brushed against my hair, sweeping it aside. His touch lingered a moment too long against my neck as he fastened the clasp. The cool metal of the chain slid into place, and the crescent moon settled warm against the base of my throat.

Heavy. Solid. Beautiful.

My father’s rage seethed in the front seat, hot enough to choke on. But Darin’s fingers lingered, his thumb ghosting across the hollow of my throat before brushing away, slow and possessive. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered a single word.

“Perfect.”

The word burned into me, heavy as the necklace itself.