The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 111

I looked between them. “A cost?”

Shyanne hesitated before answering. “Every pain you take leaves a mark. Maybe not physical—but you carry pieces of it. The grief, the fear, the hurt. It settles in you until you learn to release it.”

Tyson stepped closer, his hand brushing my arm, his voice low and careful. “That’s why most Lunas never channel after their first time. It’s… too much. You heal them, but you feel it all, Moon. Every ounce of pain they can’t bear.”

The weight of his words sank into me like a stone sinking in deep water. “So this power—this thing—it’s not something I can control?”

Toren met my gaze, steady and calm. “You will. In time. But you need to understand—what you did tonight? You didn’t just lead a ritual. You bound the pack to you.”

Talon gave a low whistle, half awe, half nerves. “So, what, you’re telling me she just spiritually super-glued herself to two hundred wolves in one night?”

Shyanne snorted. “Pretty much.”

Marianne elbowed her. “Show some respect.”

Tyson chuckled darkly, though there was warmth—admiration—in his eyes. “Leave it to my Moon to accidentally rewrite half our history books.”

The laughter that followed was soft, genuine. For the first time since the explosion, the heaviness around us finally began to ease. The air felt lighter, calmer, like the pack itself was exhaling after holding its breath too long.

I let the quiet settle, the tension bleeding away into the cool night breeze. I exhaled slowly, offering a small smile. “Alright,” I said, letting my voice carry across the courtyard. “Enough with the staring and the whispers. Let’s eat before someone passes out.”

A ripple of laughter followed—gentle, grateful.

Toren stepped forward, taking my hand for a brief moment before releasing it, his voice rising with that natural command that always made people still. “You heard your Luna,” he said, deep and steady. “Jake and the others have a feast waiting near the fire pit. Go. Eat. Drink. Celebrate our fallen with laughter and strength—not sorrow.”

A chorus of murmurs echoed in agreement. The crowd began to move as one—wolves, mates, warriors—drifting toward the long tables under the pale wash of moonlight. The scent of smoke and roasted meat curled through the cool air, warm and earthy, grounding.

Tyson brushed past me on his way after them, his fingers ghosting along my lower back. “Moon, I’ll make sure no one burns the place down,” he murmured with that crooked grin that always made my heart twist.

Talon followed after him, slower, quieter. He didn’t look back.

Something about that made my stomach tighten.

The twins stayed behind, one on each side of me like twin shadows, their energy familiar and steady. Shyanne looped her arm through mine, grinning. “You did amazing, Luna. Like—moonlight-on-skin amazing. When you started glowing? I swear I got goosebumps.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously proud, maybe.” She squeezed my hand. “Come on, let’s get you some food before you face-plant.”

She started toward the tables, already waving down one of the warriors for a plate. But Marianne didn’t move.

When I turned, I found her still standing there, her expression tight, her eyes following Talon through the crowd.

“Marianne?” I asked quietly. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her lips parted, closed again, then she finally whispered, “Something’s off with Talon.”

A faint unease stirred low in my stomach. “Off how?”

Her brows furrowed, her tone calm but edged with worry. “He’s… not acting like himself. Not since the car bomb. And now—” she hesitated, glancing toward the firelight where he stood beside Tyson, his face lit in warm orange glow— “the way he looked at you tonight… it wasn’t with love.”

My heart stumbled. “What do you mean?”

Marianne shook her head slightly, lowering her voice even more. “It was something else, Kira. Something darker. I don’t know what’s going on with him… but whatever it is—” she swallowed, her eyes narrowing as she watched him laugh at something Tyson said— “he’s hiding it well.”

I followed her gaze.

Talon was standing beside his brothers, his hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted as he laughed at something Tyson said. But the laugh didn’t sound right. Too sharp. Too practiced. His eyes flicked briefly toward me—quick, deliberate—and something inside me went cold.

There was nothing soft in that look. No mischief. No warmth. Just… calculation.

He turned away just as fast, clapping Tyson on the shoulder, but my chest was already tightening.

“You’re imagining it,” I muttered, half to Marianne, half to myself.

She frowned. “Am I?”

“I know him,” I insisted, though my voice trembled. “He wouldn’t hurt me. Not Talon.”

“I’m not saying he would,” she said gently. “But something’s different. You can feel it, can’t you?”

I didn’t answer, because I could.

My wolf shifted uneasily beneath my skin, her hackles rising. She didn’t growl—just… watched. Waiting.

The firelight caught across Talon’s face again, and for a second, I swore I saw something flicker in his expression—a twitch, a flash of something almost… hollow.

I blinked, and it was gone.

The sound of laughter swelled again around the fire, but it didn’t reach me. My pulse was pounding in my ears.

Marianne laid a hand on my arm. “Just keep an eye on him. Please.”

I nodded slowly, but my gaze stayed fixed on Talon.

He was talking again now, smiling easily, head tilted like the carefree man I’d known since the day we met. And yet… something in me recoiled.

For the first time since I’d accepted his bond, I didn’t recognize the man standing in front of me.

And when his eyes found mine again across the crowd—when his smile stretched just a little too wide, his stare holding just a little too long—

a chill ran down my spine so deep I could taste it.

Because behind that smile…

there was something else.

Something watching.

Something wrong.

And as the fire crackled between us, I knew—whatever it was wearing Talon’s skin—

it was very, very good at pretending.