The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 113

The house felt like a cage.

Every second that passed scraped against my nerves like claws on stone. I’d managed to get everyone safely inside — cubs huddled close to their mothers, warriors scattered across the entryway, tense and waiting. The air was thick with fear, with confusion. The pack could feel their Alphas fighting, even if they didn’t understand why.

A few of the warriors started pacing near the windows, ears twitching at every distant noise. One finally turned to me.

“Luna, permission to go back out there—”

“No.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, but it made them all still. “Not yet. Until one of the Alphas calls for you, no one leaves this house. Do you understand?”

They exchanged uneasy glances, but they nodded. No one wanted to defy me — not when the air outside reeked of dominance and danger.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to stop trembling. The twins stood with me near the back door, both of them silent, alert. Marianne had her hand on the hilt of one of her blades, her gaze fixed on the trees beyond the windows. Shyanne was pacing — restless, anxious — her wolf hovering just beneath her skin.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Shyanne asked quietly.

“They’re Alphas,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if it was reassurance or denial. “They’ll be fine.”

But my gut twisted tighter with every heartbeat.

Minutes bled into each other. The house had gone eerily quiet. Only the faint creak of the old floorboards and the low breathing of my pack filled the silence.

Then it happened.

A yell.

A sharp, raw yell.

My name.

“Kira!”

I didn’t even think. My body just moved.

I ripped open the back door so fast it slammed against the wall. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting. Behind me, Shyanne shouted my name, but I was already running toward the sound. The twins were on my heels, and a handful of warriors followed without hesitation.

Branches whipped at my arms as we tore through the trees, feet pounding over damp earth. The scent of blood hit me before we reached the clearing.

And then I saw it.

Tyson.

He was on the ground — sprawled, blood soaking through his shirt, his hands clawing weakly at the dirt. His throat… gods, his throat. It wasn’t just bleeding. It was ripped open.

Toren was kneeling beside him, his hands pressed hard against the wound, his face twisted with fury and panic. “Stay with me, brother,” he growled under his breath.

I froze for half a second, the sight knocking the air from my lungs — and then instinct took over.

“Move!” I dropped to my knees beside them, ignoring the slick, hot blood that stained my hands. “Shyanne, Marianne — watch our backs. No one gets close.”

The twins snapped into motion, claws drawn as they turned outward. The warriors formed a circle around us, eyes scanning the dark woods for movement.

Toren’s voice was ragged. “He’s losing too much—”

“I know,” I cut him off, my voice shaking but firm. “I’ve got him.”

I pressed my hands over Tyson’s throat, my palms slick with blood. My power surged up from deep within me — a sharp, burning pulse that spread through my veins.

The pain hit instantly. His agony became mine. The air left my lungs as if I’d been stabbed, and my vision blurred. Every nerve in my body screamed as I forced the healing through the wound.

“Come on,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Come on, Tyson. Stay with me.”

The raw flesh began to knit together under my palms. The bleeding slowed, the shredded muscle and torn veins closing one by one. My arms shook violently, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Then — finally — the wound sealed. Tyson gasped, sucking in a harsh, desperate breath. His eyes fluttered open, glassy but alive.

Toren exhaled a shaky breath and eased him up by the shoulder. “You stubborn bastard,” he muttered.

Tyson coughed weakly, his voice hoarse. “Guess I owe her one.”

I sagged backward, my body trembling, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Marianne rushed forward and caught me before I hit the ground, guiding me to lean against her shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “Just breathe, Luna.”

Shyanne’s voice came from a few feet away, sharp and alert. “Still no sign of Talon!”

Toren’s head snapped up, his face darkening. He stood, scanning the clearing, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. “He’s close. I can smell him. But something’s—” He broke off, his jaw tightening. “Something’s wrong.”

My stomach turned cold. “What do you mean?”

Toren’s gaze flicked toward me, his expression grim. “That wasn’t a spar gone wrong. Tyson didn’t fight back. This wasn’t a dominance scuffle. Talon attacked him — and he meant it.”

Tyson wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand, his voice gravelly. “He didn’t even hesitate. It was like—” He stopped, frowning. “Like he didn’t know who I was.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Marianne’s voice was low but steady. “That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.”

Toren turned sharply to her. “Tell me what?”

I pushed myself upright, still leaning on Marianne for balance. “Marianne noticed something after the ceremony. She said Talon hasn’t been acting right.”

Marianne nodded, her eyes flicking between the two Alphas. “He’s been off ever since the car bomb. The day it went off, he disappeared for ten minutes. Said he was looking for injured pack members, but now I’m not so sure.”

Toren’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You think something happened to him then.”

“I don’t think,” she said quietly. “I know. He’s different. His scent, his mannerisms — even his aura. It’s like he’s still Talon… but not.”

Tyson’s jaw clenched, his fists curling. “You’re saying that thing out there isn’t my brother?”

Marianne met his gaze without flinching. “I’m saying it might not only be him anymore.”