The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 131

We hit the door at a run. The air outside was cold and sharp, the yard slick from last night’s rain. Torches along the drive threw wild light over everything—guards, mud, and the glint of chains.

Douglas was at the center of it all.

Bound. Kneeling. Heavy iron links bit into his wrists, blood dark against the metal. Council guards flanked him on both sides—eight, maybe ten. And in front of them stood two men in long black coats lined with silver thread: Council robes.

Their faces were familiar in the way nightmares are—half-remembered, half-forgotten. I couldn’t recall their names, but I knew the type. Cold. Confident. Dangerous.

Elder Thora wasn’t among them.

Tyson’s voice was already a growl. “What do you want?”

The taller elder pointed straight at me. “Luna Kira. We need to speak with you. Now.”

I let out a thin laugh. “Really? You chain up my half-brother and then ask for a friendly chat? You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”

The shorter elder’s lip twitched. “This is a sensitive matter. It cannot be discussed publicly.”

“Then don’t whisper,” I said. “Say what you came to say—right here, in front of my mates and my pack. I have nothing to hide.”

The tall one’s voice hardened. “If you want your brother back in one piece, you’ll do as we ask.”

That was the wrong threat.

I turned to Tyson, my tone calm enough to be dangerous. “Mind-link everyone. Tell them to plug their ears and get ready. I want two wolves ready to move the second I give the signal.”

He blinked at me, confused for half a heartbeat. Then his eyes widened—realization. He nodded once and murmured low to Toren, the bond between them flashing bright for an instant.

Toren’s expression darkened. Understood.

I faced the Council again. “Using Douglas as a bargaining chip is bold,” I said softly. “Also incredibly stupid.”

“You don’t have a choice,” the second elder replied. “We will speak to you privately.”

“The only Council member I speak to alone is Elder Thora,” I said. “If she isn’t here, you get nothing.”

His mouth opened to argue. He never got the chance.

Something inside me broke loose. All the heat, all the fury, all the guilt from the night before—everything I’d been holding down—rose like a tide and exploded upward. My lungs filled, my heart burned, and I screamed.

It wasn’t just a sound. It was power—pure, primal, and ancient. It rippled across the clearing in waves. The nearest guards staggered as if struck by lightning; the chains binding Douglas rattled and cracked. The elders clutched their ears, blood running from between their fingers. The air itself seemed to vibrate.

“Talon—now!” I heard someone shout—maybe Tyson, maybe Toren—but the world had gone muffled, everything drowned by the roar in my own head.

Through the haze I saw Talon move, fast and sure. He reached Douglas, his claws slicing through the links like butter. The chains snapped with a scream of metal. In the same motion, Talon hauled him up, slung him across his back, and sprinted for the house. Two of our warriors met him halfway, taking Douglas’s weight, dragging him toward safety.

When the last guard dropped to his knees, I cut the scream off. The silence that followed felt deafening. My lungs burned, my throat was raw, and the world tilted sideways.

Toren was beside me in an instant, steadying me before I fell. “Easy,” he murmured, one hand on my back. “Breathe, Starlight. You did good.”

I managed a rough laugh that sounded more like a cough. “Define good.”

He gave me that rare, crooked grin that never reached his eyes. “They’re still standing. Barely. I’ll take it.”

One of the elders—the taller one—staggered forward, his ears bleeding. “You will regret this, Luna,” he rasped. “The Council does not forgive defiance.”

Toren straightened to his full height, his Alpha aura flaring bright enough to make the remaining guards flinch. “You should have gone through proper channels. You don’t threaten a Luna on her own land. You don’t come with chains and expect diplomacy.”

Tyson’s voice came from behind me, low and lethal. “Every pack will hear about this. About you. About what the Council just tried to do. You think you rule because people fear you? Wait until they start hating you.”

The second elder—shorter, heavier, his face red with fury—looked ready to explode. But before he could, the taller one caught his arm. “Enough,” he hissed.

He turned to me then, eyes flat and cold. “We will be back.”

I met his stare, my voice hoarse but steady. “Then you’d better bring better chains.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. The night wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of iron and burnt ozone. Then the Council guards pulled their wounded to their feet. The two elders backed away, their robes dragging trails through the mud as they vanished toward the forest road.

Only when they were gone did the pack exhale.

Tyson muttered, “Well. That escalated quickly.”

Talon jogged back from the doorway, breathless but grinning. “Douglas is fine. Pissed, but fine.”

“Good,” Toren said. “He’ll need that anger.”

I wiped blood from my lip with the back of my hand. “Next time they show up, we won’t just scream them off our lawn.”

Tyson smirked. “You planning on vaporizing them instead?”

“Something like that,” I said.

He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Above us, thunder rumbled—a sound too close, too deliberate to be weather. The pack stiffened. Toren’s gaze snapped toward the horizon, and the hairs on my arms stood up.

From the tree line where the Council had vanished, a thin column of silver light shot skyward, twisting into the clouds like a beacon.

Toren’s voice was grim. “That’s not a retreat signal.”

Tyson cursed under his breath. “Then what is it?”

Douglas’s voice came from the doorway behind us, weak but steady. “It’s a marker,” he said. “They’re calling for reinforcements.”

The silver light pulsed again—brighter this time, spreading like fire through the clouds.

I stared at it, throat raw, heart pounding. “Then we don’t have long.”