The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 147

The moment my lips touched his, Tyson froze.

His body went rigid beneath my hands, muscles locking like stone. The SUV seemed to shrink around us. The world narrowed to the point where our mouths met—

And the transfer began.

I felt something unravel inside me.

A thread of memory.

Of pain.

Of truth.

It moved from me into him.

Tyson’s hand spasmed against my waist. His breath stuttered. His heartbeat exploded into a furious rhythm I felt through every part of him.

Images surged into him—the burning pack, Elder Thora watching, the screaming mother, the slaughter, the twelve-year-old girl whose neck snapped like a twig. The enforcers digging, the Elders smirking, the bodies, the blood, the innocent faces.

Tyson’s aura flared—dark, violent, unhinged.

A growl tore from his throat so deep and primal the SUV rattled.

“Tyson—?” Toren barked.

“What’s happening?” Talon’s voice rose in alarm.

Douglas reached for the door handle like he was ready to drag Tyson outside to stop him from exploding.

I didn’t break the kiss.

I couldn’t.

The goddess said to show him everything.

Tyson’s hands trembled as the vision surged. His jaw clenched. His breath hissed through his teeth. Anger—white hot, brutal—rolled off him like a physical force.

When I finally pulled away, his eyes weren’t gray anymore.

They were pitch black.

Full wolf.

Full fury.

Full understanding.

His chest heaved. His hands shook violently. “Moon… what—” His voice cracked. “What the hell was that?”

He sounded wrecked.

Traumatized.

Terrified for me.

And furious beyond reason.

I reached up, cupped his face tenderly.

“That,” I whispered, “is what the Council is doing to the other packs.”

Silence fell—shaking, heavy, suffocating.

Tyson’s throat bobbed.

Toren’s breath hitched.

Talon whispered, “Gods…”

Douglas swore under his breath.

Tyson grabbed my wrists—gentle but desperate. “They did that to children.”

“Yes.”

“And Thora—she just stood there—”

“Yes.”

“And the Elder—he snapped that girl’s neck like it was nothing—”

“Yes.”

His voice broke.

“They’re monsters.”

I nodded.

“They’re coming for us,” I whispered. “For me. They’re cleansing anyone who might resist. Anyone with abilities. Anyone with ancient blood.”

Tyson shook, rage boiling so violently I felt it burn through the bond.

His hands tightened on my face, pulling me closer, foreheads pressed together.

“We’ll kill them,” he whispered. “Every last one. I swear it.”

Toren twisted around, face pale and furious. “What did you show him?”

“Everything,” Tyson answered, voice shaking.

Talon looked like he might be sick. “We need a plan. Gods, we need a plan.”

Douglas exhaled slowly. “The Council’s worse than I thought.”

Tyson didn’t look away from me.

“What else did she tell you?” he asked, voice trembling with fear and fury.

I swallowed.

“This is only the beginning.”

He closed his eyes like the words physically hurt him.

Then he kissed my forehead—soft, fierce, desperate.

“You should’ve given that vision to me first,” Toren muttered from the front. “I could handle it.”

Tyson wheeled on him. “No. You couldn’t.”

Talon leaned forward. “We can share it, right? She can give it to all of us?”

I shook my head. “She only gave me enough strength for one transfer.”

Toren inhaled slowly. “Then Tyson tells us everything. After we get somewhere safe.”

Tyson nodded.

But he kept his eyes on me.

All anger, worry, fear, devotion.

“Moon,” he whispered shakily, “don’t ever do that alone again.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because the vision was still burning in my chest.

And this was only the start.

The air in the SUV felt too tight.

Tyson still held my hands like they were the only things keeping him sane. Toren had gone silent in that scary alpha-thinking way. Talon looked like he wanted to wrap himself around me like a weighted blanket.

The atmosphere was one spark away from turning into another emotional explosion.

Which is exactly why Shyanne clapped her hands.

Loud.

“OKAY,” she said brightly, startling everyone. “We need to talk about something else before all three of you combust and Kira ends up passing out again.”

Marianne leaned over the seat, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yeah. Something happy. Something cute. Something that doesn’t involve murder or trauma or ancient bloodlines.”

Toren huffed. “What exactly do you suggest?”

Shyanne grinned.

“Well… we were wondering—Kira… have you thought of any baby names?”

I blinked at her.

Baby names.

Baby names.

I stared.

They stared back.

“I just found out I’m pregnant five minutes ago,” I said slowly. “I haven’t exactly had time to brainstorm.”

Shyanne waved this off theatrically.

“That’s fine. We’ll help.”

Marianne nodded eagerly.

“If it’s a boy, it should start with T, obviously. To match the three of you.”

She pointed at Toren, Tyson, and Talon like she was presenting a lineup on a game show.

Shyanne immediately started listing names.

“Tristan. Theo. Thane. Tiberius—”

“Absolutely not,” Talon muttered.

Tyson snorted. “You want me to name my kid after a Roman emperor?”

“Okay, okay,” Shyanne said, thinking hard. “Tucker. Tanner. Tate—”

Toren rubbed his eyes. “Gods help us.”

Marianne jumped in. “It might be a girl, you know. So—T names for girls!”

“Talia,” Shyanne said instantly.

“Tessa,” Marianne added.

“Tinsley,” Shyanne said.

“Tanith!” Marianne said, sounding proud.

Talon groaned. “You’re both obsessed.”

The twins ignored him completely.

They were on a roll.

“Teagan!”

“Tahlia!”

“Taya!”

“Tori—wait, no, that’s too close to Toren—”

“I’m begging you,” Toren muttered. “Stop.”

Tyson pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re naming our child after an alphabet trend?”

Talon finally snapped.

“What if she doesn’t want a T name at all?”

The SUV fell silent.

Shyanne and Marianne both gasped—like Talon had just suggested kicking a puppy.

“Oh my gods,” Shyanne whispered.

“That’s true,” Marianne said, horrified. “Kira deserves options.”

Their expressions turned serious.

Deadly serious.

Marianne put a hand on her chest.

“We need K names.”

Shyanne nodded sharply.

“Definitely.”

I blinked. “Why K names?”

Marianne gave me a look.

“So it matches yours, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Shyanne added. “It’s adorable. It’s aesthetic. It’s destiny.”

Talon whispered, “Please don’t say destiny again.”

But the twins were already brainstorming like two caffeine-fueled squirrels.

“Kai!”

“Kade!”

“Kieran!”

“Knox!”

“Kyran!”

“Kallen!”

Tyson stared at them, horrified. “Why do all K boy names sound like troublemakers?”

“Because they’re badass,” Shyanne said.

“For girls,” Marianne continued, “we’ve got—Kylie, Kiera, Kinsley, Kaia, Kallista, Kiarra—”

“Isn’t that just her name but with extra letters?” Tyson asked.

“Shut up,” Marianne said sweetly.

Toren finally twisted back in his seat.

“What if we let Kira breathe before we name the kid?”

Everyone turned to stare at him like he’d just ruined Christmas.

Tyson held up a hand.

“Kira… do you want the kid’s name to start with a T?”

“No pressure,” Talon added quickly.

“Or a K,” Marianne whispered.

“Or,” Shyanne said dramatically, “something completely shocking. Like… Bob.”

Everyone stared.

Even Douglas, in the seat behind us, choked.

That did it.

A laugh tore out of me—sharp, unexpected, almost painful—but real.

They all froze.

Toren softened.

Talon deflated in relief.

Tyson pressed a kiss to my temple.

Shyanne and Marianne beamed.

I wiped my cheek.

“Not Bob.”

“Damn,” Marianne sighed.

Mason cleared his throat.

“Alright,” he said, “We’re about ten minutes from the dead zone.”

Silence.