The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 156

The moment Talon spun toward the tunnel entrance, I was right behind him.

“Talon—wait—”

He didn’t.

Of course he didn’t.

His claws were already out, his body vibrating with murderous fury.

Douglas cursed and sprinted after us. Mason followed too, surprisingly fast for a man who looked like he belonged behind a mahogany desk instead of charging through underground tunnels.

By the time we reached the exit ladder, Shyanne and Marianne came stumbling after us, panting.

“Kira!” Shyanne wheezed. “You are NOT going without us—”

“Yeah,” Marianne nodded, fire in her eyes. “We aren’t letting you go chasing psycho villagers alone.”

“Psycho family villagers,” I corrected darkly.

They winced.

We climbed the ladder and emerged into the dense forest, branches scratching at our arms. Wind howled through the trees, thick with the scent of fear, blood, and something rotten.

Douglas jogged up beside me, face tight. “Luna, you should NOT be trudging through the woods while pregnant. Your mates would skin us alive. You should be resting—protected—fed—preferably not running into obvious traps—”

Talon whirled on him so fast Douglas actually flinched.

“You want to protect her?” Talon snarled. “Then HELP us find the other two so she can actually sleep for five minutes without crying her heart out.”

Douglas blinked, stunned. “I—well—I mean—yes—”

“Then shut the fuck up,” Talon snapped, “and TRACK.”

Douglas shut the fuck up instantly.

I leaned toward Marianne and whispered, “He’s kind of hot when he takes charge like that.”

Marianne muffled a snort.

Shyanne grinned.

Talon’s ears twitched — he definitely heard.

Good.

We hurried deeper into the trees.

The air shifted, the dirt thick with disturbed scents.

Toren’s trail.

Tyson’s.

And… something else.

Wrong.

Twisted.

Rotten.

We reached the place where they’d been ambushed — a clearing of trampled ferns, broken branches, and claw marks gouged into the trees.

Talon crouched, sniffing the dirt.

“They were dragged,” he growled. “Lucas didn’t even hide it.”

“Bold of him,” Douglas muttered. “Cocky.”

“No,” Mason corrected hollowly. “Desperate.”

We followed the trail.

Step by step.

Heartbeat by heartbeat.

Pain screaming through the mate bonds like distant echoes.

My stomach churned — not from nausea, but from terror.

Leaves snapped ahead.

Light flickered between the trees.

And then—

The clearing opened up.

My breath stopped.

Toren and Tyson were tied to two wooden stakes, arms pulled taut, blood dripping from gashes along their ribs. Their heads hung low, breaths shallow and ragged, skin too pale.

Talon let out a strangled noise that didn’t belong to a human throat.

“Toren…” I whispered. “Tyson…”

And then—

A shifting sound.

Wet. Bone-deep. Wrong.

The shapeshifter lurched into view.

It twisted through forms —

Talon

Tyson

Toren

back to Talon

faster and faster like it was showing off, mocking us.

Then it stilled in Talon’s shape.

But the eyes—

Not Talon.

Soulless.

Glossed with void.

Behind him stood Lucas.

Smirking.

Alive.

Arrogant.

Completely unhinged.

My sister Lyra was glued to his side, gripping his arm like a prize on display.

And my pretend mother stood a little behind them, lips curled, eyes sharp with that familiar blend of jealousy and judgment.

“Oh. My. GOD!” Lyra squealed the moment she saw me.

She practically bounced and then — in the most dramatic, attention-starved performance I’d ever seen — she grabbed Lucas by the collar and kissed him.

Loudly.

Sloppily.

Disgustingly.

Right in front of us.

I blinked.

Had a full-body shudder.

Then muttered, “Wow. Congratulations, Lyra. You found someone who’s both your mate and your therapist.”

Shyanne choked on a laugh.

Marianne snorted so hard she nearly bent over.

Even Douglas coughed into his hand.

Lyra pulled away and glared at me, wiping her mouth like she’d just eaten a lemon. “You’re just jealous Lucas chose me.”

I stared at her.

Then stared at Lucas.

Then back at her.

“…Chosen you? He tried to have me KILLED.”

She puffed her chest out. “But he didn’t succeed. And now he’s moved on. That means I win.”

“Win what?” I asked. “A lobotomized circus clown?”

Marianne wheezed.

Even Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lucas smirked and stepped forward.

“Oh, Kira,” he purred, “you always did have a sharp tongue. Shame you won’t need it where you’re going.”

The shapeshifter shifted again — this time morphing into ME.

My blood froze.

Talon growled so violently the earth shook.

Douglas took a step forward.

Mason grabbed my arm.

And Lucas just smiled wider.

“You came right to me,” he said. “Just like I knew you would.”

The air trembled.

The ground vibrated.

My heart hammered.

This was the trap.

And we walked right into it.

The shapeshifter twitched.

Once.

Twice.

Then its bones cracked and twisted, flesh rippling like boiling oil until it snapped fully into Talon’s form again — fangs bared, claws extended, eyes empty.

Lucas frowned. “Shift back into Kira.”

The shapeshifter trembled and tried.

Its features blurred—

Cheekbones stretched—

Skin rippled—

But then—

SNAP.

It reverted violently back into Talon’s shape, panting.

Lucas’s expression soured. “I said shift into HER.”

The shapeshifter tried again.

Failed.

Again.

Failed.

Finally it gasped, voice distorted, “S-something… something is wrong—I can’t—I can’t hold her shape—”

I smiled.

Slow.

Sharp.

Cold.

Lyra screeched immediately, “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

I shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. Maybe the universe finally decided to protect something worth protecting.”

Lyra stomped her foot like a toddler denied candy. “LIAR! You cursed him—didn’t you?! You evil—”

“Oh please,” I cut in. “The only curse here is your personality.”

Douglas choked on air.

Shyanne muffled a snort.

Talon growled in amusement despite being mid-battle.

Even Mason looked like he wanted to laugh but was too horrified by the situation.

Lucas’s jaw ticked. “You think this changes anything? I don’t need him to be you to break you.”

Mason stepped forward then — slow, deliberate, like a father approaching a son standing on a ledge.

“Lucas,” Mason said gently. “Enough. You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve been misled, hurt, angry—yes. I understand that. But this isn’t the answer.”

Lucas barked a laugh. “Oh? Here comes Father of the Year, ready to give advice about morality?”

Douglas stepped up beside Mason, gaze burning into Lucas. “He’s trying to help you. Like he always tried. You’re the one who ran.”

Lucas snapped his glare to Douglas. “Shut up. Both of you. I’m done being the odd man out. Done being the mistake no one wanted. The black sheep of the family.”

I stiffened.

Mason flinched like he’d been stabbed. “Lucas, you were never—”

“Yes, I WAS.” Lucas’s voice cracked into madness. “You chose her. The forbidden daughter. The little secret. You always wanted HER.”

He pointed at me.

My stomach dropped.

Douglas whispered, horrified, “Lucas… this isn’t you.”

“This is EXACTLY me,” Lucas snarled. “I’m tired of being ignored. Tired of being forgotten. Tired of being the one who gets NOTHING.”

He stepped forward, eyes glowing with unstable power.

“And I’m done listening to you. Or Douglas. Or ANYONE.”

He grinned — wild, sharp.

“I’m taking her. Kira is MINE. She ALWAYS was. And that’s FINAL.”