The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 162

I swallowed a mouthful of pancake Tyson fed me and asked, tentatively:

“So… is this going to be a normal pregnancy? Like a human one? Nine months, crying baby, stretch marks, the whole shebang?”

All three Alphas froze.

Like physically froze.

Toren slowly lowered his fork. Tyson stopped mid-chew. Talon’s mouth hung open like someone unplugged his brain.

Finally, Toren cleared his throat.

“No. Shifter pregnancies are… different.”

“Different how?” I asked, already uneasy. “Different as in longer or shorter?”

“Shorter,” he said. “Much shorter.”

I blinked. “Define ‘much.’”

“Five months.”

I stared at him.

Tyson coughed on air. Talon winced like he’d been stabbed.

The twins in the kitchen gasped so loudly the pans clattered.

“FIVE MONTHS?!” Shyanne screeched.

Marianne spun around. “Girl, you’re going to be showing in like two weeks!”

I choked on my water. “WHAT?!”

Toren lifted both hands quickly. “It’s different for special-line pregnancies, though. Since you’re… you know. Ancient bloodline. Moon-blessed. Whatever the hell category you fall into.”

Tyson added, “It could be shorter. Could be longer. Could be… something else entirely.”

“That’s not better!” I yelped.

Marianne leaned against the counter dramatically. “We need a doctor. A good one. A pack doctor who won’t report you to the Council.”

Shyanne nodded, already panicking. “Most pack doctors are registered. They’d sell their own kidneys to get in good with the Council. We need someone underground.”

That’s when a voice spoke from the doorway:

“I know someone.”

We all turned.

Mason strolled in like he hadn’t just been interrogating his deranged son, grabbed a piece of toast directly off Talon’s plate, and took a massive bite.

Talon glared. “Really?”

Mason shrugged. “What? I’m starving.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who do you know?”

“An underground blackhat pack doctor,” Mason said casually. “He owes me a favor. Well, sort of. Actually, no, he doesn’t. We hate each other. But he’s damn good and he doesn’t report to the Council.”

The twins perked up.

“Perfect!”

But Mason held up a hand. “He’s expensive. And he hates pregnancy cases. Says it’s ‘messy’ and ‘emotional’ and ‘too high liability.’ Also he once said pregnant women scare him, so…”

I stared. “Still not hearing a problem.”

Mason shrugged again. “Fair enough.”

Talon crossed his arms. “What if we call him and tell him someone is badly injured? He’ll come. He won’t ignore an emergency.”

Toren raised a brow, impressed despite himself. “Manipulating a doctor with false triage urgency? Not bad, Talon.”

Tyson smirked. “Our cupcake is rubbing off on him.”

“I heard that,” Talon snapped.

Mason rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “If he thinks someone is on the verge of bleeding out, he’ll show. He hates dying wolves almost as much as he hates babies. And once he’s here—”

“We don’t let him leave until he does the pregnancy check-up,” Toren finished.

“Exactly.” Mason nodded. “A little unethical, but effective.”

I blinked. “…We’re kidnapping a doctor?”

Tyson kissed my temple. “Borrowing. Temporarily.”

“That’s called kidnapping.”

“It’s for a good cause,” Talon reasoned.

Shyanne added, “And for the baby.”

Marianne chimed in, “And for your mental stability.”

I groaned. “Fine. Whatever. I just want to know if this is normal or if I’m going to randomly grow antlers or something.”

Tyson tensed. “Wait—can you grow antlers?”

“NO, TYSON,” I hissed.

He sighed in relief, muttering, “Thank the goddess…”

Before I could spiral further, Mason straightened, serious once more.

“I’ll go above ground and send the doctor an email. He checks his inbox every few hours. If I word it right, he’ll come rushing.”

I immediately stood up, anxiety flaring. “You’re not going alone—”

Mason lifted both hands. “Relax. I’m bringing Douglas with me. And we’ll be quick.”

Douglas appeared at the doorway a moment later, wiping his blade clean on a rag. “I heard my name. Who am I intimidating for you now?”

Mason clapped him on the back. “Doctor kidnapping.”

Douglas cracked a grin. “Fun.”

I groaned again. “Why does everything around me turn into a crime?”

Tyson kissed my cheek. “Moonshine, love, everything around you is a crime because you attract chaos.”

Talon nodded. “Constant chaos.”

Toren smirked. “Our chaos.”

My chest warmed — in spite of everything.

Mason jerked his head toward the tunnel entrance. “We’ll be back soon.”

Douglas winked at me. “Keep the baby from eating the rest of the kitchen.”

“NO PROMISES!” the twins yelled from the stove.

The silence after Mason and Douglas disappeared into the tunnels didn’t last long.

It never did around my pack.

Especially not with Tyson.

He tapped his fingers on the table, eyeing my now-empty plate, then looked up at me with a soft, mischievous smile.

“So…” he drawled, “since we’ve established you’re eating for two—maybe we should get back to baby names.”

Shyanne and Marianne froze mid–pan flip.

Then they spun around in perfect twin synchrony.

“YES,” they said at the same time, eyes gleaming like possessed sugar gremlins. “BABY NAMES.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead onto Tyson’s shoulder. “Tyson, what have you DONE?”

He looked painfully proud of himself. “Started the important conversations, Moonshine.”

“Important?” Talon snorted. “They’ve been planning gender reveals since they were seven.”

Shyanne gasped. “It’s never too early for a theme, Talon!”

Marianne nodded. “We already have color palettes. Multiple.”

Toren pinched the bridge of his nose. “Goddess save me…”

Tyson held me closer, chin on my shoulder. “Come on, love. Humor them. And us.”

I sighed dramatically, lifting my head. “Proceed with caution.”

They practically vibrated with excitement.

But then I turned to my mates.

“Okay,” I said softly. “What do you like?”

Toren was the first to speak — steady, thoughtful.

“For a boy… Theo.”

His eyes softened. “It means godly. Divine. Strong. Fitting for a child of your bloodline.”

Tyson muttered under his breath, “Show-off.”

Toren ignored him.

“And for a girl,” Toren continued, “Thea. Goddess. Or godly woman.”

Shyanne squealed like she’d been shot. “THAT’S BEAUTIFUL—”

“WRITE IT DOWN!” Marianne yelled, scrambling for a notebook.

Tyson nudged Toren with his elbow. “Alright, alright. She asked all of us.”

He looked at me then, eyes warm and bright with that fierce, protective love he wore like armor.

“For a boy,” he said, “Tate.”

I tilted my head. “Tate?”

“It means cheerful,” he said. Then he smirked. “Or little warrior. Depends on the language.”

I grinned. “I like that.”

“And for a girl,” Tyson went on, “Teagan.”

“What’s that mean?” Marianne asked.

“It means beautiful,” Tyson said simply. “And brave.”

Talon rolled his eyes. “You two are so dramatic.”

“Dramatically BETTER than you,” Tyson shot back.

“Both of you shut up,” Shyanne hissed, scribbling. “We’re WORKING.”

Then they both froze when Talon cleared his throat.

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks a little pink. “Okay, uh… mine aren’t fancy.”

Toren smirked. “Shocking.”

Talon flipped him off.

Then looked at me.

“For a girl… Tilly.”

My heart melted. “Tilly?”

He shrugged. “Means ‘strength in battle.’ Feels right.”

Shyanne squeaked. “ADORABLE.”

“And for a boy…” Talon paused. “Thatcher.”

Tyson blinked. “Like… roof-maker?”

“No, dumbass,” Talon snapped. “It means protector. Guardian. Someone who fortifies the home.”

I stared at him.

“That’s…” my voice softened, “…that’s beautiful.”