The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 163

The kitchen had finally settled into a warm, delicious chaos — sizzling pans, stacked plates, the smell of eggs and fried potatoes, Tyson feeding me bites off my plate like I was going to disappear if he didn’t, Toren rubbing circles on my thigh, Talon bumping shoulders with me every time he reached for something.

For the first time in days…

It felt almost normal.

Almost.

Because the moment Mason and Douglas stepped through the tunnel entrance, everything in the kitchen shifted.

Mason carried the cold bite of the outside tunnels on him, and Douglas… well, Douglas looked like he’d just run ten rounds with another shapeshifter but was trying very hard to pretend otherwise.

Talon immediately straightened.

Toren’s hand stilled on my leg.

Tyson set down his fork.

Shyanne and Marianne stopped mid–stir.

Mason brushed off the dirt from his jacket and announced, “The doctor is on his way.”

Everyone exhaled in collective relief.

But then Mason added, voice lowering, weightier:

“And before he gets here… we need to talk. There are things you all need to know. Things we got out of Lucas.”

The kitchen froze again.

Douglas leaned against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Yeah. You’re all gonna want to sit for this.”

Talon didn’t sit. He stepped forward.

His expression was dark—controlled only because of me, because he didn’t want me feeling the storm underneath.

But he didn’t sugarcoat it.

He looked at everyone in the room, then said:

“Lucas didn’t get his power from the Council.”

Toren’s eyebrows furrowed. Tyson clenched his jaw. The twins leaned closer together like magnets.

Talon continued, voice low and sharp,

“He bargained with a witch.”

A ripple of shock traveled the room.

Mason nodded grimly. “An old one. Very old. Someone who should have been dead centuries ago.”

Douglas added, “She wasn’t on any records. Not Council-affiliated. Not pack-affiliated. Just… older than any of us and willing to trade.”

Marianne swallowed hard. “Trade? For what?”

Talon’s eyes flicked to me. For a heartbeat, his jaw softened—then hardened again.

“She gave Lucas abilities because he offered her his firstborn.”

Shyanne gasped and immediately reached for her sister’s arm.

Marianne whispered, voice trembling, “That’s… that’s a blood oath. That’s forbidden magic. That’s—”

“Deadly,” Mason finished. “And old witches don’t give power unless they know it benefits them. Lucas lied to acquire abilities he had no right to access.”

I felt my stomach drop, even through the hunger still gnawing at me.

“What exactly did she give him?” I asked quietly.

Talon answered:

“Partial compulsion. Shadow-binding. And the ability to manipulate illusion through flesh.” His lip curled. “Which is how he controlled the shapeshifter.”

Marianne covered her mouth. “He can control other beings?”

Talon nodded. “He could. Before the Moon Goddess burned that connection out of him.”

Shyanne’s voice wavered. “But if he bargained his firstborn… doesn’t that mean he has to actually have one? Is that why he wanted—”

Toren growled. “Yes.”

Tyson snarled, “Over my fucking dead body.”

I grabbed Tyson’s wrist gently, grounding him before his glow shook the whole damn kitchen apart.

Talon ran a hand through his hair, pacing once. “He didn’t want me, Toren, or Tyson dead. He wanted us weakened. Out of the way. But he didn’t want to kill us. He wanted—”

“Me,” I finished, sick to my stomach.

Talon nodded. “Because the witch told him the stronger the mate, the stronger the child. And with your bloodline? He thought he could make a weapon.”

Marianne whispered something in another language under her breath. Probably a prayer.

Shyanne hugged herself. “That witch… she won’t just take Lucas’s baby, will she? She’ll take anything. Anyone. Even ours if she gets the chance.”

The fear in their eyes hit me hard — real fear, not the kind that warriors hid behind bravado. They’d already lost so much. Lost homes. Friends. Loved ones.

Douglas exhaled. “She’s not coming for you two. She got what she wanted — Lucas’s promise.”

Toren shook his head. “A promise is only as binding as the witch who seals it. And from what Mason described? This one doesn’t stop at bargains.”

I looked to Mason. “Who is she?”

Mason rubbed his temples. “A name older than the Council itself. Her magic is older too. And Lucas didn’t find her by accident.”

Tyson frowned. “So who sent him?”

Mason hesitated.

Douglas answered for him. “We think someone else is working behind all this. Someone who wants the ancient bloodlines wiped out.”

Toren growled under his breath.

Tyson muttered, “Of course there’s someone else. We can’t ever get just one villain.”

Talon snorted. “Would be too easy.”

Despite the fear, the tension, the weight of everything…

That made the twins crack tiny smiles.

But then their expressions dropped again when Shyanne whispered,

“What if the witch comes for the baby? Kira’s baby?”

I froze.

Toren’s hand clamped onto my thigh.

Tyson’s arm tightened around me.

Talon moved closer instinctively—protective, guarding, braced to destroy anything that breathed wrong in my direction.

“No witch,” Toren said quietly, “is touching our pup.”

Tyson leaned forward, voice a low promise, “We’ll burn the whole world before we let that happen.”

Talon’s eyes darkened. “And the Moon Goddess herself just blessed us. She won’t allow it.”

Mason stepped in then, hands on the counter, steady but tired. “Which is why we need the doctor. Now more than ever. He’ll know what signs to look for. And what protections we need.”

Toren looked at him sharply. “And he’s still coming?”

“He’s on the way,” Douglas confirmed. “Secret route. No one’s tracking him.”

Talon exhaled, tension loosening just barely. “Good.”

Tyson kissed the side of my head.

Toren brushed a thumb across my knuckles.

Talon leaned down and whispered against my ear, “We’re not letting anything near you, firefly."

I froze.

Firefly?

My head snapped toward him, brow lifting. “Firefly?” I echoed. “When did I become a bug?”

Tyson choked on a laugh.

Toren smirked into his cup.

Talon just grinned—the slow, wicked kind that always gave me trouble.

“Oh?” he teased. “So cupcake wasn’t cutting it anymore.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “But this? This fits.”

I tried not to melt. I failed.

“And why is that?” I asked softly.

His eyes warmed—deep, reverent, aching.

“Because fireflies,” he murmured, “shine brightest in the dark. They don’t wait for daylight. They don’t need it. They make their own light.”

The room went quiet.

He stepped even closer, cupping my cheek gently.

“And that’s you, Firefly. No matter how dark the world gets… you burn anyway. You guide us home.”