The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 164

Toren’s voice carried through the central room like a thunderclap.

“All right — head count. Warriors, trackers, she-wolves, pups — speak up.”

One by one, voices echoed back.

Here.

Here.

Here.

My mates flanked me, silent but tense, each of them listening with sharp ears and sharpened instincts.

Toren lifted his clipboard again, scanning the list and doing math under his breath.

Then he stiffened.

“We’re missing two,” he announced, voice dropping.

The room stilled instantly.

He said their names — Rowan and Cale — two wolves who had volunteered to act as runners hours ago.

No one responded.

No voice echoed back through the mind link.

Nothing but silence.

Toren closed his eyes, his jaw locking tight. “…The link isn’t reaching them.”

Tyson swallowed hard. “That means two things.”

Everyone waited.

“One,” Toren continued, “they’re out of range. Alive, just… too far.”

“And two?” Talon asked, even though we all knew.

Toren exhaled through his nose. “They’re dead.”

A sickening wave rolled through the room. A few wolves whimpered. One she-wolf covered her mouth and sobbed quietly.

My throat tightened painfully.

Before we could even process the grief—

A loud metallic bang echoed through the tunnels.

Every warrior was instantly on their feet.

Talon shoved me behind him. Tyson pulled me closer. Toren lifted his hand, signaling the pack to get ready.

Then footsteps shuffled toward the main door.

Douglas grabbed his knife.

Mason stepped in front of me.

The door swung open—

A man stumbled through.

Older. Wiry. Carrying a battered medical bag. Clothes rumpled from travel. Eyes darting around the tunnel like he’d just walked into a horror movie.

The doctor.

He froze when he saw dozens of wolves staring at him.

“Uh,” he said weakly. “House call?”

Before he could blink, three massive Alphas surrounded him — Talon, Tyson, Toren — patting him down, checking every pocket, rifling through his bag.

“Hey—HEY—those are sterile instruments!” the doctor yelped as Tyson pulled out a scalpel. “Put that back in its— don’t touch that! That’s a bone saw, not a— STOP OPENING EVERYTHING!”

Talen squinted at a pack of gauze. “Why is this wet?”

“Because my water bottle exploded in my bag! How is that relevant right now?!”

Tyson sniffed a disinfectant bottle. “This expired last month.”

The doctor yanked it back. “So did my patience but nobody’s examining THAT today!”

When the alphas were finally satisfied and stepped back, the doctor straightened his coat with trembling hands.

“Okay,” he wheezed. “Where’s the dying patient? Very urgent tone in the message. Very alarming. Let’s fix whoever is bleeding out so I can go home and pretend I didn’t just get frisked by three linebackers on steroids.”

Douglas silently walked behind him and shut the tunnel door.

The lock echoed like a prison cell.

The doctor’s head snapped around.

“…Why did you lock that?”

Mason cleared his throat. “We need you to examine someone. Someone important.”

“Fine,” the doctor said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Which one of these psychos is my patient?”

Toren, Tyson, and Talon parted like a dramatic curtain.

And there I stood.

The doctor blinked once.

Twice.

“Her?” He pointed at me. “She looks perfectly healthy. Little pale. Maybe constipated. But fine.”

Tyson growled.

The doctor flinched so hard he almost swallowed his tongue. “I MEAN SHE LOOKS VIBRANT AND HEALTHY AND STRONG AS AN OX, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME.”

Mason stepped forward. “She’s pregnant.”

The doctor stared.

“…Come again?”

“Pregnant,” Mason repeated. “And she needs a full exam. Quietly. No reports to the Council.”

The doctor blinked.

Then he blinked harder.

Then he made a sound between a laugh and a sob.

“Oh NO,” he whispered. “NO, NO, NO. Absolutely not. I don’t deliver babies. I sew arms back on. I take bullets out of people. I mend broken ribs and occasionally reattach an ear. PREGNANT WOMEN ARE ABOVE MY PAYGRADE.”

“We’ll pay you,” Toren said flatly.

“That’s not the—” The doctor gestured at me wildly. “Do you understand what happens when the Council finds out I examined their target?! THEY’LL USE MY SPINE AS A COAT RACK!”

Douglas leaned in. “You’ll be fine.”

“That is EXACTLY what someone says before a man gets stabbed.”

Mason crossed his arms. “You’re staying.”

The doctor let out a strangled noise. “Oh gods. I’m never seeing daylight again. My retirement plan is ruined. My wife is going to think I ran off with a younger woman—”

“I’m right here,” I said dryly.

He turned, paler than before. “You’re pregnant. You don’t count as younger.”

Tyson bristled. “Watch it.”

“RIGHT,” the doctor squeaked. “Okay! Great! Pregnancy! Let’s… do this before I faint!”

Mason gestured him toward my room.

The doctor whispered as he walked, “I swear if that child has fangs I’m retiring on the spot.”

The doctor followed us down the tunnel like a man being led to his execution.

Which, honestly, I couldn’t blame him for assuming.

The moment we reached the Alpha quarters, he stopped dead.

Stared at the bed.

Stared at me.

Stared at my three very large, very territorial Alphas hovering behind me like overcaffeinated gargoyles.

Then he swallowed hard.

“Okay,” he croaked. “Let’s begin… the… baby check.”

Tyson cracked his knuckles.

Talon crossed his arms, claws tapping his biceps.

Toren had his arms around me, chin on my shoulder, eyes locked on the doctor like he was deciding what organ to rip out first.

The doctor whispered under his breath, “I should’ve been a dentist.”

The doctor set his bag on the bed and cleared his throat.

“Right. First rule. No killing me if I say something medically honest.”

“No promises,” Tyson said.

The doctor paled. “Okay… rule withdrawn.”

He pointed to the bed. “Lie down, Luna.”

Side-eye from Talon.

Growl from Toren.

A death glare from Tyson.

The doctor whimpered. “Lie down gently, Luna?”

Toren helped me onto the bed as the doctor opened his bag, muttering:

“Please don’t shift, please don’t shift, please don’t shift…”

He pulled out a stethoscope.

Tyson snorted. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s standard equipment!” the doctor snapped, then immediately flinched. “I—I mean—yes, yes, laugh at the tools that save lives. Sure.”

He pressed it to my stomach.

The moment it touched me, something buzzed through the metal.

The doctor yelped and jerked back so violently he nearly tripped.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

I blinked. “My kid?”

“YOUR—your kid?! That wasn’t a baby! That was—was—electrical surge?! Magical surge?!”

He turned to the mates, horrified. “Your fetus has WiFi?!”