The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 167

“Tyson,” Toren said calmly, “Seattle is more populated. Better for masking. Bigger city, bigger crowds.”

“Portland is shielded,” Tyson argued. “It’s considered neutral ground. Less Council influence. She’ll be safer—”

Marianne’s voice carried down the hallway.

“What about San Francisco?”

Talon blinked at her. “Absolutely not.”

“Too far,” Tyson said at the same time.

“And too many hippies,” Toren muttered.

I rubbed my face. “Can we please not fight about which human city has the best odds of not getting me kidnapped? I’m pregnant, exhausted, and the babies are apparently growing at the speed of light. Pick a place before I throw up again.”

All three alphas snapped their mouths shut.

Douglas snorted in the background. “Gods, she’s terrifying.”

Mason nodded. “She gets that from me.”

I glared at them both.

Tyson finally exhaled. “Okay. Fine. Seattle. It’s close enough that we don’t burn the pack’s fuel reserves trying to get out of state.”

Talon added, “And large enough to hide Firefly’s aura, even if that necklace weakens.”

Toren stepped toward me, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “Starlight… we’re going to make this work. We’ll keep you safe.”

“Moonshine isn’t leaving our sight either,” Tyson added.

Talon nodded. “And no one touches my Firefly.”

He paused, smirked. “Still testing the name out.”

I rolled my eyes, but warmth filled my chest anyway.

The hatch banged open again and the twins came barreling inside, arms full of bags, backpacks, a duffel the size of a small cow, and something that looked suspiciously like a waffle iron.

“We’re packed!” Shyanne announced proudly.

“For the apocalypse,” Marianne added.

Toren sighed. “Good. Load everything into the SUV.”

Tyson grabbed two bags. Talon grabbed four. Mason grabbed half the kitchen. Douglas grabbed the heaviest pack just to prove something.

I stood there in the center of all the movement, bags, and urgency…

Feeling my heart pound in both terror and determination.

We were really doing this.

Leaving the dead zone.

Hiding in human territory.

Running from the Council.

Running toward a future that didn’t exist yet.

Toren stepped beside me again, voice low.

“We move in ten minutes.”

Tyson squeezed my waist, whispering, “Stay close.”

Talon kissed my temple. “Not losing you again, Firefly.”

And as they moved around me, gathering the last of the supplies, weapons, food, and medical kits…

I realized something important:

This wasn’t just survival anymore.

This was war.

The SUV hummed along the highway, headlights slicing through the dense Washington fog. Tyson was driving, Toren riding shotgun, Talon behind them. I was tucked in the middle row with Mason on my right and the twins squeezed in the back with Douglas, who looked like he regretted every life choice that led him here.

For the first time… Mason actually felt like a father.

He held his phone up between us, scrolling through listings on some human real estate app. “Alright,” he muttered, “we need something big enough for the triplets, the twins, and whoever is posted as perimeter guards. Preferably detached. Preferably quiet. Preferably fortified.”

Toren grunted from the front seat. “Preferably built like a bunker.”

Mason smirked. “Funny you say that. Because look at this one.”

He tapped a listing, turning the screen to me.

House Option 1 — The Lakeview Fortress

The screen displayed a massive three-story house, tucked into the trees along Lake Union.

8 bedrooms

6 bathrooms

Two kitchens

A finished basement

A fenced acre with a reinforced steel gate

A panic room

A surveillance system with 12 internal cameras and 8 motion sensors

Boat dock access (???)

Toren immediately leaned between the seats, eyes narrowing. “Zoom in on the back entrance.”

Mason did.

Toren hummed approvingly. “Triple-locking system. Hidden latch. Good sight lines. Easy defense points.”

Shyanne whistled from the back. “Damn. You could fit three packs in there.”

Marianne added, “Or at least all our emotional baggage.”

Douglas snorted.

I pointed at the listing price. “…Mason. That’s two million dollars.”

He shrugged. “It’s Seattle.”

True.

“But look at this one,” Mason said, swiping to the next property.

House Option 2 — The Raven Street Estate

This house was older, darker stone, with ivy crawling up the sides. It had a gothic vibe… elegant, a little foreboding, very “if Toren were a house.”

7 bedrooms

5.5 bathrooms

Chef’s kitchen

Full basement converted into a gym/training room

Historic district — fewer neighbors

Tall iron fence with a coded security gate

Roof access

A greenhouse (what???)

Talon perked up behind me. “Greenhouse? We can grow herbs. Potion plants. That could be useful.”

Tyson muttered, “The boxing area in the basement is calling my name.”

Toren didn’t comment.

He was too busy analyzing every picture like he was planning a raid.

“Interior cameras?” Toren asked.

“No,” Mason said. “But exterior has six. And the walls are thick brick.”

Toren hummed again. “Brick is good. Harder to break. Harder to burn.”

Shyanne nudged my shoulder. “It looks kinda haunted, though.”

Marianne nodded. “Haunted is fine. Haunted means it’s cheap.”

Douglas finally spoke. “Haunted means we aren’t living there.”

I chewed my lip. “What about the neighborhoods?”

Mason swiped through maps. “Lakeview is more populated. More crowds — easier to hide. Raven Street is quieter but less foot traffic.”

Talon leaned forward slightly. “Starlight needs both privacy and cover. Crowds are safer.”

Tyson nodded. “Lakeview is our better option.”

Toren didn’t answer.

Not immediately.

But when he did, it was decisive.

“Lakeview.”

Mason tapped the screen. “Lakeview it is.”

The twins cheered.

Douglas groaned because the twins cheered.

I leaned back against my seat, whispering, “Lakeview… we’re really doing this.”

Mason softened just a little. “We are. And you’re safe, Firef—”

He cut himself off.

Talon smirked proudly.

Tyson snorted.

Toren pretended he didn’t hear it.

Mason recovered awkwardly. “…Kira. You’re safe.”

The SUV continued down the road toward Seattle, and I stared at the pictures of the Lakeview Fortress, then at the price again.

Two. Million. Dollars.

TWO.

MILLION.

I turned slowly toward Mason like the number was written in blood on my forehead.

“Mason… can we actually afford a two-million-dollar house?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Don’t worry about it.”

At the exact same moment, Toren said:

“Don’t worry about it.”

I froze.

Tyson froze.

The twins froze.

Douglas muttered, “Oh, that’s not good.”

My eye twitched so hard my left vision blurred.

“I’m sorry—WHAT?”

Toren didn’t even turn around. He just lifted a calm, annoyingly authoritative hand from the passenger seat.

“Starlight,” he said soothingly, “your safety is our top priority. Price is irrelevant.”

Mason nodded like he was the CEO of Annoying Men, Inc. “Exactly. This is nothing. It’s handled.”

“Handled?” I burst out. “HANDLED? It’s TWO MILLION DOLLARS, MASON!"