The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 168

I massaged my temples like that would somehow prevent the oncoming aneurysm.

“So let me get this straight,” I muttered. “We’re just—what?—casually buying multimillion-dollar lakefront hideouts like it’s on clearance at Walmart?”

Mason exhaled, rested his elbow on the door, and said it so casually I almost missed it:

“Kira… I make two million a day.”

The entire SUV fell silent.

Even the engine went quiet, like the car itself stopped to say HUH?!

I blinked. “I’m sorry—WHAT?”

Mason shrugged — SHRUGGED — like he just admitted he makes minimum wage in tips.

“Two million. On average. Sometimes more. Depends on the market.”

Shyanne gasped so hard she hiccuped.

Marianne whispered, “We’re sitting next to a literal wolf Jeff Bezos.”

Tyson sputtered. “TWO MILLION—A DAY?! Doing WHAT?! Selling moon dust?!”

Talon whipped around, jaw dropped. “You make HOW MUCH?!”

Douglas groaned. “Oh great. Now he’s going to brag.”

Mason ignored them all and pulled up another house listing. “Money is easy, sweetheart. Wolves need goods. Wolves need services. Wolves need protection. I own the companies that provide all three.”

I just stared.

He continued, annoyingly calm, “Shipping routes. Manufacturing plants. Rare resource extraction. Territory leasing. And I have twenty percent in a global tech trade platform.”

Tyson froze. “…You’re rich rich.”

Mason nodded. “Extremely.”

Toren lifted a hand from the passenger seat, chiming in smoothly, “Money’s not a concern for us either, Starlight.”

I slowly turned to him. “How not a concern?”

Toren barely glanced back. “Pocket change.”

P O C K E T C H A N G E.

I choked. “THE HOUSE COSTS TWO MILLION DOLLARS—”

“Yes,” Toren said. “That’s why I said it. It’s pocket change.”

“How is TWO MILLION pocket change?!”

“Diversified investments,” he answered casually. “I sit on the board of three security corporations. I have controlling shares in two biotech firms. Four of our pack’s patents in scent-masking and perimeter tech sold internationally. And I run private Alpha-level security contracts.”

I stared at him.

“TORREN, ARE YOU ALSO A SECRET BILLIONAIRE?!”

He paused.

“…Technically.”

“TECHNICALLY?!”

A loud snort came from the back.

Talon looked offended on an emotional level. “Hold up. Hold UP. You’re a billionaire and you made me PAY for my last set of tracking darts?!”

Toren lifted a brow. “They were expensive.”

“I HAD TO SELL MY SHOES TO AFFORD THEM!”

“You have thirty pairs.”

“That’s not the POINT!”

Tyson leaned back and threw his hands up. “So what I’m hearing is—my girl is surrounded by sugar wolves and suddenly I’m the financially questionable one?!”

I buried my face in my hands.

“I hate all of you.”

Talon wrapped an arm around me, grinning. “You love us.”

I groaned. “Not right now I don’t.”

Mason laughed softly. “Kira, sweetheart… buying a home is nothing. Survival is everything. And we take care of our own.”

Toren’s voice softened too. “Especially you.”

Tyson nudged me with his shoulder. “Moonshine, we’d buy the entire damn city if it meant keeping you and the pups safe.”

That cracked me.

Just a little.

Just enough for a small, exhausted laugh to escape.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But if we’re buying a multimillion-dollar fortress, I’m picking the curtains. And the kitchen theme. And the paint colors.”

Talon squeezed my knee. “Firefly, you can pick the moon phases in the toilet bowl water if you want.”

I blinked. “…That’s a thing?”

Tyson gasped. “WAIT, CAN WE GET THAT—”

Everyone groaned.

But we kept driving into Seattle — the smell of rain thick in the air, the lights of the city rising ahead of us, and apparently… all of my mates and my biological father casually being stupid rich.

And I?

Still hungry.

Still pregnant.

Still slightly furious.

And still surrounded by idiots I loved.

“Um.” I cleared my throat, hesitant. “Is it… a bad time to stop for food?”

The SUV went dead silent.

Then, like synchronized idiots:

All three of my mates burst into laughter.

Toren pressed a hand over his face.

Tyson wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Talon actually choked on his own spit.

“Oh gods,” Tyson wheezed. “Moonshine, you’re killing me.”

“You just ate an entire buffet thirty minutes ago,” Talon added, grinning.

I glared. “I’m pregnant, shut up.”

Tyson immediately sobered. “You heard the woman. We’re stopping.”

He swerved — with entirely too much enthusiasm — into the very next exit.

A small neon sign appeared:

MILLIE’S DINER — OPEN 24/7.

Perfect.

Quaint.

Probably full of geriatrics and truckers.

Exactly the kind of place no Council enforcer would ever step inside.

Tyson parked and turned in his seat. “Alright. Everyone out. Don’t stampede the pregnant Luna.”

Talon rolled his eyes but was already opening my door to help me down.

Mason stretched in the passenger seat, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll be out in a moment. I need to make some calls.” 

Toren nodded as well, "I need to make a few calls as well. I have to contact the Crescent River Pack and two others. We need to prepare alliances.”

Mason clapped him on the back. “Good. I’ll call a human contact. Someone who can secure that house without suspicion.”

Tyson stepped closer to me. “Moonshine, let's go. I’ll escort you, Talon, and the twins inside.”

Shyanne practically skipped. “FOOD.”

Marianne whispered reverently, “Pancakes. I can smell them from here.”

The bell above the door jingled as we stepped in.

Warm lights.

Shiny red booths.

Old rock music humming from a jukebox in the corner.

It smelled like bacon, maple syrup, and the kind of grease that could revive the dead.

The waitress, a woman in her sixties with purple glasses, eyed Tyson and Talon like they were walking sin.

Then she saw me.“Oh honey, you poor thing. Come on—big booth in the back. I’ll bring you some water to start."

Tyson rested a hand on my lower back as he guided me to the booth. “Easy, Moonshine. There we go.”

We squeezed into a big corner booth — twins on one side, me between Tyson and Talon on the other.

The waitress returned with a smile.

“Alright sweet girl, what’ll you have?”

“I’ll take the country skillet, the pancake trio, a side of bacon, extra hash browns, the fruit bowl, and—”

I flipped the menu. “—the grilled cheese.”

The waitress blinked. “…That’s… a lot.”

I shrugged. “Hungry.”

Tyson nodded proudly. “She’s eating for four.”

The waitress froze, eyes wide. “…Oh lord.”

Talon leaned forward. “She’ll also need two glasses of water and maybe… uh… whatever vitamins you got.”

The woman scribbled like her pen was on fire.

“Alright, honey. Food incoming. You boys want anything?”

Talon ordered a burger.

Tyson wanted chili.

The twins wanted waffles the size of their faces.

Minutes later, plates started arriving like a parade.

I didn’t even wait.

I dove into the skillet.

Marianne whispered, “It’s like watching National Geographic.”

Shyanne nodded. “Predator in its natural habitat.”

I paused long enough to glare. “Quiet, peasants.”

Tyson fed me a bite of pancake off his fork. “Moonshine, open.”

My cheeks heated — but I opened.

He fed himself next.

Smirked.

“See? We can share.”

Talon groaned. “I don’t know whether to be jealous or to gag.”