The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 183

Dr. Falk’s glow dimmed as she pulled her hands back from my stomach—her expression sharp, urgent, and absolutely not reassuring.

“We don’t have time,” she said, breath quickening. “We need to get her somewhere warm and somewhere safe. The babies aren’t just awakening—”

She swallowed.

“They’re coming today.”

Silence.

Dead, choking silence.

Then—

“WHAT?”

Talon. Tyson. Toren. The twins. Douglas. Even Knox.

All at once.

The doctor lifted both hands like she could physically calm all the testosterone vibrating in the air. “Not today like later. I mean TODAY today. As in an hour. Maybe less.”

Tyson went sheet-white.

Talon nearly dropped me.

Toren looked like someone had slammed a brick into his forehead.

Meanwhile I sat there, blinking at all of them, thinking:

*Well. Fuck.*

Mason reacted first—as always.

“Alright,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Toren—you’re with me.”

“No,” Toren growled, instantly on alert, eyes frantic. “I’m with Kira.”

“This is about Kira,” Mason said sharply. “Unless you want her delivering in the middle of a dirt road with wolves sniffing around, we need to split. Listen.”

The doctor nodded vigorously. “She needs a bed, warmth, clean sheets, water, and space to breathe. NOW.”

Mason pointed at Knox with authority that made even the forest seem to stand straighter.

“Knox. Take your pack. Escort Kira, Talon, Tyson, Toren, Douglas, and the doctor to the nearest hotel with private suites. Nothing cheaper than a four-star. I don’t want fleas, mold, or shitty carpet under her feet.”

Knox nodded instantly. “Done.”

“Wait,” I croaked. “Hotel?”

Douglas snorted. “Unless you want to give birth on the hood of the SUV, yes.”

Talon flinched. “No. Nope. She deserves better than that. Keep going.”

Mason continued barking orders like he was born for this.

“Toren—send the twins to the house. NOW.”

Toren snapped out of his panic long enough to whirl on the twins and shove a fistful of cards at them—debit, credit, probably a few black cards that could buy a small country.

“Go,” Toren ordered, voice thick. “Set up the nursery. Everything. Cribs, clothes, bottles, rocking chairs. I don’t care what brand—just buy it all. You have until tonight.”

Marianne blinked. “Toren… do you want a theme?”

“YES,” he barked. “The theme is BABIES. GO.”

The twins disappeared into the treeline with panic, but excitment on their faces. I can only imagine how beautiful or horrible the nursey was going to look.

Mason turned to Douglas next.

“Douglas. Go buy a car.”

Douglas raised a brow. “A car?”

“Cars,” Mason corrected. “Plural. Something safe. Something fast. Something big enough for Kira, three newborns, the twins, Talon, Tyson, Toren, and you.”

I stared. “That’s… a bus.”

“Then buy a bus,” Mason deadpanned. “I trust your judgment.”

Douglas grimaced. “That’s your first mistake.”

“Just GO,” Mason barked.

Douglas left muttering something about minivans and war crimes.

Mason finally turned back to us—me and my mates.

He put a hand on the SUV like it was a dying pet.

“I’ll stay behind,” he said. “Redirect any wolves who get a wild hair up their ass and decide they want to play Council Member. This whole area is going to be crawling with idiots looking for power.”

An ache hit me—not physical this time, emotional.

“Be careful,” I whispered.

Mason softened—not much, but enough.

“I always am, kid.”

Talon lifted me into his arms again like I weighed nothing, but this time his hold was shaking slightly.

Tyson hovered, touching my knee, his voice trembling. “Moonshine… you good?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But I guess I’m as good as someone who’s about to have three magical babies in an hour can be.”

Toren exhaled shakily. “Starlight… I swear, this was supposed to take months.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my stomach as another ripple of pressure rolled through me. “Tell the babies that.”

Knox raised two fingers to the forest, signaling his pack.

Dozens of wolves emerged—silent, tense, forming a protective corridor around us.

“This way,” Knox said. “We’ll get you to the hotel.”

As Talon carried me toward the treeline, Tyson and Toren flanking us like lethal shadows, I couldn’t help whispering:

“Well… ready or not…”

Another drop hit my stomach—

Harder this time.

Talon almost dropped me again.

Tyson swore.

Toren nearly shifted from panic.

I groaned. “Gods help me—these kids are dramatic already.”

We ran.

Or—everyone else ran.

Talon carried me in his arms like I was made of glass while Tyson and Toren flanked us in tight formation, Knox’s wolves pouring through the trees around us like shadows with claws. Every crunch of leaves underfoot, every snap of a twig sounded too loud, too close, too dangerous.

We burst out of the treeline—and straight into civilization.

Neon lights.

Traffic noise.

People shouting.

Car horns.

My head spun.

One minute we were deep in the forest.

The next, we were standing at the edge of a massive city—skyscrapers piercing the sky like steel teeth.

And at the foot of it?

A towering 5-star hotel—gold-trimmed, glass-fronted, revolving doors spinning nonstop.

The Crestview Regency.

Holy shit.

Knox strode ahead, clearing a path for us. “This way,” he said, lifting a hand for us to follow.

Talon tightened his arms around me, breathing hard. “Almost there, firefly.”

We hurried across the sidewalk. People walked past us in expensive coats, rolling luggage, talking into phones, completely unaware that a half-feral pregnant werewolf was about to explode with triplets on their pavement.

One woman, dressed like she bathed in money, stared openly at Talon carrying me.

“Oh my,” she gasped. “Is she… drunk?”

Talon didn’t even look at her. “Sure,” he muttered. “Let’s go with that.”

Tyson snorted under his breath. “At least she didn’t ask if you were kidnapping her.”

“She would’ve,” Toren muttered, jaw tight. “Give her ten more seconds.”

Knox approached the front doors and the doormen immediately straightened—because a man that tall with that much authority tended to make humans get very polite very fast.

“Evening, Mr. Knox,” one of the doormen said immediately, bowing. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

Knox only nodded. “I need a presidential suite. Top floor. Private elevator. Immediate check-in.”

“Of course, sir.”

Talon set me gently on my feet—but hovered so close he might as well have been holding me still.

My stomach rolled again.

He felt it.

Tyson saw it.

Toren flinched from ten feet away.

Another contraction.

Shit.