The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 184

Toren grabbed my face and kissed me.

Hard.

Desperate.

All the fear and panic he’d been barely holding together poured into that kiss.

“Wait out here with Talon and Tyson,” he whispered against my lips, breath trembling. “I’ll get us checked in. Don’t move. Don’t walk. Don’t breathe too hard.”

“I’m pregnant, not fragile,” I muttered.

“Fragile,” he said, stepping back, “is me right now.”

Tyson put a hand on my lower back. “We’ll watch her.”

Talon crossed his arms and glared at Toren. “Hurry.”

Toren disappeared into the lobby—shoulders squared, anger radiating off him in waves.

I turned and stared up at the hotel. It was… massive.

A glittering chandelier dangled inside the entryway. Marble floors gleamed like they were polished with liquid diamonds. Guests in suits and gowns poured in and out, rolling suitcases behind them, laughing loudly at nothing important.

A bellhop nearly walked into a pillar when he saw Tyson.

“Oh—uh—sir, d-do you need assistance?”

Tyson raised a brow. “Do I look like I need help?”

The bellhop swallowed. “No… no sir. You look… very capable.”

Talon nudged me gently. “Try to relax.”

“I’m about to push out three magical gremlins.”

“Okay, relax less,” he corrected. “But breathe.”

A sharp ripple of pain shot across my abdomen.

I hissed. “Holy shit—okay—breathing isn’t helping.”

Talon immediately reached out. “Firefly—knock my teeth out if you need to, but don’t hold your breath.”

Some man walking his tiny dog stopped and stared at us like we were filming a movie.

“Is she going into labor?” he asked too loudly.

Tyson snapped, “Mind your business, Carl.”

“His name is Peter,” the man squeaked.

“Well… mind your business anyway!”

I grabbed Talon’s arm. “Remind me again why the goddess blessed me with triplets?”

Talon kissed my forehead. “Because you can handle it.”

“I don’t feel like I can handle it.”

He smiled gently. “Then that’s why you have us.”

The hotel doors swept open and Toren strode out, holding a keycard like it was a weapon.

“Penthouse secured,” he announced. “Private elevator. No cameras. Knox bribed the night manager. Let’s MOVE.”

Another contraction slammed into me.

I gasped—

Talon caught me—

Tyson swore—

Toren nearly tripped—

…and every human within ten feet stared.

“Okay,” Toren growled. “Let’s get her upstairs before she has these babies in the damn lobby.”

Talon scooped me up again, bridal-style, and carried me toward the doors.

Knox barked orders to his wolves, who formed a perimeter like we were the President.

Humans stepped aside as if sensing something primal.

And I clutched Talon tighter as we stepped into the hotel’s glowing marble lobby, thinking one thing:

*These babies are not waiting.*

The private elevator shot upward so fast my stomach almost stayed on the lobby floor. Toren held down the “close” button like it might dare disobey him, Tyson stood in front as if he could fight gravity itself, and Talon kept an arm hooked under my knees, keeping me close to his chest.

By the time the doors slid open, all three looked like they were ready to tear the penthouse apart just to make sure it was safe.

But the second we stepped inside—

I forgot how to breathe.

“Holy… shit,” I whispered.

The penthouse was glorious.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the entire living space, showing all of Seattle glowing beneath us like a galaxy spilled across the earth. The city lights glittered off polished marble floors. Plush white couches framed a sunken living area. A massive crystal chandelier hung from exposed beams. A fireplace flickered along the wall, modern and sleek, and the air smelled faintly of cedar and champagne.

And right in the middle of that luxury—

Blankets had been spread out across the marble in a neat circle.

“Oh, perfect timing,” the female doctor said briskly as she stepped forward. Her brunette hair was tied back, face pale but focused. “Put her down. Now.”

Talon lowered me carefully, as if afraid I’d break.

The minute my back touched the blankets—

A sharp, deep, agonizing drop in my stomach hit me like lightning.

I cried out, clutching at Talon’s shirt, nails digging in.

Pain rolled through me hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.

Then—

Warmth.

Liquid.

A gush spreading under me.

“Oh gods,” I gasped. “I think—I think—”

Tyson stared at the spreading puddle in horror. “That’s water. That’s— that’s water. That’s—”

“Oh, fuck,” Toren breathed.

“Oh, shit,” Talon said at the exact same time.

The doctor clapped her hands sharply.

“ALRIGHT!” she barked. “All three of you—STOP PANICKING.”

They froze mid-freak-out like overgrown guard dogs being told to sit.

She pointed at Tyson.

“You—stop pacing, you’re making her dizzy.”

She pointed at Toren.

“You—stop trying to fight the air.”

Then Talon.

“And YOU—stop glaring at her uterus! It’s doing what it’s supposed to do!”

Talon blinked. “I wasn’t glaring—”

“You were,” the doctor snapped. “Let her breathe.”

I groaned as another contraction ripped through me, bending me forward.

“Oh gods—fuck—okay—no—nope—can’t—someone put me down. I’m going to float out of my own body.”

Talon caught me against his chest, voice breaking. “Firefly… we’ve got you. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

“I AM breathing! I don’t LIKE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

The doctor knelt in front of me, completely unfazed by the screaming, panicking, alpha chaos happening around her.

“Alright, Kira,” she said calmly. “Your water just broke. You’re fully in active labor."

Tyson made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Toren crouched beside me, touching my cheek gently. “Starlight, look at me. You’re safe. We’re right here.”

Talon kissed my forehead, voice shaking. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I stared at all three of them.

Then another contraction hit.

Harder.

Deeper.

I screamed, grabbing onto whoever I touched first—which ended up being Tyson’s shirt—and yanked him so hard he almost face-planted onto the blankets.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Good grip strength. That’s promising.”

Tyson sputtered, “Promising for what—my funeral?!”

The doctor completely ignored him and snapped her fingers at all three alphas again.

“Positions! Toren—at her head. Talon—support her back. Tyson—stop panicking and hold her hand.”

Tyson held out his hand.

Another contraction hit.

I crushed it.

He shrieked. “OH MY GODS—KIRA—PLEASE—MY BONES—”

“You’ll live,” the doctor said without looking up.

“I WON’T,” Tyson insisted. “MY HAND—”

“You’ll be fine,” Toren grumbled. “She hasn’t broken you yet.”