The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 185

A wave of pain tore through me—sharp, burning, tearing.

I screamed.

Talon held me upright.

Toren held my face, whispering steady words.

Tyson squeezed my hand, crying actual tears.

“Oh shit,” he whispered. “We’re having kids. We’re— WE’RE HAVING KIDS.”

“We’ll worry about that after they’re OUT,” Toren snapped.

The doctor leaned in, expression tightening.

“Oh. Oh—yes. This is happening fast.”

“Mmh,” I groaned through clenched teeth. “Define fast.”

She met my eyes.

“Honey… the first one is crowning.”

Talon paled.

Toren froze.

Tyson fainted for two seconds and Talon slapped him awake.

And me?

I screamed again because holy shit that hurt.

But the doctor only nodded.

“Okay, boys!” she hollered. “Let’s bring your babies into the world!”

And chaos exploded all over again.

Pain.

Holy gods, the pain.

It wasn’t like the little drops in my stomach from before.

This was split-me-in-half pain.

Crush-my-spine pain.

Why-did-I-ever-have-sex-with-these-men pain.

I screamed, arching off the blankets as another contraction slammed through me.

“Good! Good!” the doctor yelled like this was a sport. “He’s right there—Kira, PUSH!”

I pushed.

I screamed.

I pushed again.

And then—

A wet, slippery pressure slid free.

A wail pierced the penthouse.

“A boy!” the doctor announced triumphantly.

I sagged backward, shaking, sweat dripping off my forehead.

The doctor didn’t hesitate; she lifted the crying baby into Tyson’s trembling hands. He looked like someone had handed him the moon.

“O-oh gods,” Tyson croaked, staring at the tiny, squirming bundle. “He’s—he’s ours. He’s—holy shit—he’s ours.”

“Cut the cord,” the doctor ordered.

Tyson nearly dropped the scissors twice. “I—I got it. I got it—okay—okay—shit—okay—done.”

The cord separated.

The doctor snapped her fingers. “Switch with Talon. NOW.”

Tyson moved out of the way, letting Talon sit down next to me, taking my hand while Toren still sat behind me, giving me support still.

I tried to breathe.

Tried to recover.

But another contraction punched through me so hard I screamed and grabbed Talon’s shirt with both hands.

“Oh gods—no—no—another—another one—”

Talon’s hand slid into mine, warm and strong.

“Kira,” he breathed, voice low, “look at me.”

But tears blurred everything.

“I can’t—I can’t do it again—I can’t—”

“You can.”

His voice hardened—not cruel, but fierce.

Like a vow.

Another contraction hit and I cried out, shaking uncontrollably.

Talon cupped my jaw gently, guiding my face to his.

“Firefly,” he whispered, voice trembling, “you survived things no one should survive. You walked through death. You fought fate and won. You can survive this.”

“I’m scared,” I whimpered.

“I know.” He kissed my forehead. “But you’re not alone. We’re right here.”

The doctor shouted again:

“KIRA—PUSH!”

I screamed and pushed.

My head spun.

My vision flashed white.

Every muscle in my body felt like it was splitting.

Talon held my hand so tight his knuckles went white.

Tyson stood behind him, bouncing our son gently, whispering encouragements through broken breaths.

And then—

A new wail.

Smaller.

Softer.

Urgent.

The doctor caught the baby and laughed breathlessly.

“A boy! Another boy!”

Talon’s entire face broke open—shock, love, disbelief hitting him all at once.

“Mine?” he whispered.

“Yes,” the doctor said, smiling as she handed him the squirming, messy little bundle. “Your son.”

Talon took the baby like he was made of gold.

His whole body trembled as he cradled the tiny boy to his chest.

“Oh gods…” he breathed. “Hi… hi, little guy…”

I tried to smile.

I tried to breathe.

But my body was shaking uncontrollably.

The doctor snapped her fingers at Toren. “YOU! Alpha! Sit next to her—now.”

Toren jolted like he’d been electrocuted.

“Y-Yeah—right—okay—move,” he said, scrambling.

He grabbed couch pillows and cushions—anything soft—and wedged them behind me, supporting my back and shoulders so I was upright.

He cupped my cheek.

“You’re doing so damn good, starlight.”

I barely had time to respond.

Because pain—REAL pain—punched through my stomach so hard the world went white.

I screamed, grabbing Toren’s hand with both of mine, squeezing so hard he hissed.

“TOR—TOR—something’s wrong—gods—gods—make it stop—”

He didn’t even flinch at the pain of my grip.

He grabbed my face firmly, forcing my eyes to stay open.

“I’m here,” he whispered urgently. “Look at me, starlight. Don’t look away. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Another contraction tore through me, worse than any before—sharp, deep, almost paralyzing.

I cried—actually cried—into Toren’s shoulder.

“Toren—Toren—I can’t—I can’t—”

His hand slid into my hair, grounding me, his forehead pressed to mine.

“You can. You’ve already brought two sons into the world. One more. One more, starlight. I’m not leaving your side.”

Behind me:

Tyson rocked our firstborn gently, whispering soothing words.

Talon held our second son against his chest, tears still streaking down his cheeks.

Douglas stood stiffly in the corner, shaking with adrenaline.

The doctor braced herself between my knees, gloves already bloody, voice sharp and focused.

“All right, Kira,” she said. “Listen to me carefully. This last one is breech. I have to reposition him manually. It’s going to hurt like hell, but I need you to stay with me. Stay conscious. Stay focused.”

I sobbed.

Toren wiped my tears with shaking fingers.

“We’re right here,” he whispered. “All of us. Just hold on.”

The doctor pressed her hands to my stomach.

And the next wave of agony hit—

—so violent I thought my soul would leave my body.

I screamed, clutching Toren’s hand like I was drowning.

And the doctor said:

“He’s coming fast. Kira—on the next contraction, you’re going to push harder than you ever have.”

My voice trembled.

“Toren—I’m scared—”

He pressed his lips to mine—firm, steady, grounding.

“We’ll get him out, starlight. We’ll get all of them out. You’re not doing this alone.”

Then the doctor counted down:

“Three—two—one—PUSH!”

And I screamed again.

And the world became pain.

Only pain.

And the desperate hope that my last baby—the one fighting hardest—would survive.

The pain tore through me like lightning.

I screamed, nails digging into Toren’s arm, while the doctor shouted:

“Almost there, Kira—KEEP PUSHING!”

I pushed.

Gods, I pushed until I thought I would die.

Something shifted—deep, low, final—

And then—

A cry.

Not strong like the boys.

Not loud.

A soft, trembling little wail that shattered me.

The doctor let out a breath I didn’t know she’d been holding.

“It’s—” she gasped, eyes widening in awe, “—a girl.”

My heart stopped.

A girl.