The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 188

By the time we pulled into the driveway of the new house, I was convinced of one thing:

My entire body was being held together by pain meds, adrenaline, and whatever feral parental instinct kept me from screaming every time the SUV hit a bump.

But the miracle was this—

the babies stayed asleep the whole ride.

Tyson parked the SUV with the slow, careful precision of someone disarming a nuclear bomb.

“Nobody breathe loud,” he whispered. “If one of them wakes up, I’m blaming all of you.”

Talon nodded solemnly. “Especially Douglas.”

Douglas didn’t bother looking up from the bottles he was shaking. “Touch me and I’ll club your other arm again.”

I cracked the door open, easing out as gently as I could.

And immediately—

Two screaming comets launched at the SUV.

“ARE THEY HERE?! LET US SEE THEM! ARE THEY CUTE?! THEY BETTER BE CUTE!”

Shyanne plastered herself against Tyson’s door like a deranged koala.

Marianne practically dive-tackled Douglas.

Both twins tried to rip open all the SUV doors at once, vibrating with enough excitement to power a small city.

“BABIES!” Shyanne shrieked, bouncing so hard she shook the whole vehicle.

Tyson snarled, clutching his son like a mama bear. “Back up! You come any closer, I’m biting.”

Marianne gasped dramatically at the sight of the baby. “He looks just like you, Tyson. Poor child.”

Talon snorted. “Be nice. The kid already has it rough enough.”

Inside the house, the chaos got worse in the best possible way.

The place was jaw-dropping—glass walls, huge windows spilling sunlight everywhere, marble floors with warm tones, a stone fireplace big enough that Talon joked we could roast a full deer in it. The furniture was sleek and modern, everything clean and untouched.

Or it had been.

The twins destroyed it in thirty seconds.

Baby blankets exploded across the living room like confetti.

Diapers rained from the balcony after Marianne tried to carry too many at once.

Three bassinets were placed in the center of the floor like some kind of ritual altar.

And the nurseries…

Gods.

The nurseries were perfect.

The first room had soft silver walls, painted with constellations that glowed faintly when the lights dimmed. A mobile of little moons and stars spun lazily over the crib. The whole room felt like being wrapped in night sky. This is Thatcher's room.

The second room was forest-themed, deep greens and warm browns, little carved wooden animals along the shelves and vines painted up the corners. It smelled faintly of pine, like a sleepy woodland den. This is Tate's room.

The last room was all warmth—sunrise pinks fading into gold, soft twinkle lights, delicate floral decals across the walls. It looked like morning sunlight had been captured and poured into a nursery. This is Thea's room.

I stared at them all, throat tightening.

“You two…” My voice cracked. “You outdid yourselves.”

Shyanne instantly teared up. “We didn’t know what you wanted… so we did everything.”

Marianne sniffed. “We cried six times.”

Tyson whispered, “Honestly, same.”

For a moment, in the middle of all that love and chaos, I let myself feel safe.

But then something cold crawled down my spine.

A weight.

A presence.

A sense of being watched.

Toren noticed first. His hand brushed mine, protective and tense.

“What is it, starlight?”

Before I could answer, Shyanne froze. Marianne followed her gaze toward the massive front window.

There, standing motionless in the shadows just outside the yard, was a figure.

Tall.

Still.

Wrong.

Just… watching.

Talon’s growl filled the room, low and primal. “Nobody gets that close without tripping the wards.”

Tyson stood so fast the couch flipped behind him. “I swear to god, if something followed us—”

Douglas had already pulled a blade from his boot. “Not in the new house. I just unpacked.”

Mason walked in carrying three bags of groceries, took one look at us all staring at the window, and sighed like a man who desperately wanted a refund on his entire life.

“…oh wonderful. What now?”

The figure shifted.

Close enough for porch light to catch on something pale.

A mask?

A skull?

My stomach dropped.

“Everyone get behind me,” I hissed.

Talon stepped in front of me instantly. “Firefly—no.”

But the thing stepped closer.

And then its voice drifted through the air, distorted and breathless.

“Kira…”

Every hair on my body stood straight up.

All three babies whimpered at the same time.

Tyson carefully passed Thatcher to Shyanne. “If anything comes through that door, scream like hell. Seriously.”

The figure moved again—

And collapsed straight into the bushes.

Just dropped. Like someone unplugged it.

We all stared.

Douglas squinted. “Did… did that creature just faint?”

Talon tilted his head. “Is that a threat?”

Tyson rubbed his face. “I hate this. I hate all of this.”

Mason muttered, “Someone go poke it with a stick and see if it's dead.”

Toren walked forward cautiously, eyes glowing, shoulders tense.

“Wait,” I said suddenly.

Because the scent hit me then.

Fear.

Pain.

Exhaustion.

And underneath it… something familiar.

“It’s not hostile,” I whispered.

Toren’s jaw flexed. “Then what is it?”

I swallowed hard.

“I think… someone came to warn us.”

Tyson groaned. “Great. Because what we really needed today was more problems.”

Talon cracked his knuckles. “Let’s haul it inside.”

So in the span of an hour:

We moved into a mansion.

Unloaded newborn triplets.

Watched the twins redecorate like rabid interior designers.

And now had a fainted stranger in the bushes.

Welcome to parenthood, I guess.

Toren didn’t wait for permission.

He and Tyson marched straight into the yard like two pissed-off wolves sent to retrieve a raccoon that had broken into the trash bins. The skull-faced creature lay half-sprawled over the hedge, arms bent at angles that made my own limbs ache in sympathy.

Tyson grabbed it by one elbow.

Toren grabbed the other.

They both lifted.

It dangled between them like a dead deer.

Or a very confused Halloween decoration.

Shyanne let out a horrified squeak. “OH MY GOD—Toren—Tyson—you’re getting goo on my walkway!”

“It’s not goo,” Tyson grunted, adjusting his grip.

“It IS goo,” Marianne snapped. “I can SEE the goo.”

The creature’s head lolled back, skull mask glinting in the light. Its ribs shifted under too-thin skin like something trapped was trying to break free.

Tyson muttered, “If this thing wakes up and starts growling, I’m drop-kicking it.”

Toren replied, “If it wakes up and starts growling, it is drop-kicking you.”

They hauled it into the house.

Dragged it across the nice clean floors.

And deposited the limp body right in the middle of the living room.

The pristine, beautifully decorated, brand-new living room.

The twins screamed the second the first droplet of dark, syrupy blood hit the pale rug.

“That’s a FIVE-THOUSAND-DOLLAR CARPET!” Shyanne wailed.

Tyson wiped his hands on his jeans like he’d just touched a fish. “Be dramatic later, Barbie Twins. Someone hand me rope.”

Douglas tossed over a coil without looking up from the babies.

Within seconds, Toren and Tyson had the creature tied to the support beam like they’d been training for this all their lives.