The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 27

The cakes were gone, the plates cleared, but the heat Toren left in me lingered like fire beneath my skin. I pressed my trembling hands against the table, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to remember Elder Thora’s words: Eat. Breathe. Let them see you.

I had done that. Now it was time to find her.

The terrace doors whispered closed behind me as I stepped into the lobby. Voices echoed faintly from down the corridor—the hall of conference rooms. The carpet muffled my footsteps, but my pulse pounded loud enough I swore it could be heard.

I slowed when I reached the first door left ajar. Candlelight spilled through the gap, along with voices sharp and certain.

I froze when I heard my name.

“Kira,” Elder Thora’s voice carried, calm but edged with fury. “That girl has been beaten, starved, silenced, used as a scapegoat by her family. Her Alpha and his Betas turned their faces away and let it happen.”

My chest constricted. My name echoed on the lips of those who ruled our kind.

Another voice, deep and measured, rumbled back. “And Alpha Lucas? He allowed this?”

“Allowed it?” Thora’s tone sharpened. “He profited from it. He takes bribes for membership, trades loyalty for coin. That pack is hollow, a shell. It cannot survive as it stands.”

A ripple of murmurs moved through the room, heavy with agreement.

“We cannot simply dissolve a pack overnight,” a female elder said, her voice clear and resonant. “The bonds run too deep. It would breed chaos.”

“No,” Thora agreed. “But we can divide them, carefully. Wolves loyal to each other can be reassigned to stronger, healthier packs. Families will grieve, but they will survive. And those warriors—many are wasted under Lucas’s neglect. They would serve better under Alphas who would value them.”

Another male elder leaned forward, his tone clipped. “The Whitepine Pack has been short on warriors since their border skirmishes. The Birchmoon Pack would welcome females, especially trained ones. Even the Frostfangs could benefit from fresh blood. It would strengthen them all.”

My heart hammered, my throat dry. They were naming futures, breaking my pack like pieces on a board.

“But what of Lucas?” one elder pressed. “He will not yield. He will not answer to another Alpha, let alone accept the stripping of his pack.”

“He has no say,” Thora answered coldly. “He has failed in his duty to lead. He has failed his wolves. He has failed Kira most of all.”

A silence stretched, thick and dangerous. Then another voice, older and rough with age, spoke: “Then he must be held accountable. Lucas will be summoned before the Council after the Gathering. Before the Elders, before the wolves, before the Council’s own guards. His actions will be laid bare, and he will answer for them.”

“And if he refuses?”

“Then exile,” the elder said flatly. “He will be stripped of his title and forbidden from leading a pack ever again. A wolf without an Alpha, without followers. Let him live with the weight of his disgrace.”

My breath stuttered, panic and exhilaration colliding in my chest. Alpha Lucas—brought down? The man who had towered over my life with power and cruelty, reduced to nothing?

“And the Betas?” someone asked, voice sharp as a knife.

“Maverick will face judgment alongside his Alpha,” Thora said, steel in her tone. “His hands are bloodied by complicity. Darin… we will speak of separately. His role is not as clear.”

The air shifted again, more cautious now.

“But there is one more matter,” Thora continued, her voice lowering, almost reluctant. “Alpha Toren.”

A rustle, a stir of unease.

“He has taken an interest in the girl,” Thora said, deliberate. “In Kira.”

“That man is dangerous,” one elder said immediately, his voice cutting like ice.

“Dangerous,” Thora agreed softly, “but his interest cannot be ignored. Toren has refused countless potential mates. He is known for his brutality, his refusal of women, his isolation. And yet… his eyes lingered on her tonight. I am both delighted—and nervous.”

“Delighted?” a female elder challenged.

“Yes,” Thora said firmly. “Because it means her suffering was not for nothing. That perhaps fate has carved her for greatness. Nervous, because Toren is not a wolf who bends. If he chooses her, he will stop at nothing to claim her. And she is not yet ready for what that means.”

Murmurs swelled again, threads of fear and curiosity tangling together.

“Then we must watch,” an elder concluded. “We will watch the girl. We will watch Toren. If she is to stand at the center of this storm, she must not face it alone.”

“She won’t,” Thora said, her voice cutting through the room like silver. “Not while I draw breath.”

The silence that followed was thunderous.

I stumbled back from the door, my breath shallow, my pulse roaring in my ears. My family, my Alpha, my entire pack—broken apart. My name whispered in shadows. And Toren—his presence looming like fire and storm—spoken of as if he already had a claim on me.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to cry out.

I wasn’t invisible anymore.

I was the center of it all.

My knees felt weak, my chest too tight.

I wasn’t just Kira anymore.

I was becoming something else. Something dangerous. Something that even the strongest wolves whispered about behind closed doors.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I hovered outside the door, their words echoing inside me like thunder. I could have run. I could have hidden and pretended I’d never heard. But my knuckles lifted before I could stop them, tapping lightly against the wood.

The voices stilled. A beat of silence passed before Elder Thora’s voice, calm and commanding, called, “Enter.”

I pushed the door open slowly, my gown whispering against the floor as I stepped inside. The room was bright with lamplight, the long table polished to a mirror shine. Four figures sat with Thora—three men, each carved with age and authority, and one woman with eyes sharp as obsidian.

Thora rose smoothly, her silver gown flowing like liquid moonlight. “This,” she said, her voice carrying both pride and warning, “is Kira of Lucas’s pack.” Her gaze flicked to me, softening for only a heartbeat. “Kira, these are my fellow Elders. Elder Selene.” She gestured to the dark-eyed woman whose beauty was severe, her aura thick with power. “Elder Malric.” A broad man with iron-gray hair who studied me like a puzzle piece that might fit. “Elder Cael.” A thin, hawk-nosed elder whose fingers steepled in thought. “And Elder Jorn.” The last, heavyset, his amber eyes narrowing as if weighing my soul.

Four sets of ancient eyes turned to me at once.

The air shifted—heavy, suffocating, alive with something I couldn’t name. My lungs seized, my pulse stumbling as if my wolf itself sensed the weight of their attention.

And then Elder Selene spoke, her voice like a blade cloaked in velvet.

“So…” she murmured, eyes narrowing as though she could strip me bare with a glance, “this is the girl who has caught Alpha Toren’s eye.”