The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 38

The elevator hummed softly as it carried me downward, each passing floor stealing another breath from my lungs. My palms were damp, fingers twisting in the fabric of my lavender dress. Elder Thora’s words from the night before echoed in my head—*stand tall, breathe, let them see you.*

Alpha Toren had been called away not ten minutes into breakfast. His hand had lingered on mine, warm and grounding, as he ordered me to eat and promised he’d see me in the Gathering chamber. I had wanted to protest, to beg him not to leave me alone, but his voice had brooked no argument: *Don’t be late. Eat. Stand strong.*

The elevator dinged, breaking me from the memory.

The doors slid open.

And I walked straight into a storm.

“Kira!” My mother’s voice sliced through the lobby like a whip, sharp and shrill. She stood there with Lyra, both of them blocking the path forward, eyes glittering with venom.

Before I could even take a step, they were on me.

“You little liar,” Lyra hissed, her perfect curls bouncing as she stalked forward. “How dare you embarrass us like this? Whispering sob stories to Elder Thora, making her pity you, making her—”

“She doesn’t pity me,” I cut in quietly, but the words were lost beneath my mother’s rising shriek.

“You’ve always been a leech,” Mother spat, her face twisted with disgust. “Sucking away from us, from Lyra. And now this? Telling them lies so they’ll turn against Alpha Lucas? Against your own family? Shameful girl!”

Heat rose to my cheeks, my hands trembling, but I bit down on my tongue. Answering them meant feeding the fire.

“You think you’re clever,” Lyra sneered, stepping so close I could smell the honeyed perfume on her skin. “But everyone can see you for what you are. A parasite. A desperate, hungry little nothing. You’ll never be Luna. You’ll never be anyone.”

The words cracked like stones against my ribs.

A few wolves passing through the lobby slowed, their eyes flicking curiously toward us. My stomach churned. My mother noticed too, and instead of stopping, she raised her voice, her accusations echoing through the grand hall.

“She’s always been like this,” she announced, venom dripping from every syllable. “Lying, scheming, trying to steal what isn’t hers. Don’t be fooled—this girl will say anything for attention!”

I forced myself to inhale. To remember the way Elder Thora moved—her spine straight, her chin lifted, her every step deliberate. She didn’t beg for space. She claimed it.

So I did the only thing I could: I ignored them.

My feet carried me forward, slow but steady. I walked past them as though their voices were nothing but static. Lyra gasped, outraged, and my mother’s face flushed crimson.

“How dare you ignore me!” she screamed. “Look at me when I’m speaking, you ungrateful brat!”

“Coward!” Lyra shouted after me. “That’s all you’ll ever be!”

Gasps rippled across the lobby. Wolves had begun to gather now, forming quiet pockets, their eyes sharp and watchful. Some muttered to each other, some pointed, but all stepped aside as I walked through. I nodded faintly at those who met my eyes, refusing to let my legs buckle.

My mother’s fury rose higher with every step I took. “You’ll regret this, Kira! Do you hear me? You’ll regret the day you turned your back on your own blood!”

I didn’t look back.

Ahead, standing poised at the entrance to the conference chamber, was Elder Selene. Her black gown gleamed like oil under the chandeliers, her obsidian eyes trained on me. For a heartbeat, I faltered. She looked at me as though I had surprised her—and something else flickered there, sharp and unreadable. Approval? Doubt? I couldn’t tell.

But the instant my mother and Lyra caught sight of her, their insults died on their tongues. Their voices dropped to a hiss, their spines snapping straighter as though Selene’s presence alone had bound them.

I stopped before her, bowed low, and rose with as much grace as I could muster. “Elder Selene.”

Her eyes lingered on me a moment longer, then she inclined her head once, permission granted.

The great doors opened.

The room was vast, lit with golden chandeliers that scattered light across polished tables arranged in a massive circle. The air was thick with dominance, wolves filling the chamber, their scents a heavy cocktail of power and pride.

My gaze snagged immediately on the table’s far side. Alpha Lucas sat there, his shoulders squared, his face carved from stone. And across from him, Alpha Toren—calm, still, but his eyes locked on Lucas like a predator sizing up prey.

An attendant gestured me toward Lucas’s side. “Stand behind your Alpha,” he instructed.

My heart thundered. Elder Thora’s voice whispered in my head: *Neutral, until the time comes.*

I lifted my hand slowly. “No.” My voice carried clearer than I expected, ringing through the hush. “For now… I am neutral.”

The words slammed into the room like a wave.

Gasps broke. Murmurs rose. Every eye seemed to turn to me.

My mother’s sharp cry split the silence. “Neutral?” she spat from behind Lucas. “You dare say that in front of the Alphas? You dare—”

“She’s a traitor!” Lyra shrieked, her voice shrill and desperate. “How dare she disgrace us like this? She belongs to Alpha Lucas, and she thinks she can stand there and say—say she’s neutral?!”

“You filthy little liar,” Mother screamed, her face twisted. “Do you see what she’s doing? Playing them all, acting like she’s special, acting like she matters! She’s nothing! She’s nothing!”

Their fury lashed at me from across the chamber, but I refused to flinch. My chin lifted higher, my back straighter, my breath steady.

Then I felt it—the quiet weight of Elder Thora’s hand settling lightly on my shoulder. I glanced back. Her silver eyes were calm, proud, steady.

“You are exactly where you should be,” she whispered, just for me.

Heat swelled in my chest, and for the first time in my life, my mother’s words didn’t pierce. Lyra’s shrieks didn’t wound.

The other elders exchanged glances, their faces unreadable, before one of the men rose. Elder Malric, his deep voice filling the chamber with authority.

“The Gathering will come to order,” he announced. “And it will begin with the proper documents brought before us.”

The murmurs dimmed. Chairs scraped. The meeting began.

But I felt it—that moment hung in the air like smoke. The moment I chose not to bow to Lucas, not to cling to my mother’s shadow, but to stand on my own.

Neutral.