The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 85

“I’m fine,” I croaked, my voice small but firm.

All three of them went quiet, turning toward me again.

Toren’s hold tightened, his hand slipping behind my head protectively. “Don’t you ever say that like it means nothing,” he murmured against my skin. “You are not fine. Not after that.”

“I am now,” I whispered. “I promise.”

Something inside him eased, but only slightly. His breath fanned across my cheek, steadying, grounding.

Talon crouched beside us, his eyes scanning my face. “You… feel different,” he said slowly. “Like your energy’s shifted.”

Tyson nodded, still pacing, but his gaze softened. “Yeah. She smells different too. More… charged.”

Toren didn’t answer. His hand slid to the back of my neck, thumb tracing small circles into my skin like he needed the reassurance that I was still warm, still breathing, still here.

He tilted my chin up gently, forcing my eyes to meet his. “What happened?”

I hesitated, the memory of that endless dark pressing at the back of my mind—the silver thread, his voice, the bond snapping into place like lightning through my soul.

“I saw you,” I said softly. “In the dark. I saw your light.”

Toren’s breath hitched. “My light?”

I nodded, tears burning behind my eyes. “It was… you. The bond. It was real. I felt it connect. I felt everything.”

Something flickered behind his eyes—relief, awe, something deeper that I couldn’t name.

Talon sat back slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “So it’s done,” he murmured. “One down… two to go.”

Tyson huffed under his breath. “Not now, Talon.”

Talon muttered something about “just saying,” but even he didn’t sound annoyed. They were all too shaken. Too quiet.

The silence stretched again, thick with things unsaid.

And then Toren shifted, still holding me close, his lips brushing against my temple once more. The tremor in his hands hadn’t stopped, but his voice, when it came, was steady.

“Starlight,” he said quietly, like he was testing the word.

“Yeah?” My voice came out barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look at me—really look at me. His gaze burned gold again, bright and raw, stripped of the stoic control he always carried. His jaw flexed once, and then he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“I love you.”

The words hit harder than any command, any roar, any promise he’d ever made.

And before I could say a word back—before I could even process what I’d just heard—his lips found mine.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was everything.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.

The words lingered in the air like magic — fragile, dangerous, and utterly real.

I saw the flicker of uncertainty in Toren’s eyes, the way his jaw tensed as if he’d said too much, but I didn’t let him pull away.

My fingers brushed the side of his face, tracing the scar near his jawline.

“I love you too,” I whispered, the words trembling but true.

The bond between us hummed — a golden thread thrumming beneath my skin, connecting every beat of my heart to his. It pulsed like light. Warm. Steady. Whole.

But even as that warmth spread through me, I felt something else.

The air shifted behind us.

Talon and Tyson stood a few feet away — silent, unmoving, watching.

Their expressions were unreadable at first, but the bond tugged at me, and I felt it then.

Not jealousy. Not anger.

Pain.

A quiet, hollow ache radiated from both of them. The kind that came from being on the outside of something they couldn’t touch.

They could see what Toren and I shared, but they couldn’t feel it. Not yet.

The bond hadn’t reached them — not fully — and that absence was like a wound between us all.

Talon’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing restlessly at his sides. He tried to look away, but the flicker of longing in his eyes gave him away.

Tyson’s arms were crossed, his face blank, but through the faint bond thread that tied us all together, I could sense the storm beneath his calm — frustration, guilt, and something sharper he was trying to bury.

It hurt to feel their pain.

To know I’d caused it just by existing between them.

I swallowed hard and reached out a hand, wanting to bridge the space, to say something — anything — that might ease it.

But Toren’s arm around my waist tightened.

“Don’t,” he murmured softly, his voice quiet but sure. “Not now.”

He stood then, rising with me still in his arms like I weighed nothing. His warmth radiated through me, grounding and familiar, and I could hear the steadiness of his heartbeat against my ear.

“We’re going upstairs,” he said finally, his Alpha tone slipping back into command. He glanced at his brothers, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “You two can argue or pace or plan all you want. Right now, she needs to rest.”

Talon didn’t argue — he just nodded once, tension still rolling off him in silent waves. Tyson muttered something low, too quiet for me to catch, before turning away and running a hand through his hair.

Toren’s hold on me shifted as he bent slightly, hooking one arm beneath my knees, the other around my shoulders. “You’re safe now, Starlight,” he whispered against my temple, the words meant for me alone.

I leaned into him, too tired to fight the comfort. The exhaustion from the dream, the bond, the emotions — all of it was catching up to me.

As he carried me out of the observation room, I caught one last glimpse of Talon and Tyson. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their gazes fixed on me — not with resentment, but with something heavier.

They wanted what we had.

They wanted to feel what Toren and I did.

And gods, I wanted that too.

But it wasn’t that easy.

The bonds couldn’t be forced. They had to choose me. And I had to choose them — one at a time.

As the elevator doors slid shut and the soft hum filled the silence, Toren pressed another kiss to my forehead.

“Rest,” he murmured again. “We’ll figure the rest out later.”