The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 97

The bell above the diner door chimed softly as we all filed out, the faint chatter of humans barely covering the simmering tension radiating off my mates. Tyson had his arm slung casually over the back of the booth just minutes before, but I could see the way his muscles were coiled now—every step controlled, deliberate, the calm before something broke.

The others moved ahead toward the cars, and I felt the weight of exhaustion settle over me. My stomach still twisted from that disgusting waiter, and the air inside had grown thick with the scent of food and hostility. “I’ll be right back,” I murmured, gesturing toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

Tyson’s head snapped toward me immediately, eyes sharp. “Not alone.”

I blinked. “It’s a bathroom, Tyson. I think I’ll be okay.”

He shook his head once, firm. “No arguments, Moon. Take the twins. They’ll watch the door.”

Shyanne and Marianne both gave me sympathetic smiles that said *Don’t fight him on this one.*

I sighed, holding up my hands in surrender. “Fine. Bathroom field trip it is.”

As soon as we slipped into the hallway, the noise of the diner faded into a dull hum. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering once as the three of us pushed open the door to the ladies’ room. Inside, the air was cool and faintly floral, the scent of lavender cleaning spray barely covering the mix of nerves and curiosity that lingered between us.

I turned on the faucet, letting the water run while I looked at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my pulse still racing. “Was that… normal?” I asked quietly.

Marianne leaned against the sink beside me, brushing her blonde hair from her shoulder. “You mean the waiter?”

I nodded.

Shyanne scoffed. “Unfortunately? Yeah. Humans can’t help it. They’re drawn to us—like moths to a flame. The men want what they can’t handle, and the women… well, they want what they shouldn’t touch.”

Marianne nodded in agreement, her expression grim but understanding. “It’s instinct. They can feel we’re not like them. The confidence, the way we move—it’s intoxicating to them. Most don’t even realize why they’re so drawn in. Some say it’s like… a trance.”

I frowned. “That’s awful.”

Shyanne gave a humorless laugh. “It is. But it’s also why we avoid human towns unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I sighed, turning the water off and shaking my hands dry. “So basically, we just have to exist, and that’s enough to send them into chaos.”

Marianne smiled faintly. “Pretty much.”

As we pushed open the door to leave, a sudden thud echoed from somewhere outside—heavy, loud, and final. It wasn’t the kind of sound you could mistake. Something—or someone—had hit the wall.

We all froze.

“What was that?” Shyanne whispered.

“Probably nothing,” Marianne said quickly, but her voice trembled slightly.

I tilted my head, my wolf stirring restlessly beneath my skin. The sound had come from the back of the building, near the service exit.

Curiosity coiled tight in my chest, stronger than fear. I hesitated only a second before moving toward the small red door marked No Exit.

“Kira, wait,” Shyanne hissed.

But I was already pushing it open.

The night air hit me like a slap—cool, sharp, and heavy with the scent of blood. Metallic and raw. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes adjusted to the dim alley light.

Toren stood there.

His back was to me at first, shoulders heaving slightly, his shirt torn near the collar. Blood glistened down his forearm, dripping from the tips of his claws—extended and curved, still slick with red.

And at his feet…

The waiter.

He lay crumpled on the pavement, eyes open and empty, neck twisted at a wrong angle. There was a smear of blood against the brick wall where he must’ve hit it—hard.

Marianne gasped softly behind me, her hand flying to her mouth. Shyanne pressed herself back against the wall, pale and trembling.

Toren turned at the sound. His golden eyes caught the faint light, glowing faintly, predator bright. There was no regret in them. Only something rawer. Older.

“Kira,” he said, his voice low, roughened by the wolf that still lingered close beneath his skin.

I should have been afraid. I should’ve run back inside, screamed for help, something. But I didn’t. Because I could feel it—through the bond, that hum of power and instinct twined with guilt and a possessive edge that wasn’t meant for me, but for what he’d done for me.

He hadn’t killed the human because he wanted to. He’d done it because of me.

For me.

The thought hit hard, leaving a strange ache in my chest.

He watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to recoil. Instead, I stepped forward. Slowly, deliberately.

The twins stayed where they were, pressed against the wall, silent witnesses to something sacred and terrible.

I lifted my hand, palm open.

For a long moment, Toren didn’t move. His gaze flicked from my face to my hand, then down to the blood dripping from his claws. He looked like a man caught between two selves—the Alpha and the beast.

Then, wordlessly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded rag, and wiped his hands clean. The motion was mechanical, almost ritualistic. When he finished, he dropped the bloodied cloth beside the dead human and stepped over the body.

His claws retracted with a soft click.

When he took my hand, his touch was warm—steady. He turned it palm-up and pressed a soft kiss against the center, right where the pulse beat hardest.

Neither of us spoke.

The bond between us hummed quietly, alive with shared understanding and silent promises.

Toren’s hand lingered against mine as we turned back toward the parking lot. The twins followed close behind, their silence heavy with the weight of what they’d seen.

As we stepped into the soft glow of the streetlights, I glanced up at Toren. There was still blood beneath his nails.

But his eyes—the gold in them—had softened again.

Whatever he’d done, whatever darkness he carried, it was part of him. And part of me, now too.

We didn’t look back.

No one spoke a word as we walked toward the waiting cars.

But the scent of blood followed us long after we’d left the diner’s glow behind.