Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 143
Third Person’s POV
Finished
Cassian didn’t deny it. He gave a slight, measured nod. “We’re all adults here; we should know how to weigh the pros and cons. My mother has always adored Trista–she treats her like her own daughter. Between her affection and yours, I truly believe Trista is better off by my side than locked behind iron bars in a prison
cell.”
He dialed back the intensity of his aura just a fraction, but his next words hit harder. “Ironthorn moves fast. If you want to save Trista, I need an answer. Soon.”
With that, Cassian didn’t linger. He turned and walked out of the ward.
The second the door clicked shut, the air seemed to vanish from the room.
Once he was gone, Attwater was vibrating with a mix of panic and rage, his chest heaving. “Mom, Dad, there has to be another way to get Trista out of there!”
Randolph let out a long, heavy sigh, the exhaustion etched deep into his face. “We’ve tried everything we could think of. Why do you think your mother and I went to him in the first place?”
A long, suffocating silence followed, broken only by the steady, clinical beeping of the monitors.
“I just called Klein,” Randolph said, his voice turning raspy. “He’s dropped Trista’s case. I don’t think there’s a single person in LA brave enough to go toe–to–toe with the Ironthorn pack right now.”
He looked at Ulva, then back at the grim reality staring them in the face! “If Trista actually goes to prison, her life is over.”
Ulva bit her lip so hard it bled, fighting back a sob. “But Cassian has that woman… he has a child. Sending Trista back to that… it’s just another kind of torture.”
Attwater slammed a fist into his palm. “Mom, Dad, the human police have to see she’s innocent! We don’t have to bow down to him!”
At the word “innocent,” Randolph and Ulva traded a look of pure bitterness.
They had lived through the glory days of the Silverlight pack, and they had seen how fast “allies” turned their backs the second the money ran out.
They knew the truth. “Justice” was usually just a polite word for whoever held the most leverage.
Randolph suppressed his emotions, his voice trembling. “Blame me. Blame me for being a useless father. But if the choice is between Trista losing her freedom, rotting in a cell, and ruining her entire life… I’d rather she go back to Ironthorn.”
He choked up, his eyes reddening. “At least there, she has the career she built. She has her friends. She has us close enough to see her.”
Ulva finally broke. She buried her face in the covers and sobbed, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
1 AM, in Ironthorn’s villa in Blue Bay, the lights were still on.
Finished
Cassian stared at the name “Randolph” flashing on his screen. He hesitated for a heartbeat before hitting
answer.
On the other end, the older male’s voice was hoarse and broken–the sound of a man who had been stripped of his pride, leaving only a father’s final plea.
The call dragged on, and when it finally ended, the villa fell into a dead silence. Cassian’s expression was colder than the night outside.
By 5 AM, he was in the shower. The ice–cold water hit his shoulders, washing away the remnants of sleep and liquor. The wolf beneath his skin slowly calmed down, forced back into place by sheer logic.
At 8 AM sharp, a black luxury sedan pulled up to the gates of the detention center.
The winter wind swept along the building’s exterior, giving the iron bars and the high–mounted cameras a grim, metallic chill.
Before long, Humphrey ran over to the car, his voice low. “Alpha Cassian, Luna Trista is out.”
Cassian froze, his lighter halfway to a cigarette.
The flame flickered in the wind before he flicked it shut.
He looked up and saw the heavy iron door swing open.
Trista stepped out of the shadows.
Two days and a night in custody had left her looking like she was covered in a layer of dust.
Her coat wasn’t buttoned properly, the lines of her collarbone were painfully sharp, and her wrists bore the faint red marks of wolf–grade restraints. Her breathing was so shallow it was almost silent.
She stood at the edge of the sunlight, squinting against the sudden glare, looking as if she hadn’t quite escaped the suffocating atmosphere of the cell.
Cassian tossed the cigarette into a nearby bin and walked straight toward her.
The moment Trista saw him, she instinctively tried to sidestep him, flinching away by pure reflex.
The mangled mating bond gave a sharp tug in the air, and the wolf in her chest let out a low snarl—not out of a desire for closeness, but out of raw, primal rejection.
Cassian reached out and clamped a hand around her wrist.
Trista swung her other hand wildly, fueled by the humiliation and rage of the last forty–eight hours, intending to land a hard slap.
He’d anticipated it; his other hand caught her mid–swing, gripping her wrist with a precision that killed any chance of a counter–attack.
In the gray zone between shadow and light, they locked eyes. Their scents clashed like two razor–sharp
blades.
15:15 Fri, Jan 2
Finished
“Your parents asked me to come get you,” Cassian said, his voice low but perfectly clear. “Don’t go getting any other ideas.”
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Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.