Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 172
Third Person’s POV
The knots in Trista’s nerves finally loosened a fraction.
Finished
She reached into her bag and pulled out a voice recorder with crisp, decisive movements. “You’ve always been a man of your word. I’m recording this as proof–from this second on, no one from Ironthorn is allowed to interfere with my career or use my family to threaten me. In exchange, I will cooperate unconditionally for the sake of the pack’s interests.”
Howard glanced at the recorder in her hand. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of approval flashed in his eyes.
She knew how to turn words into evidence; she knew how to use the system to trap the system.
Once the deal was struck, Trista and Cassian headed back to the villa.
The drive was silent.
The air in the car was a heavy cocktail of blood and medicinal salve. The wounds on Cassian’s back were still seeping, but he didn’t utter a word about it.
Trista didn’t ask. Silence was the cold, hard line that kept them on opposite sides.
The moment they stepped through the door, Cassian grabbed her arm.
His palm was burning hot, but his grip was restrained–like he was fighting to keep his from detonating.
rage
“If you wanted a job or anything else, you could have just come to me,” he demanded. “There was no need to pull these stunts.”
Trista’s face remained a blank slate. Her voice was as calm as ice water. “I don’t trust you.”
From now on, whatever she wanted, she would take for herself using her own methods.
She was done handing her leverage over to anyone else.
This was the survival instinct Cassian had forced her to develop.
They locked eyes.
Cassian’s face darkened until it looked like a storm cloud ready to break.
“If you don’t trust me,” he hissed, enunciating every word, “then why the hell did you come
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back?”
Finished
Trista let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her tone dripping with irony. “Weren’t you the one who backed me into a corner until I had no choice?”
They stared each other down in the heavy silence as the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Finally, Cassian let go of her arm.
“Trista, don’t forget–we have an agreement,” he said. “Whether you like it or not, you’re back. And since you’re back, you follow the rules.”
Trista remained eerily steady. “My family and my career are my final lines in the sand.”
She looked at him, her voice clear and lucid. “If I can’t even protect those, then there’s no point in me staying alive.”
She looked him dead in the eye and asked softly, “Your threats, your tactics, your agreements… do
you really think they mean a damn thing to a werewolf who’s already prepared to die?”
Cassian saw it then–the total, absolute resolve in her eyes.
It wasn’t a temporary emotional breakdown; it was the look of a wolf who had been pushed to the edge of a cliff and had already mapped out the fall.
He grabbed her shoulders, his grip tightening as if to confirm she was still standing there.
After a long pause, he whispered, “Trista, do you really have to think so lowly of me?”
Trista shook her head. “I don’t think you’re ‘lowly. You just… don’t love me.”
She paused before twisting the knife. “If the she–wolf you had married was Samantha, I bet you’d be a hell of a mate.”
The second those words landed, Cassian snapped.
He yanked her closer, his voice a low, dangerous warning. “I am talking about us. Leave everyone else out of it.”
Trista shoved his hands off, her temper finally igniting.
“Why can’t I mention her?”
“Isn’t she the reality standing between us?”
“Aren’t we here right now because she exists?”
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Finished
“Didn’t you force me into this version of myself just to keep her safe?”
“I’m the victim here, and I can look your mistress in the eye. Why are you, the one who did this, so afraid to admit it?”
“Just say it, Cassian! You love her. You love your kid. Is it really that hard?”
“You dragged me back here to be a piece of furniture–a shield to hide the mess you made, isn’t that right?”
By the end, her voice was bordering on a scream.
The room went deathly quiet.
Both were fighting to suppress their instincts, forcing their,logic to override the wild surge their wolves.
“I’m taking a shower,” Cassian said eventually, turning toward the bathroom.
Trista stayed where she was. She didn’t stop him.
of
Scrubbing off the scent and dealing with the body after returning to the territory was a habit Cassian had formed over years.
Not even a back full of whip welts would change that.
She went to the master bathroom to rinse off, then grabbed the first–aid kit and set it by the bed.
A while later, Cassian pushed the door open.
He was shirtless, his back a map of tension and deep red welts.
The whip wounds weren’t just skin–deep; they carried the residual aura from Howard, leaving the edges of the cuts a bruised, unnatural crimson.
Trista pulled back the duvet. Her voice was clipped. “Sit.”
Cassian sat on the edge of the bed without a word.
She took a warm, damp cloth and laid it over the wounds. She didn’t rub; she just let the dried blood soften on its own.
Only when the fabric no longer snagged on his skin did she use the silver tweezers and hemostatic leaves to pack the two deepest gashes.
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The moment the leaves touched the raw flesh, the wounds winced and tightened.
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Finished.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.