Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 177
Third Person’s POV
Finisher
Not long after Trista drove off with Isaiah, Samantha stepped out from the shadows of a pillar near the entrance.
She had been standing just far enough away to see everything clearly, but close enough to avoid drawing attention.
The moment she saw Cassian’s car pull up, Samantha smoothed her expression and hurried toward him.
The window slid down, and a wave of cold, restrained energy drifted from the cabin.
Cassian looked at her, his first sentence cutting straight to the point, “Where is Trista?”
His tone was level, but the underlying pressure was a taut wire ready to snap.
Samantha scanned their surroundings to ensure no cameras or passersby were within earshot. She lowered her voice. “Cassian, Trista just left with another man.”
She paused, letting the weight of the words settle, then added, “I have two things I need to show you. Can I get in so we can talk?”
Cassian gave a short nod.
Samantha slid into the passenger seat.
As soon as she was settled, she started her performance. “I’m so sorry, Cassian. You were just trying to buy a toy for Algernon, and the world tried to twist it into something ugly. If tonight weren’t so urgent, I never would have interrupted you or asked you to come out.”
She kept her voice soft, making every syllable sound like she was acting solely in his best interest.
She then pulled out an imaging crystal and displayed two scenes.
The first was a shot of Trista standing with Isaiah. They weren’t being intimate, but it was enough of a frame to let anyone’s imagination run wild.
The second was a screenshot of an old communication record–the message where Trista had told Samantha to bring her son to the press conference and claim her place.
Cassian watched the images without expression, though his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened.
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He didn’t explode. His silence was a far more dangerous kind of judgment.
“Why are you showing me this?” he asked.
Finished
Samantha put on a look of wide–eyed innocence, her tone laced with faux panic. “Cassian, Trista tried to force me to go to that press conference. She wanted me to expose you and Algernon to the world. I could never do that to you.”
She spoke with conviction, emphasizing her “loyalty.”
Then, she twisted the knife. “She even told me to my face that since the two of you can’t officially terminate the mating bond, you should just lead separate lives. I thought she was just being spiteful at the time.”
Samantha watched him out of the corner of her
eye.
Cassian’s gaze remained fixed on the crystal, his eyes so dark they were unreadable.
His Alpha’s characteristic restraint made him impossible to read, so she doubled down.
“I didn’t expect,” she whispered, as if the words themselves were a scandal, “that I’d run into her tonight… and see her in the elevator with that man… kissing.”
She let the last word hang in the air, ambiguous enough to be a question, but firm enough to be an accusation.
“Cassian, you’re so indulgent with her. You keep giving her chances, protecting her in public… I just don’t think she deserves you.”
It was a classic play–disguising an accusation as sympathy.
Cassian’s face darkened instantly.
It wasn’t a burst of rage; it was a lethal, localized chill.
Yet, his voice was certain, as if he were sealing a verdict. “You must have seen wrong.”
He knew Trista’s character too well.
When she loved someone, she held herself tight. Even when pushed to the brink of a breakdown, she was more likely to swallow her chaos than project it.
More importantly, the mental bond between mates wouldn’t allow a betrayal like that to happen without leaving a trace.
If she had truly crossed that line, he would have felt it.
2/3
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Finished
It was nearly 3:30 AM by the time Trista finally made it home.
The long night had caught up to her; exhaustion and a heavy daze weighed down her steps.
She pulled out her keys, unlocked the front door, and flicked on the foyer light–only to find Cassian standing there in dark pajamas.
He looked like he had been waiting for hours. His breathing was steady, but his posture was a silent blockade.
The shock of seeing him there snapped Trista into full alertness; her sleepiness vanished instantly.
She leaned down to pick up a plush toy that had fallen on the floor, said nothing, and tried to walk past him.
Cassian grabbed her arm, his eyes falling on the mountain of colorful stuffed animals she was cradling.
“Where the hell have you been until this hour?” he demanded, his tone sharp.
Trista glanced up at him but didn’t answer. She twisted her body, shaking his hand off her arm, and continued into the living room.
His face turned a terrifying shade of dark at the dismissal.
As they reached the center of the room, he raised his voice.
“Trista, I’m talking to you.”
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Ruby Walker
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