Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 422
Third Person’s POV
Her voice wavered, breaking into a soft, frightened sob. “Cassian, stop it… your aura is too heavy. You’re scaring me.”
Cassian froze. He looked down at the she–wolf voluntarily clinging to him, and the fire in his eyes instantly melted into a pool of desperate tenderness.
He instinctively tightened his hold, pulling her flush against his chest. This sudden sense of belonging finally quieted his jagged instincts. “Trista…” he choked out, his voice thick with relief. “Let’s go home.”
Trista let out a silent breath of relief. She focused on steadying the “mad beast” as she guided him toward the SUV.
“He’s completely snapped,” she thought.
She had to get him away from the airfield as fast as possible, then find a way to alert Howard that his grandson was a flight risk.
The second she sat in the passenger seat, her hand darted into her bag for her phone.
The screen lit up–Elias was calling. It felt like a blaring siren in the quiet car.
She looked up, only to find Cassian’s possessive gaze already locked onto her. He leaned in, his shadow looming over her. “Is that Elias?”
Trista instinctively shoved the phone behind her back. The sudden spike in her adrenaline released a sharp, bitter scent of almond–like anxiety.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “No.”
Her suspicious reaction made Cassian’s pupils contract into needle–thin slits. The aura he’d just managed to rein in turned razor–sharp.
He held out his hand, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Give me the phone.”
As they sat in a deadlock, Trista caught a flash of something lethal behind his eyes.
She didn’t think–she just reacted. She threw the door open and bolted.
She hit the “accept” button on the call as she ran, her feet pounding against the asphalt toward the airport exit. “Elias!” she screamed into the phone.
She didn’t make it ten yards. A row of high–beams suddenly cut through the dark, blinding her like the glowing eyes of a predator.
Trista’s heart sank. Spread across the airport gates was a line of Ironthorn guards, standing shoulder–to- shoulder like a wall of solid steel.
Their collective Alpha pressure wove together into a suffocating net of scent and power, completely
15
11:19 am
cutting off her escape.
No wonder Cassian had been so calm in the car.
He’d already locked the place down.
Trista stopped, her hope vanishing. Behind her, she heard Cassian’s slow, deliberate footsteps as his shadow swallowed her whole.
Elias’s frantic voice was coming through the phone, but Trista’s hand was shaking too hard to speak.
“Mr. Manwaring…” she whispered into the mic, her voice hollow. “Get some sleep. Goodnight.”
She hung up before he could respond. This was the first time she had seen Cassian this far gone. His eyes, usually so deep and calculating, were shot through with a feral, blood–red madness.
She knew how ruthless he could be; she couldn’t let Elias get dragged into the Ironthorn crosshairs because of her.
Trista turned around, her movements mechanical and numb.
Cassian was stepping out of the SUV. The perfectly tailored business suit didn’t make him look like a gentleman; it made him look like a high–tier predator stalking the night.
He stopped a few paces away. He didn’t grab her, but the sheer weight of his presence made the air feel like lead. Every instinct she had as a wolf told her to submit.
She looked at the guards watching from the shadows and realized she had no play left. She walked back to him.
Cassian held out his hand.
Trista surrendered the phone.
He unlocked the screen, and when he saw the recent call log, the temperature around him plummeted.
The rage he’d been trying to suppress began to leak out, a violent, overbearing pressure that vibrated in the air.
“It was Sayer,” Trista lied, her voice trembling. “He… he must have butt–dialed me playing a game.”
Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a chill.
It was 1:00 AM. A three–year–old wouldn’t believe that excuse, let alone a man like him.
But Cassian didn’t call her out. He just stared at her with his cold eyes.
He wrapped an arm around her waist–gripping her so hard she thought her ribs might snap–and hauled her against him.
He leaned down, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against her car. “You like his son that much? Or are you just that eager to accept his everything?”
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11:19 am
The words were whispered with a terrifying, fake gentleness that made her skin crawl.
She froze, barely daring to breathe.
00:01
Feeling his grip tighten, Trista scrambled to say anything to settle him. “Cassian, I’ve already worn the dress. It’s dirty. I can’t return it now. I’ll just wire him the money tomorrow, and I swear, I’ll never take anything from anyone else again. Just… take me home. Please?”
Cassian’s expression was unreadable. “You mean that?”
Trista nodded frantically.
“No more lies?”
‘None. I promise.”
Cassian leaned in, his nose brushing her temple. “Then give me a chance. Let me make it up to you. Let me fix what’s broken between us. Okay?”
Trista bit her lip and nodded again.
In this moment, if Cassian told her the sky was green, she’d agree.
She had to stay off that helicopter. Because if she got on that bird, she’d never see the sun as a free woman again.
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.