Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 432

Third Person’s POV

Frushed

The wind was howling on the beach at dawn. Cassian and Trista stood side–by–side, staring out at the endless horizon.

Trista looked completely unaffected, as calm as a bystander watching a movie.

Cassian, however, looked like a walking corpse, his face a sickly grey as he choked back the agony rising in his throat.

‘Let’s go,” Trista reminded him.

When he didn’t move, she didn’t waste another breath. She turned and walked straight toward the helipad.

‘Trista!”

A raw roar erupted behind her. Cassian lunged forward, catching her in a crushing embrace from behind, holding her so tight it felt like he was trying to stop her from vanishing into thin air.

Trista started to pull away, but Cassian buried his face in the crook of her neck. His voice was a broken, pathetic sob. “Just one last time. Please. Let me hold you one last time.”

He greedily inhaled the scent of her hair–the feeling of home he once owned and then personally destroyed.

‘Memorize this scent,” he told himself. “This is the last time.”

“Is it… is it really over for us?” he whispered, though it sounded like he was asking himself.

The morning light was perfect.

Cassian, in his rumpled white shirt, clung to Trista in her white dress.

For a fleeting second, it looked exactly like the moment they exchanged vows at their mating ceremony.

But back then, the sea breeze was warm. Now, there was nothing but a bone–chilling cold.

Trista didn’t look back. She methodically pried his fingers off her arms, one by one.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking away without a backward glance.

Cassian stood frozen, his heavy gaze following her silhouette. Every step she took felt like it was tearing the muscles right off his bones.

The roar of the rotors finally died down.

The midday Los Angeles sun was blinding as the helicopter touched down at the fronthorn private airfield.

The hatch opened. The second Trista stepped off the ramp, she was swarmed by both families, who had clearly been waiting for hours.

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*

Finished

She saw her parents, Attwater, and Isaiah charging toward the front.

Trista turned to Cassian and held out her hand. “Alpha Cassian. My phone.”

Cassian’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at her, but he finally surrendered the device.

As she turned to leave, he instinctively reached for her hand, but a single sentence from her froze him in his tracks.

“Cassian, I’m choosing to trust you this time.”

Their eyes locked. Cassian’s hand hung in mid–air for a moment before dropping powerlessly to his side.

“Stay the hell away from her!”

Attwater’s roar ripped through the air. Without a word of warning, he lunged. A punch packed with an Alpha’s explosive power slammed into the corner of Cassian’s mouth. The sound of tearing skin was sickeningly clear, and droplets of blood sprayed onto the cold hangar floor.

Isaiah was right behind him, a golden glint flickering in his eyes–the sign of a wolf about to lose control.

He swung a fist that whistled through the air.

Cassian’s instincts screamed at him to block, but he stole a glance at Trista. He forcibly suppressed the violence in his blood and took the hit full–on.

“What, you’re just gonna take it? Too scared to fight back?” Isaiah growled, a threatening vibration rattling

in his chest.

Trista stepped in, shielding Isaiah. In an instant, her cold, steady presence acted like a fire extinguisher on the room’s flaring testosterone.

Cassian stared at those eyes–so full of guarded hate. The claws that had been twitching at his fingertips

retracted.

He let his hands fall. The Alpha aura around him was like a guttering flame, gray and lifeless.

Trista pulled Attwater and Isaiah back, creating a massive safety buffer between them and Cassian.

“Dad, Mom, Isaiah, Attwater… I’m fine. Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, her voice low and soothing, though her eyes never stopped scanning the room.

The hangar was crawling with Ironthorn guards. The air was thick with the scent of rival packs.

One wrong move here would ignite a total war–not just a fistfight, but a bloodbath over territory.

Before the family could calm down, Howard stepped forward, his face like thunder.

He was flanked by his detail, his heavy Alpha pressure weighing on everyone’s shoulders. Trista stood her ground, staring him down.

“Howard,” she said, her voice quiet but lethal. “If the news of Alpha Cassian ‘illegally kidnapping his ex-

54 pm M

wife hits the press, I wonder if your stock price in L.A. will survive the week.”

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Finished

Howard’s face turned a bruised purple. A flicker of genuine wariness crossed his sharp, predatory eyes.

And next time, Trista added, not backing down an inch against the most powerful Alpha in the room, ‘don’t use those filthy words to accuse me of ‘seducing him. Does this pack have any dignity left, or are we just done pretending?”

Wilmot stood nearby, his fangs visible as he gnashed his teeth, but he didn’t dare move under Trista’s icy glare.

Ulva pointed a shaking finger at Cassian. “I must have been blind to ever let Trista mate with a piece of trash like you!”

Cassian just stood there, numb. The legendary Alpha pride was shattered. He smelled like a loser–heavy, defeated, and broken.

He walked toward Ulva and Randolph, his head bowed. He didn’t even try to use his pheromones to bolster his dignity.

I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Randolph shoved him back with a snarl. Cassian stumbled, nearly crashing into the guards behind him.

“If you have a shred of a soul left, you’ll get as far away from us as possible!” Randolph barked. “Don’t you ever show your face to us again!”

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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.