Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 469
Third Person’s POV
Finished
The house–the “home” where Cassian and Trista had shared their last days together–was unnervingly
still.
The only light in the pitch–black villa came from a single, lonely lamp in the dressing room.
Cassian sent his final message. Then, the body that had been held upright by sheer, numb willpower finally gave out. Like a building losing its foundation, he slumped slowly onto the cold floor.
He lay in a pool of blood–some of it dark and dried, some of it fresh and warm from his latest hemorrhage.
Nearby, the pill bottle he’d once treated like a lifeline lay on its side, the tablets scattered like the shattered crystal shards, reflecting the dim light.
In that moment, he finally stopped pretending. He stopped fighting.
His right hand was clenched in a death grip, his palm mangled by the crystal fragments. Dark blood. seeped through his fingers, rhythmically dripping onto the floor.
Cassian lay there, expressionless, his vacant eyes fixed on the ceiling while tears streamed uncontrollably into the rug.
His breathing was so shallow it didn’t even move his chest, yet his mind was a high–definition highlight reel of Trista.
He remembered her as a little girl–chubby–cheeked, always running after him.
When she couldn’t keep up, she’d plop down on the ground and throw a tantrum, refusing to move until he turned back and picked her up.
As she got older, she was still his shadow, always calling out “Cassian!” with that sweet, playful voice.
If he ignored her on purpose, she’d find a thousand ways to cause trouble until he finally surrendered and humored her.
Later, the look in her eyes changed to a shy, teenage crush.
She was incredibly clingy; she’d get bold enough to tease him or sneak a kiss, and she’d shamelessly tell other girls that she was Cassian’s future mate.
He would never forget the look of utter disbelief in her eyes the day he proposed.
The Silverlight pack was bankrupt then, and she had cried, asking him over and over if he really, truly wanted to mate with her.
After they mated, she tucked away her temper and became soft and devoted.
She always smiled with such total contentment, swearing she loved him more than herself and promising
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she’d never leave, no matter what.
But in the end, she left. She walked away with total resolve, never once looking back.
He was the one who had crushed her love. He had erased her smile and murdered every hope she had.
Now, Trista was independent and radiant, surrounded by people who loved her–people who were far more qualified to be by her side than he ever was. There was no longer a place for him in her world.
Cassian slowly closed his eyes, letting the tears flow.
He used to believe that pure love didn’t exist, but what Trista had given him was the warmest, most sincere heart in the world.
He finally understood what love was, what happiness felt like–but it was too late.
The delayed regret was like a jagged blade, carving his wolf soul into pieces.
“Trista…” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “If there’s a next life… I’ll come to you clean. I won’t… I won’t stain myself next time.”
“I’m sorry… I love you.”
At that moment, the long, agonizing pain finally vanished.
His body, which had been rigid and hollowed out for so long, began to relax.
As his life force drained away, the weak wolf in his subconscious let out a final, mournful whimper before falling into total silence.
His open palm was a blurred mess of crystal shards and blood, fused together so tightly they were one.
Late Night.
Fred was driving Wynn back to the estate, the carefully chosen birthday cake sitting in the backseat.
Wynn was staring down at her phone. For some reason, ever since they left the gala, her heart had been racing with a frantic, abnormal rhythm.
The second the car crossed the Ironthorn boundary, Wynn’s face went white. Her entire body jerked as if she’d been hit by a massive electric shock.
“Ugh…
She clutched her chest, a low, pained werewolf whimper escaping her throat.
It felt like a pillar deep inside her soul had collapsed without warning.
Immediately, a bone–chilling sensation of death–something surging through their shared bloodline- spread through her veins.
“Wynn? What’s wrong?” Fred slammed on the brakes.
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“Cassian… it’s Cassian!” Wynn’s voice was shaking violently, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “My wolf is crying… he’s screaming for help… no, he’s disappearing!”
Fred’s face transformed. He didn’t ask another question; he floored the gas and tore toward the villa.
They threw open the front doors, and the living room lights flicked on.
Wynn didn’t even think to put the cake down. She followed the suffocating scent of blood and the rapidly fading Alpha aura, stumbling into the dressing room.
“Cassian!”
The second she saw the silhouette slumped in a pool of blood, clutching the shattered crystal, Wynn’s legs gave out. She collapsed on the spot.
She could feel it–the sheer void that comes when a bloodline connection is completely severed.
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The Next Day, 8:30 AM.
Trista had just reached her office when Xander pushed the door open.
His expression was so rigid, so somber, that Trista stopped what she was doing. “What happened?”
Xander took several deep breaths, his tone as heavy as a pitch–black abyss. “Last night, at 11:59 PM… Alpha Cassian’s wolf succumbed to its injuries. He was pronounced dead shortly after… Resuscitation was unsuccessful.”
The expression on Trista’s face slowly turned to stone.
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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.