Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 477

Third Person’s POV

Finished

Wynn scrambled back behind Alaina, terrified, but she couldn’t stop herself from muttering, “Fred told me everything! He said you were both standing at the altar when Trista suddenly looked like she remembered something terrible. She pushed you and just bolted!”

Alaina stared at her son for a long time, her expression freezing over. “Cassian, tell me the truth. Are you regretting this?”

Cassian lowered his gaze, giving a slow, resolute shake of his head.

In the silence, the aura surrounding him felt profoundly lonely.

Wilmot issued a final ultimatum in a tone that allowed no room for debate. “You’re the one who asked for this. It’s too late for second thoughts now. Go to the Silverlight territory immediately and set a new date for the ritual. Even if you have to tie her up, you are bringing that mating bond back to this family!”

“Don’t think just because Trista loves you that you can burn through her patience,” Alaina added. “Go apologize now, before her wolf starts genuinely rejecting you.”

Cassian stood up and gave a small nod, offering no rebuttal.

Having been given a second chance at life, he was going to cling to this opportunity, however fractured it seemed.

He would scrub every stain from his past, protect her like he protected his territory, and give her a love so pure it held no trace of the old rot.

As he reached the front door, Cassian paused and looked back at his parents and sister.

Besides Trista, he was going to treasure his own life this time, too.

In the Los Angeles summer, the twilight always lingers, refusing to fade.

When Cassian drove into the Silverlight territory, it was just after 8:00 PM. The final glow of the West Coast sunset was being swallowed by the cold neon of the city.

Attwater was sitting out front to cool off, dressed in a loose tank top and shorts, his buzz–cut hair prickly to the touch.

Seeing Cassian, his eyes lit up with the instinctive hero–worship of a younger wolf. “Cassian!” he called out brightly.

Cassian’s gaze drifted to Attwater’s ankle. He knelt down naturally, his long fingers pressing with precision against the boy’s tendons to test the tension.

Attwater shifted uncomfortably and let out a chuckle, insisting it didn’t hurt.

“Your explosive power in the legs is lacking. If you force yourself through overtraining, you’ll end permanent ligament damage,” Cassian warned as he stood back up.

up

with

10:09 pm

Finished

His tone was calm, yet carried the undeniable authority of a High Alpha. “You can’t rush growth.”

As he spoke, Randolph and Ulva ushered him into the living room.

Cassian scanned the area, and when he didn’t see the woman he was looking for, his feet seemed pulled by a magnetic force toward Trista’s bedroom door.

“Trista, open up. Someone’s here for you,” Attwater chimed in from behind.

The door cracked open. The moment Trista saw that handsome face–the face that still made her heart skip a beat out of sheer trauma–her pupils constricted. She tried to duck back into the room and shut the door.

“Trista.”

Cassian moved fast, his palm steady as he braced it against the doorframe. The scent of cold cedar immediately invaded her private space.

Seeing the atmosphere drop to sub–zero, Ulva stepped forward with a worried look.

“Sit down and talk this out, you two. Trista, don’t be so stubborn. The Moon Goddess doesn’t want to see pointless bickering between mates.”

Cassian sensed the wall of resistance Trista had built–it was almost a physical weight.

He took a half–step back, giving her room to breathe. “It’s early. The night air in L.A. is nice. Walk with me?”

Trista hesitated for a moment before giving a cold, stiff nod.

Since she couldn’t outrun him, she needed to find a quiet place to lay the truth out.

They walked out of the residential area in a suffocating silence.

The streetlights stretched their shadows thin and jagged across the asphalt.

In the shadows of a street corner, Trista finally stopped.

She stepped up onto the curb, trying to use the slight height advantage to offset the crushing presence of a man who stood well over 6’2“.

Today, Cassian hadn’t styled his hair with his usual corporate precision; a few strands fell naturally over his forehead, giving his aggressive features a deceptive air of softness.

But Trista knew better than anyone what kind of iron–fisted ruthlessness lived beneath that skin.

She was scrutinizing him, while Cassian was looking at her with a raw, greedy intensity.

The Trista of five years ago–just graduated, in a simple cinched dress with her hair in a ponytail—was a vibrant, living temptation to a prisoner whose soul had already rotted once.

Standing on the street below the curb, Cassian tilted his head back slightly, his deep eyes searching hers.

10:09 pm

“We were supposed to bond at the altar today. Why did you run?”

The cautious, almost fragile tone in his voice made Trista’s skin crawl.

C

Finished

She frowned. If she started screaming about how much of a scumbag he was in the future, he’d probably think she’d lost her mind.

“I thought it over, Cassian. We aren’t a match,” Trista said, her expression flickering with genuine disgust. “The three–generation Alpha arrogance of the Ironthorns? I’d be suffocated to death by that elitism sooner or later.”

“As long as I’m here, I promise no one will touch you,” Cassian blurted out, his voice laced with a paranoid protectiveness.

Trista let out a silent, bitter laugh. The person she was most afraid of was him.

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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.