Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 484
Third Person’s POV
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Thinking back to the last time Fred lied and said Cassian had drunk himself into a coma, was a lot sharper this time.
Trista
She planted her foot against the door of his sports car, hands on her hips, and arched an eyebrow. “Last time he was ‘drunk.‘ This time, are you gonna tell me he’s already in the incinerator?”
Fred rubbed his nose awkwardly. “You’ve really got your guard up lately, don’t you?”
“That’s what happens when people team up to play me,” Trista said, giving him a cold look.
Since the cat was out of the bag, Fred decided to just lay his cards on the table.
He leaned against the car frame and studied her. “I’m just confused. You spent years chasing this guy. You finally have one of L.A.’s top Alphas ready to sign the papers, and suddenly you flip the script. Why?”
“I just woke up. What I feel for him is family stuff, not the ‘I want to sleep with you‘ kind of love.”
“Who actually believes that?” Fred’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Everyone in this city knows how crazy you were for him. ‘Just family‘? That’s the best you could come up with?”
Trista’s lips thinned. “I’m just done humiliating myself. That one–sided worship is cheap and exhausting. I’ve had enough. Is that allowed?”
By evening, Trista had found an apartment near the west–end healing center.
She was about to sign the lease when her brother, Attwater, called.
He sounded panicked. He said he’d accidentally broken something incredibly expensive and the owners were holding him until he paid. He blurted out an address and the line went dead
Trista checked the GPS pin: Ironthorn Private Airfield.
Her heart sank, Attwater was only fourteen, and he worshipped the ground Cassian walked on.
“Is that bastard actually using a kid to set a trap?”
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
Cassian was a master of leverage. If he “accidentally” let Attwater break a helicopter rotor or
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something and then slapped her with an astronomical bill, the Silverlight pack would never be free of him.
She hailed a cab and tore toward the airfield.
At the same time, near the runway.
Fred was busy arranging for Wynn to take Attwater home first.
Cassian’s black sedan rolled to a stop, and he stepped out, looking impeccable. His suit was perfectly tailored, his tie pin caught the sharp light–he’d clearly spent time on his appearance.
“Where’s Attwater?” Cassian asked, frowning.
“Just sent him off,” Fred said, rolling his eyes. “The kid was shaking. He felt terrible about tricking his sister for you. You better make this count.”
“Tricking her?”
“Stop talking. Trista’s car just passed the gate. Get on the plane and wait.” Fred shoved him toward the cabin door.
When Trista burst onto the airfield, she only saw Fred waiting for her.
“Where’s Attwater?” she gasped, her eyes frantic.
Fred let out a heavy sigh and pointed toward a helicopter with its rotors already spinning. “He’s up there.”
“What the hell is he doing on Cassian’s chopper?”
“I just got here myself. It’s complicated. You better go see for yourself.” Fred shrugged with a perfectly innocent face.
As the cabin doors shut and the bird lifted off, Fred finally let out a long breath. “Bro, that’s a far as I can take you.”
To get Trista on that flight, he’d played on Attwater’s hero–worship of Cassian to pull off the ‘emergency!‘
Given Trista’s current temper, whether Cassian won her back tonight or not, Fred knew he was going to get an absolute earful later.
10:00 PM. A private island off the coast of L.A.
The helicopter touched down on a private landing pad, Humphrey and a squad of Ironthorn guards were already waiting,
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The normally unflappable beta bowed as the door opened, but the moment he saw Alpha Cassian step out, he froze.
Humphrey rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.
When they’d left this morning, Cassian was the picture of an Alpha–crisp, imposing, perfect.
Now? His hair was a mess, his designer jacket was nowhere to be found, his tie was hanging sideways, and several buttons on his shirt had been ripped open..
He looked like he’d just survived a wrestling match in a broom closet.
Humphrey’s lip twitched. He tactfully lowered his head and looked at the ground.
Trista stepped out behind him, adjusting her clothes.
She recognized Humphrey; he was Cassian’s shadow, the beta who followed orders to the letter.
She looked around. The salt air hit her face–this was one of Cassian’s private estates.
In her past life, they’d spent their hollow, miserable honeymoon here. It was the same place where Cassian had coldly sworn never to bother her again.
Right now, the island was practically buried in roses.
Under the glow of thousands of fairy lights, white, purple, and champagne roses had been woven into massive heart shapes.
There wasn’t a single red rose in sight–because in her past life, she’d screamed at him that she hated the color of blood.
Trista knew exactly what play he was running.
She turned to the man she’d spent the flight trying to fight off and asked, “Cassian, what exact are you trying to say with all this wasted paper?”
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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.