Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 486
Third Person’s POV
C
Trista hopped off the helicopter with practiced agility and turned back toward Cassian.
“Alpha Cassian,” she said, her voice business–like. “Let’s get our stories straight. Regarding the cancellation of the ceremony, how do you plan to handle the public announcement?”
Cassian stared into her eyes, his brow furrowing into a tight, hard knot. His voice carried a trace of dangerous, suppressed tension. “What did you just call me?”
Trista blinked, then let out a self–deprecating scoff. She quickly masked it with a polite, borderline dismissive fake smile. “Cassian. My bad. Sorry.”
Watching her act so casual–almost heartlessly lighthearted–the flare of irritation in Cassian’s eyes miraculously vanished. It was replaced by a softness that bordered on humble.
He lowered his voice, sounding almost coaxing. “As long as you’re happy, I’ll handle the rest of the fallout.”
Trista shivered slightly, feeling a prickle of discomfort at the back of her neck.
This soft–spoken, gentle Cassian made her skin crawl even more than the cold–blooded CEO version did.
Now that they had reached an agreement, she didn’t want to stay a second longer.
“I’m going home,” she started, but Cassian cut her off.
“I know you have trouble sleeping in foreign beds. Give me a minute to shower and change, and I’ll fly you back personally.”
Trista opened her mouth to argue but stopped. She wondered if this black–hearted man had actually grown a soul overnight—he actually remembered her picky sleeping habits.
The two of them headed toward the helipad side by side.
Watching from a distance, Humphrey felt like his entire worldview was crumbling. Cassian had pulled consecutive all–nighters to personally oversee every detail of this top–tier proposal, only to have it crash and burn in front of this woman.
The supreme leader of the Ironthorns had actually failed to seal the deal?
The next morning, the helicopter touched down smoothly at the Ironthorn private airfield.
C
As the cabin door opened, Fred and Wynn led a crowd of people to swarm the landing pad.
Everyone was clutching confetti cannons, and the cheering was loud enough to lift the roof.
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Fred, sharp–eyed as ever, noticed Cassian had changed into a fresh shirt. He immediately shot him a suggestive look and hollered at the top of his lungs, “Congratulations! Looks like it was a wild night!”
Explosions of multi–colored ribbons burst over their heads, fluttering through the air.
Trista and Cassian shared a look; she didn’t say a word. She just gave Fred a look that could kill, offered a polite nod to the group, and before anyone could process what was happening, she slid into a waiting cab and vanished.
The high–energy atmosphere was instantly doused in ice water.
The crowd looked at each other in confusion before turning as one toward Cassian.
Cassian watched the cab disappear past the gate before finally pulling his gaze back.
“What happened, Cassian?” Fred leaned in, his voice low.
Cassian scanned the crowd, his expression unreadable and his tone as cold as a late autumn wind. “She just graduated. It’s too early to talk about mating. I want her to have a couple more years of freedom.”
Wynn, never one to filter her thoughts, blurted out, “Cassian, did you get dumped?”
The crowd erupted instantly.
“Are
you kidding? Everyone knows Trista was obsessed with getting into Ironthorn.”
“Exactly. She’s been his shadow for years. Why pull this stunt now at the finish line?”
“I bet the Silverlight pack is trying to raise the price. They’re drowning’in debt; they’re probably trying to blackmail him for a better deal.”
“What does she even have besides that face and body? Does she really think she’s still a high- society heiress?”
A few she–wolves who had always admired Cassian couldn’t hide their smirk. One whispered loud enough to be heard, “So what if she’s pretty? Girls who try to sleep their way to the top always get kicked to the curb eventually.”
Cassian stood perfectly still, his dark eyes cutting like a blade toward the ones talking the loudest.
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Charter 466
43
Fimited
He waited until the entire airfield fell into a graveyard silence before he spoke. His voice was low, vibrating with a terrifying intensity.
“Trista is my future Luna.” He took a slow step forward, his Alpha aura becoming so heavy the people around him struggled to breathe. “Are you talking trash about her to my face because you think I’m already dead?”
The girls turned deathly pale, cold sweat slicking their backs.
“We’re sorry, Alpha Cassian… we were just joking.”
“Yeah, we’re all friends here. We’ll watch our mouths next time.”
Cassian’s icy stare raked over every person present. “It’s fine.”
He would make sure they learned what respect actually felt like.
Under their stunned, uncertain stares. Cassian yanked open his car door. The roar of the engine tore through the silence as his sports car tore away.
“Alright, party’s over! Usual spot tonight, my treat!” Fred shouted, clapping his hands to dispel the thick tension.
A wave of forced cheering broke out as the crowd dispersed.
Fred grabbed a dazed Wynn and shoved her into the passenger seat.
“Fred, are you driving this fast because you have a hot date with the Moon Goddess?” Wynn snapped, buckling her seatbelt as the scenery blurred past.
Fred kept one hand on the wheel and reached out with the other as if to pinch the back of her neck, threatening, “If you don’t apologize to me right now, I’m dumping you in a ditch in the slums.”
Wynn expressionlessly pulled a small grooming blade from her bag. A flash of cold steel caught the light, and Fred yanked his hand back like he’d been electrocuted.
She grabbed his wrist, pressing the blade lightly over his pulse point. Her voice was flat. “Spill it. Where are you taking me? Or do I start bleeding you right now?”
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.