Chapter 167
Chapter 167
Third Person’s POV
She hadn’t waited up for him, and she hadn’t left a single light on in the house.
This wasn’t an oversight; it was a clear statement.
Cassian entered the bedroom, switching on only the dimmest strip of floor lighting.
The faint amber glow snaked along the baseboards like smoldering fire kept on a short leash.
He stood by the bed, silently watching Trista sleep.
45%
Finished
She was on her side, her breathing shallow, her shoulder blades looking sharper than he remembered. With the blanket pulled to her chest and her hair spilled across the pillow, she looked like a piece of silent, still
art.
In the past, no matter how late it was, she would always wait for him.
Even later on, when she found out about him and Samantha and they were at each other’s throats, she might have stopped leaving the light on, but she never actually slept.
She would toss and turn, like a restless she–wolf constantly patrolling the borders of her territory.
Back then, she was always picking fights over Samantha and Algernon.
He had always wanted her to be calmer, more rational–to learn how to bottle up her emotions.
Now, she had finally done it.
She was calm enough to suggest he go to Samantha for his “needs” without a flicker of irritation. Her pheromones were as flat as a dead sea, as if she’d completely sealed herself off.
Yet, there was a hollow ache in his chest.
It wasn’t the relief of finally getting what he wanted; it was a gnawing restlessness. The other end of the mating bond was far too quiet, leaving him unable to gauge a single thing she was thinking.
The next morning, Trista woke up in Cassian’s arms.
She had assumed he’d spend the night at Samantha’s; she hadn’t expected him to come back.
Opening her eyes, her first reaction wasn’t a pleasant surprise, but a wave of exhaustion and absurdi
Tending to the woman and child he loved one minute, then returned to this bed to play her ‘mate‘
If she thought about it for even a second, she felt exhausted for him–and pathetic for herself.
The moment she shifted to get up, Cassian stirred.
He sat up and hooked an arm around her waist, pinning her to the bed.
“Why didn’t you leave a light on for me last night?” he asked.
Trista looked down, her voice as flat as a manual. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. I’ll try not to make
18:42 Mon, Jan 5 = GQ
Chapter 167
that mistake again p>
45%!
Finished
During those six months she was in France, he had Samantha to keep him company; he hadn’t needed her light then.
She knew these “demands” were just his way of constantly reminding her of the agreement–training her like a disobedient wolf until she became the Luna he envisioned.
Her response was stiff, creating a blatant wall between them.
Cassian’s face darkened.
He stared at her, his gaze hardening like stone, as if her very obedience had stung him.
“Since you’ve developed such a ‘thorough understanding,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of a command, “go ahead and review that agreement from start to finish today p>
Trista didn’t argue. She didn’t ask questions. She simply agreed, then turned to head to the bathroom.
The sound of the shower filled the room, and steam soon clouded the mirror.
Cassian sat on the edge of the bed alone, his back rigid, his expression grim.
He didn’t get up immediately; he sat there for a long time, holding in a breath that felt like lead in his chest.
Since it was the holidays, neither of them was in a rush to leave.
The house felt cavernously empty, the echoes in the hallway thin like a layer of ice.
Trista poured herself water in the kitchen; Cassian reviewed files in the study or stood by the floor–to- ceiling windows taking calls.
They crossed paths multiple times, but neither spoke.
There was no shouting, but there was no warmth either just the residual chill of suppressed pheromones lingering in the corners like an invisible fog, making it hard to breathe.
It wasn’t until Trista had her coat on and was heading for the door that Cassian finally broke the silence.
“Your mother is being discharged tomorrow.” He spoke evenly, as if checking off a schedule. “Christmas’s is in two days. I’ll take you to the mall this afternoon to pick up some things for your parents p>
Trista gave a small nod, her hand already on the door handle.
As the door cracked open and a gust of cold’air rushed in, Cassian’s voice came from behind her clear, and carrying a reminder she couldn’t ignore. “Trista. Are you forgetting something again p>
Trista froze at the door.
She realized what he meant almost instantly.
She turned back, walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a brief, feather–light brush of her lips against his.
The kiss was incredibly short, lacking any linger–it was purely a “daily check–in p>
C
18:42 Mon, Jan 5 GR
Chapter 167
No emotion, no response. Just clinical compliance.
43%
Finished
She didn’t even wait for him to reach out before she turned and vanished through the door.
The front door stayed open for a moment as Cassian stood there, watching her enter the elevator.
Before the doors slid shut, she didn’t even look back.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong, only that the current Trista felt like a blade with the edges sanded down–still sharp, but no longer pointed at him.
The ringing of his phone snapped him back to reality.
Around 10 AM, Cassian arrived at the apartment where Samantha was currently staying.
The buildings and security were decent enough, but they were nowhere near the “territorial” standards of the Ironthorn pack.
As he walked in, his first move was to scan the living room with cold, diagnostic eyes–like he was inspecting
a scene.
“I heard Algernon was hurt,” he said. “Where is he p>
Send Gifts
120
18:42 Mon, Jan 5 GR.
The Heartbroken Luna’s Choice: Banish Love
Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.