Chapter 33
**Chapter 33 p>
**Cassian’s POV p>
The evening breeze drifted in from the nearby river, bringing with it the sweet and cool scent of evening primrose, a fragrance that always seemed to wrap around me like a comforting embrace.
I ground the cigarette butt beneath my shoe, feeling the lingering warmth on my fingers, a reminder of a moment I was eager to leave behind.
“She’s back,” I stated firmly, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I will take responsibility for my actions, but I will not allow the Ironthorn Pack’s boundaries and order to be compromised p>
“I will settle the issues that need addressing, and I will draw that line myself,” I declared, my tone brooking no argument.
Over the years, I had established numerous personal boundaries—rules etched not just on paper, but woven into the very fabric of my being.
Even as the familiar tug of Samantha’s pheromones beckoned to me, I was resolute; I would not allow that guilt to cross the boundary I had drawn between myself and my mate.
That boundary was not only a mating contract; it was a fundamental aspect of my duty as an Alpha.
Moreover, I had to remind myself—I did not truly love Samantha.
Fred let out a noise of disbelief, a sound that felt like pouring alcohol on an old wound. “Wynn told me that Trista’s wolf claws scraped her own scent gland to pressure you, and you didn’t even flinch. You still want to tell me Samantha is ‘the past p>
I rubbed my brow, feeling the weight of his words. Wynn had a talent for amplifying situations, turning whispers into roars.
Seeing my reluctance to engage in an argument, Fred’s expression shifted to one of seriousness. “You keep saying Trista is spoiled. But look at her now—working at the Royal Healing Institute, assisting the pack as Luna. Is she still that willful Silverlight she-wolf from before? Are you really seeing her now p>
I chose silence, allowing his words to linger in the air.
Trista had indeed become more dependent and gentler after we mated, yet that innate stubbornness still flickered within her like a stubborn flame.
My wolf stirred in my mind, issuing a quiet warning: “Don’t judge the current person by an old memory p>
I made my way back to Samantha’s room in the Evening Primrose Ward. The house assistant peeked out from behind a serving cart, her eyes brightening upon seeing me.
Quickly, she donned a professional smile, clearly expecting a compliment.
I maintained my aura, keeping my Alpha presence contained within the room. With a simple gesture, I raised my hand, signaling her to place the tray down. “Thank you. We need to discuss business,” I said, my voice steady and devoid of any warmth.
She placed the tray on the small table beside the bed, her posture instantly stiffening, as if she sensed the gravity of the moment.
I wasted no time, getting straight to the point. “I will settle your pay through this Friday. You will receive a lump sum payment for the remaining hours of your contract p>
Her eyes widened in shock. “Mr. Simmons, Ms. Fernandez, if I did anything wrong, please tell me. I can fix it p>
I kept my voice even, but unyielding. “This position requires someone with a better sense of boundaries. You won’t be needed starting tonight. The payment will be transferred within the hour p>
Her gaze instinctively darted to Samantha, seeking some form of reassurance.
Samantha, however, kept her eyes fixed on the back of her hand, offering no defense; I was the one who signed the employment contract, and I was the one who would decide who stayed and who left.
Truth be told, Samantha had been satisfied with this assistant. Just last night, she had even mentioned a raise.
But Fred’s words echoed relentlessly in my mind.
Wynn was my sister, and the authority of an Alpha was non-negotiable. I understood that all too well.
The assistant left the room, and an uncomfortable silence enveloped us.
Only the cool scent of evening primrose lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the space.
I stood by the window, recalling the spot where I had crushed the cigarette; the memory still stung my fingers.
Yet, the phrase I couldn’t shake was the one she had uttered in the lobby—”They are mates p>
That sentence felt like a dull piece of metal pressing against my chest, heavy and unyielding.
“Cassian?” Samantha’s voice broke through my thoughts, tentative and uncertain.
She sat up in bed, her expression cautious, as if she were afraid of what I might say next. “Trista is so upset, and she even told her colleagues I was your mate. Are you sure you don’t want me to apologize formally to her p>
“Not yet,” I replied, keeping my voice low, ensuring that my emotions didn’t ripple through my aura.
She nodded, but then added, “She works at the Royal Healing Institute nearby. If she sees you visiting me, we’ll have conflicts again. Maybe you shouldn’t come tomorrow. Just hire a certified nurse. I can handle things myself p>
“I apologize for what Wynn and Trista did. I’ll have someone fix the damage to your apartment as soon as possible. Just stay here for a few days,” I assured her, my tone steady and firm.
Then I made the crucial point clear. “One more thing—don’t seek her out without my permission p>
She quickly explained, “I only wanted to clear the air. I didn’t think about the conflict p>
“No apologies. No contact,” I stated decisively.
As long as they didn’t meet, unnecessary conflicts could be avoided. Trista was proud; if she wasn’t provoked, she wouldn’t bother Samantha. If Samantha didn’t seek her out, she wouldn’t be targeted.
I set the rule firmly, and Samantha quickly backed down. “I understand. I won’t approach her, ever p>
Finally, I returned to the Ironthorn House after eight p.m.
The place was shrouded in darkness—no lights illuminated the rooms, no music or television broke the silence.
The house felt completely muted, as if it were holding its breath.
I climbed the stairs and paused at the master bedroom doorway, where the boundary seal glowed faintly in the dimness. My scent was instantly blocked, a reminder of the separation that loomed between us.
I stood there for a few breaths, feeling the heavy weight in my chest swell. My wolf ground its teeth in my mind, a primal instinct urging me to act. “She’s rejecting you p>
I descended back downstairs, took a quick shower to wash away the day’s burdens, and returned to the door. With determination, I raised my finger and tapped the pack symbol on the doorframe three times.
The silver-salt and moonstone lines faded, and the threshold allowed my aura to seep through by a mere inch.
I pushed the door open, and the bedside lamp flickered to life, casting a soft, pale golden glow across the room.
She lay sound asleep, curled on her side, her scent gland pressed gently against her neck. Her scent was subdued, contained at the lowest level—a small defensive posture, a subconscious shield.
My wolf paused behind my ribs, yearning to draw closer, but I held it back, knowing the boundaries I had set.
I didn’t disturb her; instead, I sat on the edge of the bed, allowing myself a moment of quiet contemplation.
My fingers found the diamond chain, and I carefully clipped it onto her left wrist.
The metal clicked softly against her skin, a silent reaffirmation of her dignity—the Luna’s title and responsibility belonged to her alone, not for anyone else to define.
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