Chapter 340
Third Person’s POV
Cassian let go of the handle, and the heavy oak door slammed shut, locking Trista inside the kitchen.
Trista twisted the metal handle frantically, but Cassian stood outside like a gargantuan beast guarding his territory. He held the door shut with one hand, staying unmoved no matter how hard she threw her weight against it.
“Cassian, you’ve already trashed the Ironthorn reputation for Samantha! You’re so close to the finish line!” Trista screamed through the wood, her voice thick with desperation.
“Just sign it, and I swear I’ll use every skill I have to stabilize her soul. You can invade her mind however you want-I’ll do it for free p>
Cassian yanked the door open without warning. A violent wave of Alpha energy, fueled by suppressed rage, hit her like a physical blow.
They stood in a standoff in the narrow doorway.
Cassian’s pupils had shrunk into two shimmering gold slits. A low, guttural warning vibrated in his throat. “If you dare say that one more time, I will mark you right here and now. I’ll make sure you never leave these walls for the rest of your life p>
Trista’s heart skipped a beat. It was the primal fear of a bloodline suppression. She quickly grabbed her apron and pressed it against her mouth, cutting off her scent and staying silent.
She watched the shadow of Cassian leave the house before she finally dared to take a breath.
If Samantha’s condition was making Cassian this frantic, then she was his only weakness.
As long as he still cared about his old flame, he’d eventually be backed into a corner where he had to accept the separation.
That afternoon, Trista left the Shadowfang territory early.
She stopped by a specialty market to pick up some fresh lobsters her parents’ favorite catch back when they lived in the Silverlight territory.
When she got to their house, a neighbor told her Randolph and Ulva were at the park.
Trista followed the familiar scent of her parents through the air.
From a distance, she saw them standing awkwardly among a group of elderly werewolves with their grandkids. They were loudly bragging about their descendants’ bloodline awakenings.
Trista was about to step forward when she heard a bitter old woman holding a little girl chime in. “Isn’t your daughter a senior healer? They’ve been mated for years— how come I haven’t smelled a pup on her yet p>
Randolph and Ulva traded an uneasy look. It was the look of fallen aristocrats trying to maintain their dignity. “No pups yet,” Ulva replied softly.
“Still nothing?” an old man mocked, sniffing the air. “Too busy healing other packs to bother with her own family’s legacy p>
Ulva lowered her head, her eyes dimming. “She’s focused on her career. They aren’t planning on kids right now p>
Trista watched her parents retreat from the boastful social circle. Her father, Randolph, once a proud warrior with a straight back, looked hunched and old in the sunset. Her mother ducked into the shadowS the trees to wipe away tears.
A wave of bitterness washed over Trista.
As a werewolf, she could feel the pheromones of decay and sadness rolling off them.
From her toxic mating to the child she lost before it could even feel the moonlight, her parents had always been tike old guard dogs, protecting her with their broken wings. They had never once blamed her
She couldn’t imagine how much they had endured for her, or how many moonless nights they had spent crying together in the dark.
Late night in L.A. The streets were a mess of wild scents, and the neon lights looked like the eyes of predators.
Trista walked through the city center, her hair windswept and her eyes bloodshot.
She felt like an idiot-she’d been so blinded by “true love” back then that she’d lost her senses.
Now she saw the truth: a mating bond wasn’t just about two werewolves; it was about the rise and fall of two families.
She had chosen the wrong one, and now her parents were paying the price in shame.
A white sports car slid silently up to the curb.
Fred killed the engine and called her name several times before Trista’s grief- stricken senses finally rebooted.
Fred got out. His sharp nose immediately caught the scent of desperate tears in the air. “Did Cassian use his aura on you again p>
Trista shook her head. Her throat felt like it was stuffed with burnt wool; she couldn’t get a single word out.
On the cold sidewalk, Fred dropped his usual playboy act and offered her a shoulder.
Trista leaned into him, and the heartbreak she’d been holding back finally erupted in hot tears.
“I went to see my parents,” she
sobbed, her voice breaking in the wind. “The neighbors… they kept sniffing me, asking why I don’t have
a pup i saw my mom crying in the shadows. I feel like my soul is being ripped apart p>
The two of them stood there on the sidewalk, their eyes reflecting the city lights.
Fred noticed a black luxury car creeping up behind them, radiating a bone-chilling, dark aura that could only belong to Cassian.