Trista’s POV
His embrace closed around me like a cage. The mating bond in my chest gave a violent yank, and my wolf let out a low, pathetic keening. It fought him harder than ever, the urge to claw surfacing as a burn in my fingertips.
He ignored my struggling and pulled me tighter.
I could see a fracture in his eyes–a flicker of heartache he couldn’t quite suppress.
“Trista,” he rasped, his voice impossibly soft. “Everyone has a past. Samantha is just mine, and so is that kid. Stop holding onto my past like it’s a weapon.”
“The past?” I let out a sound that was half–laugh, half–sob.
I couldn’t break free, so I did the only thing I could: I bit his shoulder.
The copper tang of blood exploded in my mouth, and my wolf finally caught its breath for a fleeting second.
Cassian stiffened, his breathing hitching from the pain.
He loosened his grip slightly, but he didn’t let go.
I grabbed a fistful of his suit jacket, clutching it until my knuckles went white.
His scent still clung to me, a net made of air keeping me trapped.
My wolf let out a low rumble of a snarl beneath my skin.
“Your ‘past‘ is backstabbing me right now for that she–wolf,” I said, fighting back the surge of emotion. “Your ‘past‘ is you promising to play provider for them for the rest of your life. I’m not the one holding onto your past, Cassian–you are the one dragging Samantha and her son out of the past, into the present, and all the way into our future!”
We stared each other down. The air felt like a heavy stone pressed against my chest by his Alpha aura; even breathing felt like a chore.
“Looking after them doesn’t mean I’m throwing away our contract,” he explained, his voice low and steady. “It doesn’t mean I’m giving up on you.”
He paused, as if swallowing back something sharper. “I’ll admit, I’ve handled things poorly since she got back. But it’s not what you think between us.”
I looked into his eyes, feeling as numb as frozen snow.
The bond was still burning, but heat didn’t mean it’s whole. It felt like a raw nerve–touch it, and it hurts.
“You said it yourself, Cassian–Samantha was the one you actually wanted to mate with. You don’t love me. And since you don’t love me, just let me go!”
Cassian’s face darkened, inch by inch, like night falling over the room.
I could see the shadow of his wolf thrashing in his eyes, but he kept it on a short leash.
“Is love really that big of a deal to you?” he asked.
The question was so absurd I almost laughed.
I gave him a look of pure scorn. “You’ve spent years pining for Samantha. You tell me if it’s a ‘big deal.”
I realized then that our biggest problem wasn’t Samantha or some blueberry cake.
The scariest part was that he truly believed that was enough.
He genuinely thought “status” and “resources” were valid/substitutes for “devotion.”
I looked up at him, my voice quiet but firm. “Cassian, I want the devotion. I want the respect of you telling me things without me having to ask. I want the kind of loyalty where you’d change your behavior just because you know I don’t like it. I want a man whose world starts and ends with me. That is security. That is commitment.”
For a moment, I felt a strange sense of daze.
The fractured mating bond twitched again, mocking me for ever putting my hopes in a man who refused to look back.
I pointed toward the door, feeling an exhaustion that reached into my bones. I’ve been working all day, Cassian. I’m exhausted, I don’t have the energy for your excuses, and I don’t have the energy to figh
I paused, using the last of my strength to draw a line in the sand. “From now on, I don’t want to see you anymore. Get as far away from me as possible.
Cassian stood there, watching me in silence for a long time.
He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t exactly back away either.
Finally, he pulled a jewelry box from his pocket and set it on the dining table.
“Get some rest,” he said, his voice low, as if he’d locked all his emotions back into his chest

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