The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154 

Third Person’s POV 
Trista watched the suppressed rage and stifled pain on her family’s faces. She yanked her arm out of Cassian’s grip and hurried out of the ward before he could say another word. 

Cassian was too good at keeping up appearances. 

In that game, she was never his match. 

By the time she reached the exit of the healing center, her comm–stone vibrated. 

It was Xander. 

Listening to Xander’s restrained, clear concern on the other end, Trista felt her chest tighten at first, then a warm breeze seemed to brush over her. The hard, aching places inside her began to soften, just a little. 

“Thank you, Xander,” she said softly, her voice steady. “My mom… she’s awake.” 

Cassian stood right beside her, his gaze pinned to her face, catching every micro–expression. 

A simple greeting was all it took for her eyes to redden and for her pheromone threshold to lift–as if that small bit of kindness could actually pierce through all her armor. 

Yet, for all the “concessions” he had supposedly made for her, she wouldn’t even give him a second look. 

Trista hung up, and they climbed into the car one after the other. 

The backseat of the black sedan was narrow and quiet, like a tiny, isolated territory. 

The moment the door shut, Cassian’s pheromones spread silently, the base notes of fire and iron pressing down on the air with a sense of absolute order. 

He reached out for her hand. 

Trista instinctively tried to pull away, but the moment her fingertips moved, he took away her choice. 

He pulled her into his side, forcing her forehead against his chest. 

His heartbeat was steady and powerful–a declaration and a cage. 

“You’ve been busy all morning,” Cassian murmured. “You must be exhausted. Close your eyes for a bit. I’ll wake you when we’re there.” 

It sounded like concern, but the undertone was that classic Alpha command. 

The sheer weight of his aura left her with no room to refuse. 

Trista closed her eyes, her body rigid like a puppet in his arms. 

She didn’t struggle, but she didn’t respond either. Deep in her chest, the mating bond yanked tight, a thin wire pulling the pain into a long, agonizing line. 

In Cassian’s mind, Trista was supposed to be compliant and gentle–the kind of presence that could help him maintain his flawless image. 

She was elegant, well–educated, and stunning, yet she lacked a powerful family to back her up. Her position was prestigious but “safe“-easy for him to control, easy for him to manipulate whenever he pleased. 

From the start, this union had been about cold calculation and strategic positioning. 

Trista knew exactly what he was doing. 

He wanted the Ironthorn elders to see with their own eyes: despite that she–wolf, their kid, and the ugly rumors, his “world” was still intact. 

His Luna was still by his side, the mating bond hadn’t snapped, and the pack’s reputation was secure. 

The “submission” and “cooperation” she was forced to show today would become a protective shield for Samantha and Algernon. 

They entered the living room, and Alaina greeted them with a practiced warmth, as if hosting a ceremony that absolutely had to be perfect. 

Wilmot looked at his son with pure satisfaction, even a hint of smugness. 

He turned to Trista, his tone like an elder giving a lecture–or a pack master enforcing a rule “Now that you’ve come to your senses, live your life well with Cassian. Stop all that pointless drama 

Trista held herself together and didn’t reply. 

She kept her pheromones pushed down low, like a blade tucked into its sheath, letting nothing show. 

Howard sat in the head chair. He watched Cassian for a moment, his gaze heavy with a silent warning. 

Then, he looked at Trista, his voice slow and steady like an Ironthorn pack decree. “As long as I am alive, no one touches your position as the Ironthorn Luna. Those… ‘low–class‘ she–wolves outside? You can act like they don’t even exist.” 

Trista lowered her head and gave a polite, hollow response. “Thank you, Howard.”