The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 170

Chapter 170 

Third Person’s POV 
Cassian followed her out. 

He spent the entire drive managing the fallout through the Mind–Link with Humphrey. His orders were short and razor–sharp, like a blade scraping across stone 

But even as he worked, his peripheral vision never left Trista. 

She looked indifferent. Her scent was so clean it was almost a void, as if this entire storm had nothing to do with her. 

The car crossed the Ironthorn boundary line. 

A thin layer of frost seemed to settle on the windows as the city noise died away, replaced by the damp, cold air of the forest and stone paths. 

The sound of tires crushing gravel felt unnervingly loud in the night. 

The house was ablaze with lights–a fortress that never slept. 

Trista was out of the car first, with Cassian right on her heels. 

He’d just cut the link and reached out to stop her. “Wait a second-” 

Trista shook his hand off with a sharp, fluid motion. She didn’t give him a chance to speak. 

Instead, she walked up and greeted Wynn as if nothing had happened, her poise absolutely flawless. 

She knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

It was always the same script, “Watch what you say in front of the elders. Don’t make this any uglier. Don’t drag the family name through the mud.” 

But she was done protecting him. 

Trista stepped into the living room and offered her polite greetings to the room full of people. 

Wilmot’s face was a bruised purple from rage, Alaina’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and the elders‘ gazes were like a row of cold blades landing on Cassian. 

The pheromones in the room were heavy–a sea before a hurricane, calm on the surface but ch deadly currents underneath. 

Wilmot pointed a finger at his son, his voice shaking. “Look at the mess you’ve made!” 

Cassian’s voice remained steady, the tone of a soldier accepting a reprimand. “It was a lapse in judgment. I’ll handle it.” 

Alaina couldn’t help but chime in, her voice trembling. “You’re always pushing the envelope, Cassian. Did you think you could just ‘handle‘ a scandal like this?” 

Wilmot looked ready to explode, his fist slamming into the arm of his chair. “Find that reporter. Now. Int her run out of LA by morning!” 

Cassian shot a subtle glance at Trista before speaking. “Dad, this is on me. It has nothing to do with anyone else.” 

Finally, Howard moved. He was sitting in the high chair at the head of the room. 

He gave a slight nod to a nearby omega, who immediately understood. Everyone was ushered out; even Wynn was “escorted” upstairs. 

When the heavy doors clicked shut, the wind was cut off and the room felt like it had been sealed inside a steel box. 

The omega brought out a whip and stood behind Howard, holding it out with both hands like a ritual sacrifice. 

Howard’s voice was a low, ancient growl that seemed to compress the very air in the room. “Kneel.” 

Cassian looked at Trista, took off his suit jacket, and handed it to her. 

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