The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175 

Third Person’s POV 

Finished 

Cassian went quiet for a heartbeat before giving a stiff nod. “Fine. I’ll pick you up tonight. We’re heading back to the Ironthorn estate together.” 

The cab pulled up to the curb. 

Trista smoothly reclaimed her arm from his grip, climbed into the car, and left without looking back. 

Cassian stood there on the sidewalk, watching the taxi merge into the mid–day crawl of LA traffic. He didn’t move until his driver cleared his throat, reminding him they were idling. 

Back in the car, Cassian rolled down the window and lit a cigarette before they even pulled away. 

His comm–stone flickered to life. He glanced at the screen, saw Samantha’s name, and ignored it. 

Smoke swirled through the cabin, blurring the hard lines of his face. 

By noon, Trista finally had her parents and Attwater settled into their high–rise apartment downtown. 

As the elevator doors hissed shut, the protective runes etched into the metal flashed–a silent promise that the outside world and its prying eyes stayed on the street. 

The second they stepped inside, Ulva grabbed Trista’s hand and pulled her into a bedroom, locking the door behind them. 

She pressed her palm against the wood, feeding a sliver of lunar magic into the panel until a faint silencing barrier shimmered into place. 

“Trista,” Ulva said, her voice laced with worry. “What the hell is going on with the news? All those headlines…” 

Trista gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Mom, don’t lose sleep over that garbage. Public opinion is just a weapon people use. It’s half lies, half theater. Don’t let it get to you.” 

Ulva let out a heavy sigh. 

She could see it in Trista–the way she was detaching from Cassian wasn’t an act of surrender. It was a wolf pulling back her loyalty, piece by piece. 

“Power and money are just things,” Ulva warned. “Your soul staying intact is what matters. No matter what happens, don’t let this consume you. Your wolf can’t handle being torn apart a second time.” 

Trista felt a sharp sting behind her eyes. She forced a smile and fought back the tears. “I know, Mom. I’ve got this.” 

Lunch was the first time Trista felt truly grounded since her return. 

She spent the whole afternoon with her family, resetting the energy of the apartment. 

She filled the balcony with silver–veined plants specifically chosen for their ability to stabilize moods and scrub the air of restless pheromones. 

She placed fresh bouquets in the living room, binding the stems with twine and pinning a small lunar–carved wooden charm to the knot–part decoration,,part ancient ward. 

She grabbed her coat, gave her parents a quick heads–up, and hauled ass to the airport. 

Isaiah was hard to miss at the terminal. Tall, lean, and dressed in a style that screamed “high- end rebel,” he looked like he was using his expensive clothes to cage the beast thrashing inside him. 

He walked with a swagger that pushed the very air out of the way, creating a void around him. 

Trista met him halfway, keeping a polite, professional distance. “Alpha Isaiah. Welcome to LA. Do me a favor–three deep breaths. Bring yourself back into your body.” 

Isaiah’s brownish–gray eyes glared at her. “Tell me the truth–did you block me?” 

Trista reached for her stone to show him she hadn’t cut his signal, but a new, much more aggressive ping lit up the crystal. 

The light was sharp and cold–a command from someone who didn’t take ‘no‘ for an answer. 

It was Cassian. 

She hesitated for a split second. 

That was all the time Isaiah needed. He lunged, snatching the stone from her hand with the speed of a predator. 

He didn’t even look at the ID. He just saw an interruption he didn’t like and, with a look of pure spite, hit the Decline button.