The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 223

Cassian stood frozen, eyes snapped shut as he took a ragged breath, fighting to keep the raging wolf inside him from tearing out.

Trista saw her opening and flashed Samantha a look.

Samantha took the hint, leaning down to whisper in the boy’s ear.

Algernon immediately rubbed his little stomach and looked up at Cassian with puppy–dog eyes. “Trista, I’m hungry.”

“Dinner’s served, everyone. Let’s sit,” Trista said, ushering the group toward the dining room.

When Cassian stayed rooted to the spot like a statue, Trista walked back and hooked her arm through his. She softened her edge, her voice dropping to a persuasive hum. “Look, they’re already here. Let’s just feed them. If you’ve got a problem with how I’m handling this, we can hash it out behind closed doors once the guests leave.”

Cassian gave her a look of pure suspicion. “Are you

Trista grabbed

ser

s calloused hand and pressed it against her heart, her face a mask of total

sincerity. “I swear. I mean it.”

Isaiah couldn’t resist one last dig from the sidelines. “The kid’s literally starving, man. Are we eating or just standing around looking intense?”

Fred jumped in to help stir the

help stir the pot. “You guys can settle your marital drama later. The kid is innocent. Since he’s your son, the least you can do is show a little Alpha hospitality, right?”

Cassian shot a lethal glare at the two of them. He felt backed into a corner, his pride taking a massive hit.

Between Trista’s coaxing and the audience watching his every move, the funung Alpha leader finally allowed himself to be dragged into the dining room.

Trista had one goal tonight: under the witness of everyone present, she was going to make Cassian own that “Daddy” title once and for all.

Once everyone was seated, Trista stood up and raised her glass. “To new neighbors and old friends. Let’s make this a regular thing. Cheers.”

Everyone raised their glasses–except Cassian. He was white–knuckling his drink so hard the stem looked ready to snap.

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Trista practically forced the glass into his hand, whispering, “Honey, do it for me. Just this

once.”

That one word–Honey–acted like a damn spell. Cassian actually took the glass and drained it.

“I have an announcement,” Trista continued, her voice bright. “I’ve officially claimed Samantha’s son as my godson. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on.”

She flashed Samantha a signal.

Samantha immediately stood up and poured her son some juice. “Algernon, say hello to your Godmother and Godfather.”

Trista cut her off with a sharp smile. “Just Godmother is fine. He can keep calling Cassian whatever he’s used to. No need to change a thing.”

Algernon chirped in his sweet, high voice, “Thanks, Godmother!”

“Good boy,” Trista replied. “And that apartment on the 18th floor? Consider that my welcoming gift.”

Samantha nudged her son again. Algernon looked up at Cassian and let out another loud, clear, “Daddy!”

Under the cover of the long dining table, Cassian’s massive hand shot out and clamped around Trista’s wrist. He was squeezing so hard it felt like he might actually snap the bone.

Trista winced, looking down at the iron grip before meeting his eyes.

His dark gold irises were flickering with a violent, suppressed rage.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he spoke, his voice a lethal whisper. “Trista, take it back. I am not agreeing to this ridiculous godparent bullshit.”

The weight of his aura was so heavy that Samantha looked like she was being

ned to stone.

As a low–ranking rogue, her instincts made her curl her toes and hold her breath, terrified of being crushed by the fallout.

Fred, however, didn’t blink. His own Alpha heart was more than enough to shield him. He casually waved for Samantha and Algernon to start eating before turning his sharp tongue on Cassian.

“What are you so pressed about? Algernon calls you Dad anyway. Are you suddenly shy now that you have to admit it in front of the pack?”

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A low, guttural growl vibrated in Cassian’s chest–the sound of a predator about to rip into its

prey.

He leveled a murderous stare at Fred, his voice dripping with rank–based aura. “Shut your mouth, Fred. My patience has a limit. Don’t push it.”

Fred didn’t back down; he just shot back a smirk that said he knew exactly how close the Alpha was to a total mental breakdown.

That’s when Isaiah decided to chime in. His nose twitched as he caught something in the a. “Hey, Trista… is it just me, or does the kid’s scent not really match your mate’s at all? I’m catching a lot of ‘rogue‘ backwash. It’s a little messy for a pureblood line, don’t you think?”

Cassian snapped his head toward Isaiah, his killing intent hitting like a tidal wave. The glasses on the table rattled. “Shut. Up.”

Samantha’s heart nearly stopped. Her nails dug into her palms as cold sweat soaked her shirt.

She was terrified–Isaiah’s instincts were too sharp. Werewolves had a primal sense for bloodlines, and he had just sniffed out the one secret she needed to stay buried.

Seeing the table about to be flipped, Trista reached out to settle Cassian’s temper.

She tapped into what was left of their failing mating bond to try and ground him. “Cassian, you’re my mate. If my godson doesn’t acknowledge you, who is he supposed to look to? You want him kissing the hands of every other male in this room instead?”

Cassian turned his lethal gaze on Trista. “You’re not claiming him. Period. I won’t have a tainted bloodline associated with my name in this territory.”

Isaiah stood up, pulling Trista with him, a defiant smirk on his face. “If you’re so disgusted by it, Cassian… how about Trista stays the Godmother, and I step in as the Godfather? Sound like a plan?”

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