**Where Soft Light Shines, Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane**
**Chapter 26**
**Trista’s POV**
I jerked my hand away from his grasp, my heart racing. “Your old flame is waiting for you. Go on.”
The words felt like a shield, but inside, they trembled with uncertainty.
Cassian cast a quick glance back at the imposing Day Clinic Tower, then turned his gaze back to me, his expression a mix of determination and concern. His fingers encircled my wrist, a firm yet gentle hold.
He began to pull me toward the car, his voice steady and unwavering. “I came to pick you up. We’re going to see your parents together.”
My feet refused to move. I felt as if I had turned to stone, my body caught in a moment of disbelief.
This was his typical “de-escalation protocol”—the way he maneuvered through my emotional storms. Whenever my feelings surged, he would redirect everything to “family,” insisting on accompanying me to visit my parents, showering them with extravagant gifts, or orchestrating my life as if I were a puppet.
There had never been a genuine apology, nor a moment of vulnerability that might have pierced the wall between us.
I wrested my hand free from his grip, my voice calm and measured. “No need. My parents don’t need you to worry.”
The impact of my words seemed to land on him like a dull thud. His brow furrowed, yet he maintained his hold on me. “I already called Ulva. She made salt-baked sea bass and roasted vegetables. They’re waiting for us. Randolph wanted to try a low-ABV IPA. I brought a few kinds. It won’t take long. I’ll drop you back at Ironthorn after dinner.”
His unsolicited plans ignited a fire of anger within me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my parents waiting in vain. I had to swallow my fury, forcing it down deep within me, where it settled like a stone in my gut.
My wolf stirred restlessly inside me, its instincts urging me to maintain control. “Go home. Don’t lose your composure here.”
As we walked, passersby cast envious glances our way, their eyes filled with admiration and intrigue.
Cassian wore a pristine black business suit, the top button undone, exuding an air of authority. His Alpha pheromones were tightly reined in—a blend of cold metal and flickering fire. He commanded attention effortlessly, a force of nature in any setting.
I used to feel pride when I saw him like this, but now, an unsettling numbness settled over me.
We arrived at the modest apartment where my parents now resided, the familiarity of the place tugging at my heartstrings.
“Please don’t buy so much next time,” Ulva said, her voice laced with discomfort as she eyed the mountain of gift boxes, the sleek electric coffee maker, and several cases of fine wine that cluttered half the living room.
The driver discreetly placed the last box down and slipped away, leaving us to navigate this tense reunion.
Cassian turned to my father, handing him his jacket with a calm demeanor. “You and Randolph should consider moving back to the Silverlight apartment. It’s closer to the healing center you frequent, and your commute to my office would be much easier. Trista has started working at the Royal Healing Institute. This commute is too much for her.”
My father set the roasting pan onto the kitchen island, his focus unwavering. “Let’s eat first. The food will get cold.”
We gathered around the island, a simple meal laid before us: salt-baked sea bass, olive oil-roasted vegetables, a fresh mixed salad, and warm pumpkin soup. The hiss of a soda can opening from the fridge punctuated the air.
Cassian worked to suppress his aura to almost nothing, exhibiting impeccable manners as he pulled out the bar stool for my mother, moved my father’s package aside, and meticulously arranged napkins for everyone.
He clearly felt out of place in the cramped, dimly lit environment of the old community, yet he maintained his composure, a mask of calm over a tempest of emotions.


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