The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 277

Third Person's POV

That morning, she had lied to his face, telling him she was pulling an overnight shift at the healing center.

He hadn't expected to double back and find his home crawling with other high-tier males, yet he hadn't exploded in public.

This unnatural calm of his made her skin crawl with unease.

The dinner table was a battlefield: five grown men, one Trista, and a thick fog of competing pack pheromones.

Isaiah took the lead, pouring a glass for Alistair. "Alpha Alistair, don't hold back. Drink up. Treat this place just like home."

Fred chimed in, grinning. "Yeah, Alpha Alistair, drop by whenever you want. Don't be a stranger."

Cassian sat like a statue, his expressionless eyes fixed on Isaiah and Fred.

These two were acting like they owned the lease.

Seeing Attwater avoid the fish on his plate, Cassian spoke up, his tone parental. "Attwater, you're still growing. Don't be a picky eater."

Attwater gave Cassian a look of pure disgust before pointedly grabbing a rib instead.

Ever since the fallout between Cassian and Trista, the once-obedient pup had treated him like a blood enemy. Every look was a glare; every word was a bite.

Fred cut a side-eye toward Cassian and let out a cold laugh. "Being picky is a good thing for a kid. It means he knows what's worth his time and what isn't. It's the ones who try to grab everything in sight that act like unevolved animals."

Cassian's eyes snapped up. Their gazes locked across the table, heavy with unspoken warnings.

"Your sister and I will drive you home after this," Cassian told Attwater.

"I want to check in on Randolph and Ulva anyway."

Isaiah shook his head. "I know that route like the back of my hand. I'll drop Attwater off."

Cassian set his silverware down. A dangerous, lethal chill crept into his eyes. "You've been to Silverlight territory?"

Isaiah puffed out his chest. "Daily. Randolph and Ulva love me."

Cassian cut a glance at Trista, his fist clenching so hard under the table he had to take a slow, silent breath to keep from snapping.

When dinner finally ended, Isaiah left with Attwater, the Shadowfang guards collected Alistair, and Fred retreated upstairs.

The sudden silence that replaced the noise was deafening.

As Trista leaned over to clear the poker table, Cassian's massive shadow completely eclipsed her.

"That Alpha," he began, his voice thick with possessive territorialism. "Does he spend a lot of time at your parents' place?"

Trista didn't even look up; she just expertly redirected the strike. "Your mistress is being torn apart by the other packs for ruining the Ironthorn reputation. Your 'love child' is probably out there without a caretaker. And you have the energy to worry about me?"

In his tailored white shirt and black trousers, his physique looked lethal under the cool lights.

He leaned in, one hand locking around her waist, the other braced against the table, pinning her between his chest and the wood.

The air between them turned thick and heavy.

Trista leaned back on her hands, her eyes wide with caution.

"Let's talk this out," she tried to reason with the spiraling Alpha. "Let me go first."

Cassian's hand slid up from her waist, his hot palm dragging against her skin.

He stared at her lips, and his voice unexpectedly softened. "It's been so long. Did you miss me?"

Trista froze. She looked at him as if he'd told a ridiculous joke. She let out a cold laugh. "Cassian, have you lost your mind? You should be asking Samantha that—"

The rest of the sentence never made it out.

Cassian slammed his hand against the back of her head, cutting off any chance of retreat.

His lips crashed into hers with a desperate, aggressive hunger. He was trying to restrain himself, but he was failing—he had wanted her until he was half-insane.

He wanted her scent, he wanted her sharp words, but most of all, he wanted to reclaim every inch of her.