The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 28

**Where Soft Light Shines, Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane**
**Chapter 28**

**Trista’s POV**

I never truly wished for death; my desire was solely to inflict pain on him.

The instant the dull edge of the knife pressed against my neck, my wolf’s senses surged to attention, its ears perked up as if they could hear the very heartbeat of the moment.

Sweat pooled in my palm, making the knife handle slick and precarious, threatening to slip from my grasp.

I locked my gaze onto his, desperately yearning for just one response—a simple plea, “Don’t go.”

But instead, I received his icy ultimatum, a chilling proclamation that sent waves of pain and despair crashing over me.

**Finished**

Suddenly, my mind conjured vivid memories of my father, hunched over blueprints late into the night, his reading glasses perched precariously on his nose, tirelessly adjusting figures. I remembered my mother, her face weary and drawn, as she conducted her healing sessions at the center.

My wolf instinctively retracted its claws, its voice a soft whisper in my chest, “Don’t hurt them.”

A constriction gripped my throat as the knife’s point lost its potency—not a sign of surrender, but a stark realization that this weapon would not harm him. Instead, it would only tear through the fabric of my own clan, my own family.

The knife slipped from my fingers, feeling as weightless as a feather, yet the sound of it clattering to the floor echoed in the emptiness of my heart.

I didn’t resist when he enveloped me in his arms; I was already a hollow shell, devoid of fight.

His scent wrapped around me, familiar yet charged with the metallic tang of iron and the warmth of fire. I noticed how he subtly adjusted his pheromones, trying to weave them through our mating bond, seeking to comfort me.

That warmth reached deep within me, behind my sternum, yearning for a connection that had long since frayed. It felt misaligned, slipping away like sand through fingers.

Our bond remained, but it was akin to a silver thread soaked in rain—rough and uneven, unable to transmit any warmth or connection.

My wolf attempted to embrace what remained of that bond. Its ears perked up momentarily before drooping back down. “Out of sync,” it lamented.

I was left trembling, like a fragile line wavering at the very edge of a frequency, ready to snap at any moment.

He carried me upstairs, the comm-stone vibrating ominously in his pocket, a steady knock echoing against the silence of the closed door.

**1/4**
**11:07 Sat, Dec 6**

**Chapter 28**

**Finished**

He dampened a towel and began to wipe me down, methodically moving from my forehead to my palms, tracing every inch of my skin with careful precision. He smoothed my hair back gently and tucked the blanket snugly up to my collarbone.

His movements were meticulous, each stroke deliberate, as if he were ensuring that every physiological parameter returned to a safe threshold.

Yet, with each touch, I felt the weight of his restraint. It wasn’t protection; it was a declaration—he was merely fulfilling his duty.

A soft twitch of the mating bond stirred beneath my ribs, only to quickly dissipate. I felt no genuine warmth returning, just an echo of what had once been.

Outside the door, I heard him giving Wynn quiet instructions, phrases like “not coming back tonight” and “watch her” dropping into the air like stones into a still pond, leaving no ripples behind.

The door clicked shut, leaving just me and the sound of my own breathing in that small, dim room.

I turned my face to the cold side of the pillowcase, seeking solace in its chill.

My wolf urged me softly from within, “Stay alive. Stop the bleeding.”

I hummed a quiet tune, my voice still trapped within me. I dug my fingers into the textured cotton, tracing the lines, counting how many more moments I could hold on until dawn broke.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Wynn entered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, her hands fumbling as she pressed tissues into my palm.

Her eyes were red and puffy, a mirror of my own pain. She cried alongside me, her voice hoarse and strained. “Luna Trista… don’t stifle yourself until you can’t breathe. The mating bond is still there. He… he might be influenced by that she-wolf’s pheromones. He’ll come back to his own den.”

I shook my head vehemently, forcing my voice to remain steady. “I was just trying to scare him. I’m fine. Go home.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but a soft sound from outside the door interrupted her.

Fred peeked in, the scent of night rain and the faint aroma of wood from the bar clinging to him.

His gaze fell on me, darkening as if he were trying to press his concern deep into his very bones. “Trista, stop pushing yourself down. If you keep this up, your gland will break. Wolves don’t suppress themselves like this.”

**2/4**
**11:07 Sat, Dec 6**

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