The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 30

**Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane**
**Chapter 30**

**Trista’s POV**

The room was still dim when I stirred awake in the Ironthorn House bedroom, my senses jolted into alertness by my internal clock. It was too early for the alarm, but my body had other plans.

I shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face to wash away the remnants of sleep. With meticulous care, I applied band-aids over the marks on my scent gland, selecting a lunar color match that blended seamlessly with my skin. After a light touch of makeup, I slipped into my comfortable work attire, a reminder that I was preparing for a day of healing, not the girl I once was at seventeen—an eager soul waiting for him to finish his meetings downstairs or posting couple selfies on Instagram for the world to see.

No, I was no longer that Luna, flaunting my “love” and emotions for everyone to scrutinize. Today marked a new chapter; I was solely responsible for myself.

Hayden’s warning from the previous night echoed in my mind: there would be a “special case” to handle this morning.

With determination, I moved through the clinic, checking the silver needles, moonstone conductor plates, herbal steam pots, and pheromone stabilizer sprays that would aid in the healing tower. I wouldn’t allow any distractions to hinder my preparations. Only when everything was in order did I finally open my comm-stone.

Messages flooded in like raindrops, each one vying for my attention. Most were from the early risers: Cassian, Wynn, and Fred.

As I read Fred’s message, a pang of concern shot through me—Wynn had gone to see Samantha last night after all. Impulsiveness was her trademark, and it seemed Fred had been unable to rein her in.

“All healing is essentially self-healing,” I reminded myself, the mantra a lifeline. I had to remember that no one could truly rescue me from the depths of my own despair but myself.

The morning slipped away as I immersed myself in the rhythm of basic healing tasks. Time fractured into tidy segments: olfactory spectrum tests, disinfecting scratch wounds, guiding silver threads, and low-dose evening primrose steaming.

My hands were a blur of motion, a flurry of activity that kept my mind anchored. As long as I was busy, I could stave off the chaotic thoughts threatening to overwhelm me.

By noon, my colleagues began to trickle out for lunch, the break room emptying of life and laughter. I remained by the window, not wanting to make the trek back and forth. My takeout sandwich sat untouched, a testament to my preoccupation.

Steam gathered on the lid of the container, forming tiny droplets that danced down the sides.

The healers gradually vacated their offices, leaving the break room eerily quiet. I pulled a chair closer to the window, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in my bones. I didn’t have the energy to engage in conversation or even to walk.

The untouched sandwich had begun to slightly swell inside its plastic bag, the heat inside causing condensation to form on the film, each droplet trailing down like the remnants of my own thoughts.

Then, the door swung open, and the familiar scent wafted in—the sharpness of iron mixed with the earthy aroma of pine, and a faint trace of smoke. I didn’t need to look up; I could feel it in my bones that Cassian had arrived.

The mating bond tightened subtly behind my ribs, a thin thread pulled taut by an unseen hand.

When I finally met his gaze, it was only for a fleeting moment before I lowered my eyes back to the sandwich film, fixating on the droplets sliding down the sides.

Today, I had heavily suppressed my scent gland, keeping my pheromones at a bare minimum.

Memories of the previous night surged back with the scent—the rain, the doorway, the fruit knife in my hand, his cold, flat warning. A chill settled in my stomach, as if a cold metal weight were pressing against it.

He took a seat across from me, his Alpha aura subdued, leaving only a gentle pressure that rested at the floor level.

I pulled my hand back, meeting his gaze head-on. “Cassian, why don’t you just stab me in the throat with your wolf claw?”

Even though I had steeled myself for whatever he might say, the weight of his request struck deep, sending a sharp pang through my heart.

His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. He gripped my wrist, his fingers steady yet constrained, as if he were trying to hold back a storm. “Wynn went to her, didn’t you put her up to it?”

So, this was his purpose for coming here—a reckoning.

My wolf let out a low sigh within my mind, a gentle reminder to conserve my energy. “Don’t waste any more of it.”

I swallowed my anger, determined not to let any aura slip through. “I told her to go,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the truth settle heavily on my shoulders.

Wynn had gone to confront Samantha, to defend me, and now that Cassian cared for Samantha so deeply, I could only imagine the fury boiling within him.

I refused to drag Wynn into our mess, but the thought of apologizing to Samantha felt utterly impossible.

He continued to stare at me, waiting for a sign of “obedience.” “Then go apologize to her,” he urged, his voice steady, but I could sense the tension beneath.

Humiliation surged within me, threatening to choke me. I straightened my back, forcing my breathing and heartbeat to synchronize once more. “Cassian, no matter how much you care for her, you are mated to me. You swore an oath before the Moon Goddess. As long as we haven’t terminated the contract, you and your lover are the ones betraying the vow. You’re asking me, the Luna of Ironthorn, to apologize to another she-wolf—don’t you see how absurd that is?”