The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 42

**Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane**
**Chapter 42**

**Trista’s POV**

**Finished**

The car window shimmered with fleeting reflections of white and green as we sped toward downtown LA. The vibrant city unfolded before us, a sprawling tapestry of neon lights and illuminated road signs that clung to the glass like a delicate film, painting a chaotic yet mesmerizing picture of the night. The flash I had just glimpsed belonged to a chain drugstore, a brief flicker in the urban landscape.

A sudden pang of urgency stirred within me, and before I could censor my thoughts, I blurted out, “I need to use the restroom.”

Cassian, ever attentive, raised a finger, tapping the front seat with an air of command. The driver responded instantly, pulling over to the curb with a practiced ease.

As the car came to a halt, Cassian’s fingers brushed against my lapels, his touch so gentle it bordered on ceremonial. “I’ll go with you,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The moment my feet met the pavement, I felt his grip on my wrist, unyielding and firm. The warmth of his palm contrasted sharply with the chill that seeped into my bones, a reminder of the emotional turmoil swirling inside me.

The sharp scent of pine wafted from his pheromones, filling the air around us, so potent that it made each breath a struggle. I could feel the weight of his presence, a heavy blanket that both comforted and suffocated me.

As we approached the pharmacy entrance, I hesitated, glancing up at him. “Relax. Even for my family, I won’t do anything foolish,” I reassured him, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

He scrutinized me for a few moments, his gaze piercing, before his fingers finally relinquished their hold on my wrist.

The chime of the door echoed in the stillness as I stepped inside. I made my way directly to the counter, my voice barely above a whisper, “Afterpills, please. Thank you.”

The clerk looked up, her eyes appraising me with a mix of concern and curiosity.

In the mirror behind her, my reflection was a haunting sight. My hair was tousled, wind-blown and wild, while my eyes, red and puffy from a night spent stifling emotions, resembled a river’s surface marred by jagged ice shards.

Leaning in slightly, she lowered her voice, “Do you want me to call the police for you?”

I shook my head, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “No, thank you,” I replied, clutching the medication tightly as I stepped back out into the night.

The cool breeze enveloped me, washing away the lingering scent of Ironthorn and replacing it with the acrid aroma of gasoline that permeated the city.

Cassian was waiting for me outside, his eyes immediately drawn to the pill box in my hand. I noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor; his expression grew colder, the warmth fading from his features.

He didn’t speak a word. Instead, he guided me back to the car, his presence a silent command.

Once the car door clicked shut, it felt as though the world outside had been muffled, cocooned in a soundproof bubble.

He extended his hand toward me, palm up, his request clear and unyielding. “Give it to me.”

I turned my gaze away, my fingers deftly opening the blister pack. Slowly, I pushed the pill out of its foil casing, tossing the empty wrapper into his palm without a second thought.

I placed the pill on my tongue, feeling its weight settle in my mouth. He handed me a bottle of water, and I swallowed it down, the pill feeling like a stone plummeting into the depths of my stomach.

**Finished**

But the next moment, everything shifted. Cassian’s grip was swift and unyielding as he seized my chin, his fingers deftly prying my mouth open. Before I could react, he extracted the pill from my mouth with a calm that was chilling in its efficiency.

The water I had just swallowed went down the wrong way, and I found myself gagging, coughing violently as my chest tightened in protest.

He was immediately at my side, a steady presence as he held my shoulder, patting my back with a soothing rhythm. He offered me more water and tissues, his demeanor composed and silent, as if performing a task he had long since mastered.

“You used the Ironthorn Pack to pressure your grandfather and father, saying you’d take responsibility for them—was I wrong about that, too?”

With each question, the wolf inside me roared against my ribs, a desperate plea for acknowledgment.

**Finished**

My pheromones surged within me, clawing at my throat as if trying to escape, to tear through my vocal cords in a desperate bid for freedom.

I pushed it down, like a frigid chain wrapping around my throat, silencing the chaos within.

I trembled, teetering on the edge of losing control. “I don’t want a mate like this. I don’t.”

This wasn’t mere venting; it was a declaration—drawing a line between us and the pack law that dictated our lives.

Suddenly, he enveloped me in his arms, his grip firm and unyielding, as if trying to mold me back into the role he had designated for me.

His palm moved soothingly across my back, the scent of pine in his pheromones pressing down on my shoulders, attempting to pull me back from the brink. “Trista, forget everything you heard outside that study door.”

I fought against him, once, then twice, the struggle igniting a fire within me. The memories of that study—the words exchanged, the images burned into my mind—were like hot coals beneath my skin, searing into my very being.

I was not an empty vessel. I had memories, I had bones, and I bore a mark on my collarbone that was both present and hauntingly absent.

The mating bond may not have left its mark, but the humiliation and the broken vows were etched into my skin, woven into the fabric of every breath I took.

Turning my head away, I spoke, my voice gravelly and raw, “I can’t forget. Never in this life.”