The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 45

**TITLE: Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane**

**Chapter 45**

Cassian’s POV

“Luna Trista—”

The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

I recognized that voice immediately, and it sent a shockwave through me. I pivoted on my heel, my heart racing as I collided with the silent, sorrowful gaze of Trista.

In that instant, a tightness enveloped my chest, a visceral reaction that echoed deep within me. My ‘wolf’ stirred in my ribs, its ears pricking up as if sensing the tension in the atmosphere. It began with a low, mournful whimper, quickly morphing into a hollow sound that resonated like a distant echo of despair.

I hastily tossed the items I had been holding into the shopping cart, urgency propelling me forward as I navigated through the aisle toward her.

“What are you doing here?” Wynn’s voice cut through the chilly air of the supermarket, her irritation palpable.

I shot her a look, attempting to temper the sharpness of my presence as I closed the distance to Trista. “Why are you out?” I asked, concern lacing my tone.

Just as my fingers were about to graze her sleeve, she flinched away as if my touch were a searing flame. “Don’t touch me!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

Her scent was a chaotic blend, unlike her usual cool, woodsy aroma; it was now tainted with the metallic tang of shock and fear.

I instinctively withdrew my hand, a wave of apprehension washing over me. I feared that any further movement might shatter her completely.

Trista wrapped her arms around herself, retreating in a frantic manner, reminiscent of a frightened pup cornered by an unfamiliar threat.

I stilled, even my breathing reduced to a whisper, as if the very act of drawing air could break the fragile moment. A chill constricted my throat, a chain of ice that mirrored the dread pooling in my gut.

Her gaze was locked onto mine, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. I recognized this rhythm all too well; crossing the line could lead to her feeling suffocated. She was desperate to escape. With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed past me, turning to flee.

The harsh light from the escalator’s glass strip cast an icy line across her back, a stark contrast to the warmth I longed to provide. I sprinted after her, calling her name, my voice cracking under the weight of my urgency—like a bell tolling in the wind on a desolate night at the Stone Circle.

I lunged forward, positioning myself in front of her just before she reached the escalator. “Where are you going? Let me take you home,” I urged, my heart pounding.

She was already spiraling out of control. Ignoring the curious stares from bystanders, she fought against my presence, her voice rising in desperation. “Help me!”

At that moment, it felt as if a hammer had struck me directly in the chest. My ‘wolf’ fell silent, the realization crashing down on me like a tidal wave: she viewed me as a “danger.”

Wynn rushed to my side, placing herself protectively between us.

“Let go! Luna Trista doesn’t want you touching her!” she shouted, her voice laced with urgency.

Fred appeared, drinks in hand, his eyes darting around the scene in alarm. He muttered a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

He reached out, attempting to steady Trista, but I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my arm around her waist, my resolve firm. “I’m taking her home.”

Fred shoved me aside, pulling Trista closer to him. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to see you?” he snapped. Wynn, on the verge of tears, stepped forward and pushed me again. “It’s all your fault she’s like this! Can you just let go?”

The cacophony of noise, the blaring lights, the cold air, and the mingled scents of the crowd surged around me, drowning my senses like a raging tide.

I took in Trista’s pale face, the pallor of her skin sending a wave of dread through me. I knew that any explanation I could offer now would be akin to stuffing wadded paper into a gaping wound—it would only absorb the pain, swell, and cause more hurt.

“Get some rest,” I said softly, rising to my feet. “I’ll go grab you something to eat.”

Just then, my comm-stone vibrated insistently in my pocket. I glanced at the screen, and the caller ID flashed—a name that felt like a branding iron against my skin.

I instinctively turned to Trista.

She bit her lower lip, trembling as she fought to maintain her composure, but the silence between us was deafening. I turned back to Wynn. “Stay with your Luna. Don’t leave her sight,” I instructed, and with that, Fred and I stepped out of the ward.

Fred raised an arm, blocking my path. “Cassian, what exactly do you want? You just acknowledged your relationship with Samantha and her son. Trista is in distress, and now she finds you buying Samantha’s tampons.”

He scoffed, “Can’t she walk herself?”

My chest tightened, frustration boiling within me. “She called me, said it was urgent, asked me to pick up a pack. I merely agreed.”

Fred pressed on, relentless. “She asked you to pick her up from the airport, and you agreed. She confided in you, saying she had no one to care for her, and you agreed. She was afraid of being judged, pleading with you not to disclose the child’s identity for now, and you agreed again. You can bend over backward for her, so why do you scrutinize every detail when it comes to Trista?”

I frowned, confusion clouding my thoughts. “When have I ever nitpicked with Trista?”

He didn’t hold back, his words cutting deep. “You’re doing it now, forcing her compliance with money! She just asked to borrow a million dollars from me to terminate the mating contract with you.”

I stared at the hospital room door, my heart sinking. My wolf whined within me, a voice of despair whispering, “This is the price—the path I chose is now turning against me.”