The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 6

**Trista’s POV**

I hesitated for a brief moment, instinctively stepping back from the door as if it were a barrier I could no longer face.

“Enough,” a voice echoed in my mind, firm and resolute, a mantra I desperately needed to hear.

With trembling fingers, I unclasped the bracelet from around my wrist. The cool metal grazed my skin, a sharp sting that jolted me back to the present moment.

I let it slip from my grasp. The bracelet tumbled onto the edge of the hallway carpet, the diamonds catching the light and scattering it in a cascade of cold brilliance beneath the lamp’s glow.

In the background, I caught a faint whisper of Cassian’s voice. It was gentle, like the softest of feathers brushing against my skin. “You need to rest. I’ll get the shifter healer…”

My mind was a whirlwind, buzzing with thoughts I could no longer untangle. Their conversation faded into a distant hum, lost in the chaos of my swirling emotions.

With a heavy heart, I forced my feet to move. I exited the Evening Primrose Ward, searching for solitude. I found a vacant corner and leaned against the wall, feeling the urge to shift rise up my spine, a primal instinct battling against my will. The desperate need to cry clawed at my throat, threatening to break free.

I struggled against it, whispering soothing words to my wolf. “Even in our most vulnerable moments, we must choose the right time and place to let go. We are the Luna,” I reminded my wolf, hoping to instill some sense of calm.

It responded with a soft whimper, retreating its claws as if understanding the weight of my words.

The journey back to Ironthorn was a blur; I couldn’t recall the steps I took, only the night wind whistling through the crack of the window, a haunting melody that echoed my own turmoil. His scent lingered in the air, faint and diluted, almost like a ghost of what once was.

I stepped into the shower, the water cascading over me like a gentle embrace, but even the hairdryer felt heavy in my grasp. My fingers, leaden and unresponsive, refused to press the button.

Eventually, I sank into my bed, my eyes wide and red, staring into the darkness until exhaustion finally claimed them.

I gathered all the resentment and pain I felt, pressing them against my heart like small, jagged pebbles until they settled into a quiet ache.

Once Ulva was well again, I would lay those papers on the stone table at the center of the packhouse, a testament to my resolve.

Then, I would wait, heart pounding, for him to accept my rejection.

That would be my answer, not just to myself, but to the pack’s order: Sometimes, mending a torn mating bond isn’t about stitching it back together; it’s about severing it completely.

Yet, the mere thought of rejecting him sent waves of despair crashing over my wolf.

In the stillness of the night, all my emotions surged forth, overwhelming me as my agony reached its peak.

I curled up, burying my face in my hands, but the soft gasps I tried to suppress escaped, betraying my struggle.

At that moment, the border ward vibrated gently, a subtle ripple like wind across still water, signaling that our Alpha had returned home. Soon, I heard the familiar sound of a car engine outside the villa come to a halt, followed by the click of the lock turning.

The scent of Ironthorn enveloped me, steady and warm, carrying the lingering heat of metal and fire.

I heard the bedroom door creak open softly, and that familiar scent washed over me, wrapping around me like a blanket.

He approached the bed, taking a seat beside me, his breath a cool breeze reminiscent of the sea and the night. It brushed softly against my face, igniting a flicker of warmth in my chest.

I sensed his wolf bowing to me—not in an act of dominance, but in a sincere attempt to find peace between us.

In my mind, I conjured an image of him: shoulders relaxed, neck tilted slightly, his presence radiating an unspoken apology.

He deliberately lowered the intensity of his pheromones, letting them flow through our mating bond, a familiar gesture he often employed after a disagreement.

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