The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Third Person’s POV

The morning lights were just flicking on in the Royal Healing Institute hallway.

Finished

營堂

Trista scanned her key card to enter, but before she even reached her clinic, someone stopped her. The Executive Director was waiting.

He personally ushered her into his office, addressing her with deferential werewolves courtesy, “Luna Trista.”

His voice was soft, but his eyes darted away.

He started with the usual corporate fluff–how much the Institute valued her healing success, how respected she was–before finally landing on the real issue-

He “gently” suggested she might want to consider quitting on her own.

Both of them knew this wasn’t the Institute’s decision. It was pressure coming from far above.

Trista didn’t fight him.

She listened, said she’d think about it, and walked out.

Her stride was steady leaving the office, yet her heart felt scooped out and dropped into an ice bucket, sinking silently.

She knew the source.

Howard, back at the Ironthorn manor, had coldly warned her he’d give her a week to resign.

If she didn’t know her place, he would call the Executive Director himself.

He hadn’t even waited that long.

Trista headed for the elevators.

Rounding the final corner, she froze.

In the lobby stood Cassian, holding a child. Samantha was right beside him, her sweet, cloying omega scent climbing his shoulder and mixing with his cold, smoky aura.

It was the perfect picture: the strong Alpha, the sick, drowsy pup, and the tightly–clinging omega mother. A textbook happy family of three.

Trista stopped.

Her wolf gave a low, quiet spasm deep inside, then instantly curled up, refusing to look.

The metal elevator doors reflected the hallway’s harsh light.

Cassian, checking the time, caught Trista in his peripheral vision.

Their eyes locked–a brief, hard collision in the air.

His gaze stuck, rigid. He glanced down at the pup, then back up at her.

15.30 Fri, Dec 26

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Chapter 62

Finished

In a heartbeat, his throat worked hard. Instinctively, he put the child down and took a step toward her.

Samantha noticed his move.

She grabbed his arm, leaning into him, trying to reel him back.

“Cassian,” she looked up, her voice tightly controlled. “Your mate won’t want to see Algernon and me.”

She lowered her head in a submissive omega posture. “He has a fever. Take us up first, then you can come back and explain to your Luna.”

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.

Cassian glanced back at Trista.

His eyes held hesitation, guilt, and a frustrated struggle to break free.

His wolf paced anxiously, urging him to chase.

He paused for a few agonizing seconds, then lowered his head, picked the child up, and followed Samantha into the elevator.

The second the doors sealed shut, Trista spun around and walked the other way.

Her steps were technically even, but it felt like she was walking on a thousand unseen shards, each step grinding her heart a little finer.

The mating bond was a raw, tearing pain in her chest.

Inside the elevator, Cassian leaned against the metal wall, holding the child.

The polished surface reflected his image, and clearly etched in his mind was the sight of Trista’s back as she turned and walked away.

His chest was heavy, as if tightly squeezed from the inside. His wolf growled low, claws raking his ribs.

His original plan in Santa Monica was to talk to Trista, to persuade her to return to Ironthorn.

That night was completely hijacked by Samantha’s frantic phone call.

A week later.

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