Chapter 4

• Trista's POV
• Cassian cut his steak with his usual steady hand. His voice was low and calm, "Everyone has their own strengths. The apprentices here are excellent chefs. Order whatever you want. Don't worry about the cost."
• My heart gave a little tremor when I heard his answer.
• I thought I was numb already, but that dashed hope brought a fresh wave of pain.
• I nodded. The "Sure" I whispered was almost inaudible.
• That tiny flame of hope that had just sparked instantly shrunk to an ember. Then cold water hit it. It gave a faint 'hiss'.
• I lowered my eyes, hiding the stinging emotion.
• He could bake a lemon cake with his own hands at Sacred Springs Valley. He could promise "protection" under the fire magic glow. He could make his old love and her child smile while leaning on his arm.
• But for me? Learning one dessert was too much effort.
• Love or not love. It was just one sentence difference.
• The matcha truffles in my mouth tasted bitter now. Humiliation dropped down my throat, settling heavily in my stomach.
• We sat across the table. The silence felt like a taut string. Only the city wind passed through the glass, flowing like an invisible river at our feet.
• He walked over and adjusted my napkin. His movement was patient, almost perfect.
• I suddenly understood something: Expensive gifts and perfect service weren't the same as caring. They were often just byproducts of good manners.
• Cassian paused. He looked me over, his gaze comparing me to some memory.
• Even when we fought, I used to cry, argue, or cling to him. I was never this quiet.
• He raised a hand and casually tugged at his collar.
• Then, I noticed his comm-stone blinking on the corner of the table. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
• He glanced at it, but didn't move.
• When the comm-stone buzzed a third time, I met his eyes.
• The candlelight fractured in his gaze. I saw anxiety, but no impatience.
• She was looking for him.
• When the comm-stone vibrated a fourth time, he finally had to speak. "I have something I need to handle. I'll leave the pack driver for you. Go back soon. Don't wait up."
• He stood. I stood up too.
• A dull ache surged in my chest. I grabbed my bag and my comm-stone. "Go ahead. I'll get home myself."
• He didn't explain. I didn't ask.
• In that silence, we split onto two separate paths.
• As I turned, I spaced out slightly. My shoulder bumped the waiter's tray. My bag slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.
• The contents scattered. My lip gloss rolled under the table. A few sheets of paper fluttered in the lamplight.
• They were the copies of the Moon Goddess Rejection Protocol I picked up from the Elder Council. Bound with a black ribbon, it looked like a silent verdict.
• Cassian leaned down. I was faster. I snatched the papers into my palm before his fingers could touch them.
• Now was not the time. At least, not until my mother left the Healing Center.
• His eyes scanned past my spilled makeup and settled on my hand.
• His gaze narrowed. "What is that?"
• "Nothing, just receipts for the treatments," I kept my voice low, controlling my scent to hide my emotions.
• "Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.
• The edge of the paper was caught between us. The rubbing sound was thin, like a blade.
• Just as the paper almost slipped from my grasp, the comm-stone buzzed again in his hand.
• He gave me one look, then let go.
• The next moment, he was gone. His steps were quick and decisive. He left only his keys on the table.
• I told the pack driver to go back to the Ironthorn Pack. I hailed a cab and told the driver to follow Cassian's car.
• The night air snuck through the window crack. His scent was stirred into a small tide, hitting my ribs again and again.
• The diamond bracelet pressed against my wrist bone. It was cold, like a circle of fine frost, making my pulse beat more clearly beneath the skin.
• The chase ended when his car stopped at the drop-off ramp of the Healing Center. I followed Cassian's figure from a distance, all the way to the elevator.
• The mirror-like doors opened and closed in front of him. His figure was swallowed by the metal. Only a brief, candle-like reflection flashed.
• I took the other elevator. When I got out, the corridor was empty.
• "He is here..." my wolf whispered in my mind.
• I stopped at the end of the hall and gave a small, bitter laugh.
• The daughter of a former Alpha, now tailing her mate in the night like a female driven by jealousy.
• If I weren't worried about my mother's health, I would have ripped away all my dignity right there. I would have handed him over to Samantha—and given the pain that tore me apart right back to the one who caused it.
• I pressed my fingers to the corner of my eye, forcing back the rising moisture. I took a deep breath and smoothed my makeup.
• I walked to the healing ward and knocked on the door.
• Ulva was half-sitting up in bed. Behind the curtain, the healing runes glowed softly.
• She looked at me, her worry unconcealed. "Trista, tell me the truth—did you and Cassian fight?"
• I slowed my breathing, pushing the tears back. The wind outside passed the holy site's spire, carrying the subtle smell of herbs and light.
• I walked closer and held her warm hand.
• My wolf gently moved its paws, wanting to raise its head, but I forced it to settle down.
• "We didn't fight," I said. "It's just been busy with pack matters these few days. I'm just tired."
• The words landed softly, but felt like sand scraping my throat.
• I once told my parents that mating with Cassian was my greatest happiness.
• Now, how could I tell them the truth?
• How could I say that Cassian, the man they praised, had trampled on his vows?
• How could I say that I was ready to reject him and end our mating bond?