**Chapter 10**
**Cassian’s POV**
The moment Wynn’s purse was airborne, I instinctively snapped my wrist back, catching her arm in a firm grip. With my other hand, I swiftly shoved Samantha into the fitting room, locking the door behind her with a decisive click. The sound echoed in the small space, sealing us off from the chaos outside.
I positioned myself like a sentinel in front of the door, my heart racing as I prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
Trista stood bathed in the harsh fluorescent lights, her expression almost ethereal, as if she were a ghost caught between two worlds. The faintest hint of her pheromones brushed against my chest, a delicate sensation that sent a shiver through me. The mating bond between us quivered, a reminder of the connection we shared, and it felt like a taut string ready to snap.
“You followed me?” I managed to keep my voice low and steady, though inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions.
She opened her mouth, but the words barely escaped. “You should be at the packhouse right now.”
Her gaze flickered past the mirror, landing on the faint mark where I had knelt moments before, a silent testament to my turmoil.
“You and Wynn need to leave immediately,” I said, taking a step forward, my back effectively blocking any escape.
“Move!” Wynn shouted, her frustration palpable as she reached for the doorknob, attempting to twist it open. “Bring that home-wrecker out here!”
I sidestepped, effectively blocking her path. “Shut up.” My voice was firm, laced with authority.
I directed my aura at Wynn, and her face drained of color, fear flickering in her eyes. “Go back with Trista. Return to Ironthorn.”
Wynn’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Trista loves you so much. How can you do this to her?”
Realizing that reasoning with her was futile, I turned my attention back to Trista. “Take her and leave now. We’ll discuss this later, tonight.”
Her gaze was clouded, yet it remained locked onto mine, an unspoken battle raging within her. “Since I caught you, let me see her face.”
“It’s not necessary,” I insisted, my heart pounding in my chest.
“What if I insist?” Her voice trembled, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. It was clear she was fighting to maintain control, but the strain was evident.
“Will you leave on your own, or should I call security to escort you out?” I enunciated each word carefully, hoping to convey the seriousness of the situation.
Our eyes locked, and I could see the moisture pooling in her gaze, threatening to spill over. It was as if someone had wrung out her heart, leaving her vulnerable. “Fine. I want to see what you’re willing to do for the woman you love.”
My voice dropped to a near whisper, edged with impatience. “Trista, don’t make me regret mating with you.”
She held my gaze for a fleeting moment, her lower lip trembling as a thin line of blood appeared where she bit down too hard. Then, in a sudden burst of emotion, she turned and walked briskly away, her steps quickening until she was nearly running.
Her scent lingered momentarily, fading into the distance as the mating bond within me yanked painfully, like a thread being violently pulled from my chest.
A sharp pang of anguish pierced through me, and my wolf howled in despair within my mind.
“Stupid! We are losing our mate…” It was the first time I had ever felt such raw anger directed at me from my own wolf, a reflection of my own turmoil.
Wynn wiped her tears and rushed after Trista, her voice echoing back to me. “Cassian, if Trista leaves you, I’m buying coffee for the whole downtown area!”
I stood before the door, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, before finally twisting the lock with a heavy heart.
Samantha emerged from the fitting room, a look of surprise etched on her face. “Why wouldn’t you let me meet her? The more you hide this, the more she’ll misunderstand us.”
I rubbed my brow, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She’s emotional right now. Wynn has a temper. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Then go after her,” Samantha urged, stepping back as if to give me space. “I don’t need the shoes. Go explain yourself now.”
“Wynn is with her. She’ll be fine,” I replied, signaling a staff member to bag the shoes Samantha had tried on. “I’m taking you back to the healing center first.”
I knew Trista all too well. When she felt cornered, she had a tendency to create a scene, which was precisely why I had kept our situation a secret.
But once the storm within her calmed, I was confident she would listen to my side of the story.
As we approached the exit, the pack driver opened the door for me, his forehead glistening with sweat. “Alpha Cassian, Luna Trista just ran past here, crying.”
“It’s nothing. Just drive,” I replied curtly, my mind racing with thoughts of Trista.
My wolf urged me, a low growl resonating in my mind—Go after her.
But I remained rooted in place, a faint prickling ache beginning to throb in my chest once more. It ebbed slowly, but instead of relief, panic surged through me.
The car door closed, and the cacophony of the city faded into a muffled hum behind the glass.
Samantha handed me a bottle of water. “Here.”
I didn’t take it, my gaze fixed straight ahead, my mind a blank slate, overwhelmed by the chaos of emotions swirling within.
She called my name softly, and that simple sound pulled me back to the present.
Just then, her scent wafted through the confined space—sweet, soft, yet undeniably alluring.
The mating pheromones quickly filled the air, and my wolf bristled, its ears flattening against its head as it let out a low growl of discontent in my mind.
I raised my hand, pushing out my aura to halt the scent’s spread. “Samantha, please stop that.”
She froze, her eyes glistening with tears as she instinctively pulled back her scent. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
I maintained my composure, keeping my voice steady. “That wasn’t a criticism. Unmarked she-wolves under stress unconsciously release mating pheromones. It’s a biological reflex. It’s not your fault. But it can be disruptive in an enclosed space. My wolf doesn’t appreciate it. Don’t worry—it doesn’t affect me.”
She nodded, tucking her shoulder in as if trying to take up less space, the tension palpable.
After a brief silence, she spoke softly, “Cassian, can you promise me something? Don’t tell anyone about my son and me, okay?”
I turned to her, curiosity piqued. “Why?”
She bit her lower lip, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Your grandfather—he used you to threaten me back then. He forced me to leave you. He wanted you to give up on me completely.”
She inhaled sharply, as if peeling back a painful memory. “I couldn’t forget you all these years. After I mated, my mate abused me constantly. He forced me to have children. I fell into a deep depression.”
“Sometimes, I just wanted to find a place to hide and quietly end it all. But then I thought of my child, and I couldn’t.”
“He died over a year ago. My son and I were finally free. That’s why I snuck back with my boy.”
“I’m terrified your grandfather will hurt us again. Please, don’t tell your family I’m back. I’m really scared.”
With her words hanging in the air, I felt the weight of her pain settle between us, a testament to the struggles she had faced and the bond we once shared.
