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“I will slit my own throat before helping your kind! You can burn in hell, every single one of you! I wish I’d never met you, Griffin! I wish I’d agreed to help Cassian. At least he didn’t burn my mother alive!” Maya’s words are ripping me apart. Her eyes are wet and filled with homicidal rage. “I hate you. With every breath in my body, I hate you, Griffin! Get out of my sight!”

Her chest is heaving, fury in her every breath. All of a sudden, she grips the back of the chair closest to her, her other hand clutching at her chest, her eyes terrified as she struggles to draw in air.

I recognize the panic attack. My feet move toward her, but the door bursts open and Mathew rushes past me. “Maya! Maya, it’s okay! Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He helps her into the chair and is comforting her, his hands wrapped around hers. I stare numbly at the scene playing out before me.

That should be me offering her comfort. That should be me she’s leaning against.

But I’m the source of all her anguish. The sight of me upsets her. She is having a panic attack after simply talking to me.

I always told myself that her departure was for the best. For the first time, I wonder if I made a mistake, if I truly did ruin her life.

Turning on my heel, I leave.

Chapter Fourteen

Griffin Wild

I should leave Seattle and return to my kingdom, to my people who need me. But I can’t bring myself to walk away again.

The city wraps around me like a foreign blanket as I stand outside GenTherapeutics, watching the lights still burning on the top floor where Maya works through another late night. Rain drizzles down, clinging to my hair, my shoulders, my skin. I hardly feel it.

All I feel is the hollow ache where our bond should be—where it still is, diminished but refusing to die completely.

Maya’s words echo in my mind: “Your people killed my mother, and you’re here to collect on a contract based around her?”

Did they? Did someone from my kingdom murder Helen Sorin? The thought leaves me cold in a way the rain never could.

I close my eyes, remembering that night. The search for the facility had been grueling, fruitless. We ultimately found the building—abandoned, cleared out. Evidence destroyed. Only the cells remained as grim testimony to what had happened there. Seven survivors, barely alive.

When we returned the next night, exhaustion bone-deep, the news of Helen’s death hit me like a physical blow. The cottage was reduced to ashes. Maya was gone.

Erik had found me standing in her empty lab. “She left late this afternoon,” he said quietly. “She wouldn’t tell anyone where she was going. I’ve asked around.”

I remember walking to what remained of her cottage, sifting through the charred ruins. The dress—the beautiful red dress I’d chosen for her—was balled up on top of a pile of rubble, looking like it had been thrown there after the fact. I took it with me, unable to explain the impulse that made me rescue it from the trash heap.

Now, with Maya’s accusations ringing in my ears, I wonder who gave the order to throw it away. Who conducted the investigation into the fire, the one I was told was already complete, neatly tied up with a conclusion of “faulty wiring”? Was I too consumed by grief, by duty, to question it?

“I wish I’d agreed to help Cassian. At least he didn’t burn my mother alive!”

Remembering the rage in her voice makes my wolf pace and snarl, desperate to fix what I’ve broken. I pull out my phone and dial Erik.

“Have you spoken to her?” he asks immediately, not bothering with formalities.

“Yes.” My voice sounds hollow to my own ears. “She refused.”

“Then, come home. We’ll figure it out some other way.”

I gaze up at the window where I know she works. “I need you to reopen the investigation into Helen Sorin’s death. Full access to all records. I want to know who conducted it, who signed off on the conclusions.”

A long silence stretches between us. “Griffin—”

I cut him off. “Maya believes her mother was murdered. And that I knew.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Erik protests. “Why would you—”

“She was told that we received a message about the fire and chose not to return.” My voice hardens. “Someone lied to her, Erik.”