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“And then what? You’ll keep drinking yourself to death?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“It matters!” I nearly shout, drawing stares from passersby. Lowering my voice, I continue, “What do you care about, Maya? What keeps you going?”

She stares at me, and for the first time I see the emptiness behind her eyes—not anger, not grief, but a hollowness that frightens me to my core.

“Nothing,” she says softly. “That’s the point.”

In this moment, I understand exactly what I’ve done to her. Not just broken her heart, not just pushed her away—I’ve extinguished the fire that made her who she was. The passionate, brilliant woman who defied captivity, who risked everything to help a wolf she barely knew.

I’ve destroyed her.

Or perhaps it was my actions paired with her mother’s brutal death that expunged her desire to live.

The realization nearly brings me to my knees.

“Maya,” I start, but she’s already shaking her head.

“Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the small photograph I’ve been carrying. “Here.”

She takes it reluctantly, then looks down at the image of Leanna and her children.

“I thought you might like to have it,” I say quietly. “Her name is Helen, named after your mother. She was born three months ago.”

Maya’s fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the faces in the picture. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because they miss you.” I pause. “Maya, even if you won’t come back, even if you hate me, I need to know you’re taking care of yourself.”

Her eyes lift to mine, suspicious. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll leave Seattle. I won’t look for you or follow you. But in return, I want your word that you’ll stop drinking. That you’ll try to live.”

She stares at me for a long moment, the photograph still clutched in her hand. “Why?”

“Because your life matters,” I say simply. “To them. To me. Even if you don’t believe it right now.”

Something flickers across her face—not quite hope, but perhaps the memory of it. “And if I don’t agree?”

“I’ll stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll follow you every night. I’ll make sure you get home safely. I’ll stop you from drinking yourself into an early grave.”

Her lips twist. “That’s extortion.”

“That’s caring about someone who won’t care about herself.”

“You can’t stay. You have a kingdom to run.” She looks back down at the photo, her thumb brushing over the baby’s face. “She looks like Leanna.”

“She does.” I risk taking a step closer. “But she has Cedric’s temper, according to the latest report.”

The ghost of a smile touches Maya’s lips. “Poor Leanna.”

“Poor Cedric,” I counter. “Leanna seems to find it amusing.”

She’s silent for a long moment, just staring at the image of her friend. I know she has nothing else to say, no promises to make.

My wolf howls in the confines of my mind, not wanting to leave our mate here, not when it knows that she may die, the way she’s treating herself. But Maya is right. I can’t stay.