Chapter 108: To Live Again

(GRIFFIN)

Two days later, I’m back outside GenTherapeutics, watching the entrance. A message from Erik waits on my phone for a reply, the investigation has been reopened, discreetly. He has found inconsistencies already. The palace surveillance footage from that night is missing. The guard who should have been stationed near the cottages claims he was reassigned at the last minute.

But none of that matters if Maya continues on this path. The alcohol, the aloneness, the carelessness with her own safety, she’s killing herself, and I don’t know how to stop her.

The building’s doors open, and she emerges. But instead of turning onto her usual path home, she walks directly toward me.

For a moment, I think I’ve been caught, that she has somehow sensed me watching her. But there’s no surprise in her expression as she approaches, just weary resignation.

“How long have you been following me?” she asks without preamble.

“Since the day we spoke,” I admit, seeing no point in lying.

She nods, as if confirming a suspicion. “I want you to stop.”

“Those men could have hurt you.”

“Maybe that would have been for the best.”

The casualness with which she says it saddens me. “You don’t mean that.”

She shrugs, indifferent. “What I mean doesn’t matter. I need you to leave me alone, Griffin. I meant what I said, I won’t help you or your kingdom.”

“This isn’t about the kingdom anymore.”

“What is it about, then?” she challenges.

“You.” I step closer, unable to help myself. “The way you’re living, the drinking, the isolation…You’re hurting yourself, Maya.”

Her laugh is bitter. “Is that what this is? You’re concerned for my health?”

“Yes,” I say simply.

“Well, don’t be. I don’t need or want your concern. I don’t need or want anything from you. Just leave me alone.” She turns to walk away. I catch her wrist, unable to let her go like this.

“Do you know what happens to humans who drink the way you do?” I ask, desperate to make her understand. “Liver damage. Brain damage. Early death.”

“So?”

The casual dismissal of her own life infuriates me. “Is that what you want? To die slowly, painfully?”

“What I want,” she says, pulling her wrist from my grasp, “is for you to disappear from my life. Again.”

“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 Corrine 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 Corrine.”

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

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

“Poor Locke,” I counter. “Corrine 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.

Wait. Why can’t I drag her back with me? She’s going to die anyway if she goes on living like this. If I force her to come back—

“I will slit my own throat—”

Her dark threat resurfaces in my mind, and taking a deep breath, I turn around. I walk away, leaving my heart behind with her. I’ve done what I came to do, seen her, spoken to her.

But even hours later, as the distance between us grows, as Seattle shrinks to a speck out the window of my plane, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m making a terrible mistake.

Again.

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