Page 97 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

I stopped a few steps away, unsure if I should approach.

"You can come over," she said without turning around. "I won't bite."

I walked over and sat on the bench beside her. About a foot of space between us—a safety buffer she'd deliberately left.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"My throat's a bit hoarse," she said, taking a sip of water. "But I'm fine."

"You—" I paused. "You were incredible. I—"

"Don't say sappy things," she interrupted, tone as flat as if she were slicing bread. "I just did what needed to be done."

"But you did what I couldn't."

She finally turned to look at me. Those eyes held no pride, no smugness, only a calm, assessing gaze.

"That's because you lost your voice," she said. "And I found mine."

The words drove into my chest like a knife.

She was right. She'd found her voice. And me—I'd lost mine with my own hands.

"Mia—" I began, voice hoarse.

"The ceremony was successful," she interrupted, standing up. "My job's done. I'm leaving tomorrow."

My heart lurched.

"Leaving?"

She brushed fallen leaves from her dress. "Lily still has school. I have a tour to prepare for. Things here are finished."

"But—"

"No buts," she looked at me, eyes calm as stagnant water. "We had a deal. I help you restore the Howling Ceremony, then we're even."

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

She was right. That was our agreement. I'd promised. I'd promised with my own mouth.

But I—

Damn it. I couldn't do it.

"If," I began, voice so hoarse I barely recognized it, "if you leave, the Howling Ceremony can't continue."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"My voice hasn't recovered," I said, every word scraped from my throat. "Your song only temporarily replaced mine. If you leave—"

"Then that's not my problem."

"Mia—"

"Zane," she turned to face me, and finally some emotion flickered in those eyes—not anger, not resentment, but a tired, weary tone, like explaining the same thing to a child who won't listen for the hundredth time. "I'm not your solution. I'm not your tool. I'm not a substitute to fill what you lost."

"I know—"