Hazel Ashford was draped over the edge of the bed, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
But Sylvia Nightfang coaxed her gently. "Don't cry, sweetheart. When you cry like this, it hurts me."
He let out a quiet sigh. "Racing was always dangerous. You worried about me constantly. I'd actually been thinking about stepping away for a while now. This just moved up the timeline, that's all. Ashford, didn't you always say I neglected you because of racing? Now that I can't compete anymore, I can spend all my time with you."
He paused, his tone softening further. "Our mating anniversary is coming up soon. Let's hold a feast at the Nightfang estate. We'll celebrate properly. How does that sound?"
The indulgence and tenderness in his voice made it unmistakable how much she mattered to him.
Only then did Hazel Ashford's tears turn into a watery smile. She wiped her eyes and, like a child, held out her little finger to hook around his.
"It's a promise."
The scene drove a sharp, wrenching pain through my chest. Somewhere beneath my ribs, something went very still, the way a wolf lies down when it has finally stopped hoping.