Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Kayden
"Layla!"
My hand clawed at empty air, fingertips grasping nothing but void. Her figure plummeted before my eyes, white dress billowing like the wings of a broken butterfly.
"No—!"
I jolted awake to find myself not at that cliff's edge seven years ago, but on the leather sofa in the charity gala's VIP room.
That dream again.
I dragged a hand across my forehead. My palm came away slick with cold sweat. Breath ragged, heart hammering until it ached. Seven years, and still the dream came—always when I was most exhausted, most vulnerable.
Always the same: Layla at the precipice. No matter how I called, she never looked back. Just threw herself forward into the abyss.
And I, always falling short.
Never catching her.
I slumped against the sofa, staring at the ornate crystal chandelier overhead, waiting for my pulse to steady. The VIP room was quiet, soundproofed—the gala's clamor barely a murmur beyond these walls.
I checked my watch. Eight PM. I'd only meant to rest for ten minutes before the gala began. Hadn't intended to fall asleep. Last night, I'd worked until three. Eighteen hours straight, no rest. My body had finally surrendered.
Ever since Father's death seven years ago, since I'd formally assumed the Alpha position, I hadn't truly rested.
Silver Moon Pack remained under siege from some phantom force—raids, sabotage, assassination attempts. They knew our tactics with eerie precision, anticipated my every deployment. Always striking our weakest points. Seven years fighting this invisible enemy, never catching their trail.
Exceptionally brutal. Exceptionally draining.
I reached for the whiskey on the coffee table, poured a glass, and drained it. The burn down my throat brought brief numbness.
Seven years.
Since that Full Moon night. Since Finn's death. Since Layla plunged into the sea. All those years had passed, yet I remembered every single day.
My gaze fell on the worn book beside me.
Something I carried everywhere, no matter where I went or how occupied. Old now, corners frayed, cover faded. But I preserved it with utmost care.
I set down the glass and picked up the book, fingers tracing the cover where crooked handwriting read:
"Layla Gray's diary."
Seven Years Ago.
"Search! Search every goddamn inch!" I stood at the cliff's edge, roaring at the rescue team below. "Comb the entire sea! I want her found—alive or dead!"
"Sir, with waves this violent, jumping from this height—the odds of her surviving are..." Evan, my second-in-command, shouted over the howling wind.
"I don't give a damn about odds!" I cut him off, eyes bloodshot, voice raw. "Find her! Now! Immediately!"
The search lasted a full week.
Every day, I stood at that precipice, watching boats traverse the waters below, watching divers descend again and again, resurface again and again empty-handed.
Nothing. No body, no shred of fabric. Nothing.
As if she'd never existed.
"Perhaps the current swept her away," Evan ventured carefully—he'd never seen me this unhinged. "Or something in the water..."
"Enough." Gold flashed in my eyes, a warning.
But I knew he might be right. Jumping from that height, the impact alone would shatter bones. Even if she somehow survived, in those savage waters, how long could a frail, grievously injured girl last?
A day?
An hour?
Not even a minute?
"Keep searching," I said, desperation edging my stubbornness. "Expand the radius another ten—"
"Mr. Kayden!" A voice that made my wolf snarl reflexively.
I drew a sharp breath, forced down the surge of fury. For as long as I could remember, that voice brought orders I had no choice but to obey. This time would be no different. Regarding my dear...
Father.
"The Alpha has issued a command." Duke, the pack's messenger, wore that flawless smile as always. "Cease the search. Layla Gray has been judged guilty and is now deceased. The case is closed. Do not squander pack resources further."
I nearly objected on instinct. No—too many unanswered questions remained. How could they simply declare her guilty—
"Mr. Kayden, one more thing. The Alpha insisted I place this directly in your hands."
Duke extended an envelope respectfully. The wax seal bore a howling silver wolf—majestic, the Blackwood crest. But now I found it blindingly harsh.
Evan stood beside me, offering a letter opener. I ignored it, tore the envelope open with barely restrained violence, pulled out that gold-embossed paper. Father's forceful script stared back.
"Remember what I told you, son."
I crushed the letter in my fist, nearly tearing it apart.
"Never repeat my mistakes."
"Stop the search," I said quietly, releasing the crumpled paper. To Evan.
I'd already made my choice. Rejected Layla before everyone. Denied the bond. Proved I wouldn't be ruled by instinct. Proved myself a worthy Alpha.
Now she was dead. This was the best outcome.
No entanglement. No weakness. No curse.
That was Father's message.
"Sir?"
"I said stop the search!" I roared, then turned from the cliff.
I didn't look back at that ocean that had swallowed her whole.
Because I feared that if I did, I'd jump in for her.
A week later, servants sorted through Layla's belongings and found two items.
A diary. And a man's coat.
"This coat..." the servant said, puzzled. "Doesn't appear to be Miss Gray's. Quite old, but well-maintained. We found it in her trunk, folded carefully, right on top."
I took the coat, unfolded it.
Deep gray wool, simple cut, visibly aged. The cuffs worn but meticulously mended. Freshly laundered, carrying a faint trace of rose essential oil.
It looked familiar...
I checked the interior lining, found a faded label bearing a tailor's name and serial number.
My heart stopped.
This was mine.
"There's also this." The servant handed over the diary. "Appears personal. Would you like to examine it?"
I accepted the diary, fingers trembling.
"Leave me," I said.
"But these belongings..."
"I'll handle them." I fought to maintain composure. My hands had already clenched into fists.
The servants exchanged glances but obeyed.
After they departed, I sat alone in my study, staring at that diary for a full hour.
I didn't dare open it.
Because I knew once I did, I might discover truths I couldn't bear.
But perhaps inside lay clues... proof she wasn't the killer, proof everyone had condemned her wrongly. Kayden, at least don't let her die with her name still blackened.
Slowly, I reached out, as if opening Pandora's box. Turned to the first page. Delicate handwriting met my eyes. My heart lurched violently.
No. This couldn't be real...
My breathing quickened, fingers barely able to hold the pages. I devoured every entry, turning page after page, desperate to find something—evidence that this was all some cruel joke.
But there was nothing. Nothing at all.
Everything was real. A girl's ten-year devotion laid bare. Layla Gray's chronicle of loving Kayden Blackwood.
My wolf whimpered in anguish, tearing at the fur on its own chest. Hating itself. Blaming itself.
Kayden, look what you've done.
Yes. Look what I'd done.
"Age fifteen, early spring. Today I saw light.
He saved me like a hero descending from heaven. I'm not afraid of death—for a hybrid like me, death would be release. But his hands were so warm. He bled for me. He gave me his coat. Now I think I don't want to die anymore."
"Today I glimpsed him training from afar. His wolf form is beautiful. I thought, if only someday I could be that strong."
"Sophia and her friends bullied me again, but I'm not sad. Because today he smiled in my direction. Even if he was smiling at someone else, I can pretend it was meant for me."
"I've washed and dried that coat again and again. But I can't bring myself to return it. It's the only precious thing I have in this world."
"I heard Mr. Kayden is going to Europe for five years. I'm heartbroken. But I'll wait for him. Five years is nothing—I can wait."
"Today, Mr. Kayden returns. I'm so nervous my heart might burst. I know I shouldn't fantasize, but I can't help hoping he'll look at me, even just once..."
The final entry, dated just before that Full Moon seven years ago:
"Tomorrow is the engagement ceremony. I'm finally marrying Kayden! I can hardly believe it—this must be a dream. I want to be the most beautiful bride. I want him to know how deeply I love him.
I made a bouquet myself. Not as fine as expensive arrangements, but it's from my heart. I hope he'll like it.
Kayden, if someday you read this diary, I want you to know: Thank you for saving me. Thank you for becoming my reason to live. Thank you for showing me what love is. From fifteen to twenty-five—I will love you forever."
Something warm dripped onto the pages, spreading into dark blots.
I touched my face, realized I was crying.
Kayden Blackwood, Alpha of Silver Moon Pack, a leader who never showed weakness—weeping like a child.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the diary, voice hoarse. "Layla... I'm so sorry."
Ten years ago, the pack borders suffered constant attacks from rogue wolves. During routine patrols, I'd rescued several young females gathering herbs, then ordered herb collection suspended. One girl was badly injured—I vaguely recalled giving her my coat for warmth, then forgot to retrieve it.
So that girl was her. That's why she had my coat. So she truly... loved me for ten years?
The realization wrung my heart like a vise.
Because before I saw this diary, she was already dead. Dead in that frigid ocean, carrying despair and heartbreak. Carrying ten years of love for me. Carrying that "I love you" I could never answer.
All of it—caused by my own hands.
The glass shattered in my grip. Shards pierced my palm, blood dripping between my fingers. I felt no pain. The suffocation in my chest eclipsed everything. I fought to breathe, clawing my way back from memory.
I opened the diary, pressed it against my face.