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 oddsof 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.
