Layla's Destined Lover

Layla happily looked at the man sitting across from her, the one soon to become her life partner and step into the remaining journey of life with her.

"Layla, you are beautiful."

Leon, her destined partner, looked at her with a mesmerizing gaze, uttering the compliment from the depth of his heart. That whispered sentence made the successor queen of wolves shyly bow her head, too embarrassed to let him see her flushed face.

Today is a special day for the Western wolf tribe, the wedding day of wolf queen Layla. Below the tree platform where Layla and Leon stand are several hundred wolf tribe members from the West. They cheer and celebrate the marriage ceremony of the Western tribe leader.

The excited sounds urge the powerful couple to drink deer blood from a cup, like humanity's wine toasting ritual. Here, this marrying pair doesn't need anyone to officiate their wedding, for they are already the king and queen of this Western land. All they need is the witness of their tribe members.

Layla wears a white fox fur cloak, her ripe red lips smiling happily as she lifts the golden cup filled with deer blood. She looks towards Leon, her eyes eagerly waiting for him to pick up the other cup, showing her eagerness to complete the ritual and enter her bridal chamber soon.

She is a wolf born from the pinnacle of glory, her fighting instinct and the drive to perpetuate her lineage urging her to fulfill her duty quickly.

She needs to produce an heir before the age of twenty-five.

That is a deep secret related to Layla's bloodline, known only to her and her parents. Even Leon has never heard of it.

Layla thinks it's fine that he doesn't know. After all, she is about to accomplish it. No more bad things will happen after that.

The moment Leon picks up the other golden cup, she smiles contentedly at him.

Both drain the cups of blood in their hands.

Layla feels the warm blood coursing through her veins. She tenderly looks at her husband and then turns to face her tribe members below. She wants to thank everyone for helping her organize this ceremony. But, she can't speak.

Yes, the moment Layla opens her mouth to speak, her body suddenly heats up, her eyes turn a deep black, devoid of any white. Her whole body and thoughts go out of control.

She knows this condition well.

This is the reaction she has during her berserk episodes.

But these outbursts only happen once a year unless she mistakenly drinks human blood.

Layla feels attacked, her body aching as if she's continuously being wounded. And the last thing she sees before closing her eyes is the victorious smile of the husband who just drank from the same cup of blood with her.

She was tricked by him.

...

"Wake up!"

Following the piercing scream is a chilling sensation that jolts Layla awake. Her eyes are heavy, blurring her vision. However, the voices that follow help Layla recognize who is facing her, even though her eyes can no longer clearly see everything around her.

"Look at this, look at this! Who would have thought that the daughter of that damn Baron would kneel before me like this! Ha ha ha!"

Baron is Layla's surname, but the wolves of the Western tribe are close to her, often addressing her by her first name. Baron is a title usually reserved for her father, the former tribal chief of the West.

This booming voice she knows well, it must be Phelan Roger. A childhood friend of her father, who had once fought side by side with her father to expand the Western territories.

"Old Phelan, your drug is sure not to cause any problems, right?"

That raspy and disgusting voice she knows all too well. This is Thomas Valerie, the captain of the first squad responsible for the tribe's security. He's also a childhood friend who fought passionately alongside her father.

All these introductions are narrated by Layla's father, her memories vivid with his nostalgic and proud face about his dear friends.

However, it seems all to be her father's imagination. Because the mocking and gleeful tone directed at this friend's daughter isn't the tone that close friends should have.

Perhaps her father, the former tribal chief Baron, was too naïve in his relationships and never saw their true colors. Or maybe they hid it so well that even the sharp eyes of a skilled and strategic warrior like Baron couldn't see through them.

Layla tries to lift her heavy eyes to get a clear look at the traitors casually discussing in front of her. But the blood trickling down into her eyes makes her already unclear vision blur even more. Whether by luck or misfortune, one of them is always paying attention to her condition, for soon after, a clear voice rings out.

"Father, Uncle Thomas, Brother Leon. Don't just chat like that. Our chieftain is awake."

"My love, don't call her the chieftain anymore. I am the chieftain now."

No need to ask much. Layla could already guess the whole story. The woman drawing everyone's attention to her was none other than Anna Adela, the beloved daughter of old Phelan. And the Leon she referred to was none other than the man who had just married her.

For some reason, they knew about her berserk episodes and deliberately switched the deer blood in her golden cup with human blood, aiming to trigger her madness in front of everyone. The wolf tribe has a rule; as a chieftain, one must absolutely control one's instincts.

Because the duty of a chieftain is to protect and be the pillar for their people. Once a chieftain is controlled by their instincts, it can bring unpredictable consequences to the tribe members. Not to mention a chieftain who suffers from berserk disease, easily controlled by the bloodlust within, causing wanton slaughter.

All this, just to drive her from her position as chieftain, and in the end, those scoundrels would seize everything the Baron lineage had built with great hardship. The Western wolf tribe, founded and established by the blood and sweat of Layla's ancestors, was now being destroyed by someone as sick as her.

Layla, you are a sinner.

Thinking this, she smirked bitterly.

All her life she was born a winner, yet her first defeat destroyed the entire Baron legacy.

Layla felt every joint in her arms and legs transmitting powerlessness and pain. Clearly, they had shattered her limbs. They wanted to kill her in the most brutal way. A tide of hatred was rising within her.

Layla hated the ungrateful, betraying crowd.

She hated the man who deceived her feelings.

She even hated herself for being foolishly naive to be deceived so simply.

This outrage of hers was like a powerful stream of air, helping her gather the last bit of strength to clearly see the scum before her, to keep her final dignity and not bow to any filthy power. She gritted out each word to the wolves in front of her.

"I... will definitely... kill you all!"

Her voice was hoarse from not eating or drinking for days, but this sound inadvertently made the wolves facing her shiver.

The majesty of a battle-ready chieftain is not simple.

Unlike the men who had been through fierce hunts, Anna was just a pampered, delicate she-wolf, who stepped back a few paces behind her beloved. Her eyes flashed with jealousy and malice, she said, "My love, break the former chieftain's fangs. Let's see how long she keeps up her act!"

Leon, awakened by his lover's words, thought Anna was right. Wolves use their claws and fangs as weapons; if he broke her fangs and pulled out her claws, even if she wanted revenge, she wouldn't have the strength.

Leon turned to look at his elders, wanting to know their opinion.

Old Phelan smirked, saying slowly, "Just don't kill her. We still need this kid to provide the location to get the Baron tribe's treasure."

Hearing about the Baron tribe's treasure, Layla bit her cracked, bloody lips. So, it wasn't just greed for the chieftain's seat; they were after her family's treasure.

The first chieftain of the Baron tribe had luck in seizing a treasure that could increase one's strength a hundred thousand times and was also used to grant a wish by the wolf king, a legendary figure no one had the chance to meet.

Not to mention the wish, just the sight of it could enhance strength, making it a treasure of the wolf tribe. After all, wolves love to fight and hunt, expanding their territories. For wolves, strength is everything.

It was thanks to this treasure that her Baron tribe had been able to maintain the chieftain's position in the West for so long, with no one daring to harbor thoughts of betrayal.

That's called absolute suppressive power.

But everything had changed now. Layla glared at the people slowly approaching, as they began to pry her mouth open. That bastard Leon smirked at her:

"Former chieftain, don't worry. It'll be over quickly."

Then came the extreme pain that surged to Layla's brain.

"Aaahhh!!!"

Layla is the only daughter of her father, and from a young age, she was raised to be a strong warrior. Therefore, her presence is felt in any battles of the Western tribe.

A powerful, alluring, and determined she-wolf, that's how everyone acknowledges her. Moreover, Layla possesses a beautifully crafted face, with glossy black hair tied neatly behind her, and a set of animal-skin armor that makes her a dazzling hero admired by all.

Certainly, no one would have expected such a noble wolf, like an angel from above, to end up in such a filthy state.

Layla leans against the wall, her once bright blue eyes now soulless. Her beautiful hair is now crudely cut and sticky with blood. The lush red lips that once invited kisses are now dry and cracked. The charming face that attracted so many looks is now bruised and dirty.

Her entire being emits a foul, putrid odor.

How long have they kept her captive?

She doesn't know anymore. In this dark and damp place, sunlight is a luxury.

Layla stares blankly at her hands.

Her once strong hands, which tore apart her prey, are now broken and clawless. She feels the lack of her sharp teeth, and she tries to open her mouth to say something, but the pain from the unhealed wounds makes her recoil.

Those damn creatures not only broke her fangs and claws but also cut off her tongue.

Layla hates.

She hates the traitors.

She hates herself for being now like a broken doll, lacking even the strength for revenge.

Her lifeless gaze drifts to her little finger, where a wooden ring given by the betrayer is worn. Layla angrily grabs the chain binding one of her arms. She uses her head to violently pull it, causing the arm with the ring to move. It's pulled up, then thrown down. Layla repeats this action, as if trying to vent her hatred, paying no attention to her mouth gradually filling with thick, viscous fluid or the pain from the chain hitting her head against the wall, causing it to bleed.

Layla knows what she's doing is meaningless. But she just wants to release the hatred within her, even though the more she does, the more she looks like a puppet with a broken string desperately holding onto her thread of fate.

The most unbearable thing is the waiting. The echoing footsteps of two people break the silence in the dark.

Layla immediately stops her foolish actions. She can't give those people the opportunity to humiliate her even more.

In anticipation, the figures of a man and a woman gradually appear. It's Leon and Anna.

As soon as they see her, those despicable men and women laugh as if watching an interesting play. The lascivious she-wolf holds Leon's hand, her voice, sweet as if devoid of any backbone, sends shivers through every cell of Layla: "My love, why has the most beautiful beauty of the Western tribe become like this?"

Anna's innocent face wrinkles, as if the question asked is something she has suspected for a long time, incomprehensible.

The treacherous man seems to enjoy Anna's disgusting appearance. He laughs brightly, his doting face responding to the words of the she-wolf beside him. "Because she's foolish and useless."

The gentle tone of that statement makes Layla's heart ache. Once, Leon was just a wolf abandoned by his family, left outside the edge of the forest. She and her father brought him home, took him to Phelan's house for treatment, as he was the healer of their wolf tribe. She taught him hunting tricks, how to fight with everything he had.

Leon glanced at her and said with resentment, "A perpetrator seizing what doesn't belong to him. It's just karma!"

At that time, he was predicted to be her mate. Layla had some affection for the useless guy she taught and took in. But she was also a future tribal leader with mature thoughts. She made it clear to him that as long as Leon didn't want it, she was willing to cut off her own gland, an organ that wolves use to create offspring together. It releases hormones that attract each other, increasing the reproductive rate. But Leon said he was willing to do it for love.

Now, she's the one forcing him to become her mate.

She is indeed blind to value this garbage relationship of vengeance and gratitude!

"Ah, ah, ah. Ah, ah, ah!"

Layla is furious, wanting to curse at them. However, the sound that comes out of her is just syllables.

Because she no longer has a tongue.

Anna, upon witnessing this scene, gracefully covers her mouth, her sarcastic tone fueling Layla's growing resentment. "Layla, don't bother talking; no one understands anyway."

After saying that, Anna approaches, her smooth, white hand touching Layla's chin. Her detestable voice becomes low, "A hybrid like you should only bark like a mutt and live in a dirty swamp."

Immediately, Layla uses her restrained arm to wrap around Anna's neck, then uses all her remaining strength to pull the disgusting she-wolf down to the filthy floor.

Even though Layla has lost much of her strength, it's not the turn for a pampered creature, living in comfort, to bully her!

However, having been tortured for an unknown duration, Layla's strength and reflexes have diminished. So, before she could strike the garbage under the floor, she was hit by a powerful force against the wall.

The strong impact causes Layla to endure additional injuries, spitting out another mouthful of blood.

Her buzzing mind can barely hear the angry shouts to the point where she might lose her hearing.

"Damn it! How dare you hit Anna!"

Ha. Too touching. He standing up as a hero to save the beauty for the sake of love. Layla smirks, contemptuously spitting a blood-stained saliva at his feet.

Seemingly, this action seriously irritates Leon. He has shed all semblance of calmness, the former tenderness, to become a wild beast relying on violence.

He relentlessly delivers powerful blows to her head, her body, every inch of her flesh.

Does Layla feel pain?

Yes, she does.

But she doesn't cry, she doesn't moan, not a sound. Instead, she laughs. Layla's laughter blends with Leon's furious curses. All these sounds merge into a dissonant symphony in the dark prison.

The ultimate despair is the echo of laughter.

...

After that violent visit to the brutal prison, the frequency of Layla's beatings and tortures increases, while her moments of consciousness decrease.

Layla still tries to endure, waiting for a chance to escape.

"SHIT!"

Due to her increasingly blurry consciousness, she often hits herself. Because she knows that only pain can keep her alert. Layla doesn't hope to wait for an opportunity and then find herself unable to open her eyes. However, this action is like drinking poison to quench her thirst. She can't sustain this state for much longer.

Clumsy footsteps!

The sound of footsteps entering once again urges Layla to heighten her alertness; she needs to be vigilant.

In the cold darkness, the figure of a man gradually appears, accompanied by an aura of danger. It's Leon.

Today, this man doesn't seem normal. Layla tightens her body, hoping she can resist the cruel whip strikes in time, so it can't harm her vulnerable spots. This is also the reason she has survived until now.

Leon's face is stern, his brown eyes staring directly at her. Just as Layla thinks he's about to throw a powerful punch, she is caught off guard as Leon slowly sits down, gripping her chin and grinding his teeth, saying, "Do you feel privileged?"

Layla furrows her brows, looking at the man in front of her, every muscle in her body tense with caution.

He seems not to need her answer. His other strong, rugged hand quickly seizes her tail. This action startles Layla!

Although her tribe has trained her tail, so it's no longer a deadly weakness in combat. Suddenly being grabbed like this is still not good.

She narrows her eyes, her gaze filled with the intention to kill the demon wolf in front of her.

Leon cruelly laughs, leaning close to her ear, his voice full of disdain, "You are worthless now. Die!"

Layla is shocked by the sudden words; she hasn't had a chance to avoid this suddenly insane man. Before she could react, a powerful force strikes her against the wall.

The intense shock makes Layla endure more injuries, and once again, she spits out a mouthful of blood.

The man laughs loudly, holding a dirty, blood-stained tail in his hand, his face gleefully watching every expression on her face. He says, "Phelan has found Baron's treasure. You can die now!"

Then he pulls out the wooden stick by his side, thrusting it forcefully into her chest.

Layla can't resist the entire process, the tearing pain ripping through her body, every sense in her freezing. She can feel her meager blood being drained slowly. A drowsiness slowly creeps in.

Before her eyes close completely, Layla looks at her murderer, who is going mad with satisfaction, and she wants to laugh again.

Numbness.

Layla suspected that she had died.

She always felt her body floating weightlessly, neither in pain nor comfort. The emotion hovered ominously.

She wanted to move her limbs, to open her eyes and see what the afterlife was like. But everything was in vain.

Or was it because her sins were too great, and this was her punishment? To exist in this vague void.

Ah, this is truly a cruel punishment.

Layla chuckled at herself, thinking that if given another chance, the first thing she would do is to eliminate those wretched scum. Make them disappear from this world completely!

But she knew it was just a fantasy.

Ah!!! So cold?!

Suddenly, a chilling sensation attacked Layla's mind, a relentless cold that made her feel extreme pain. At this moment, she couldn't understand why she was already dead and still had to endure such agony! Did she commit some heinous act that warranted such punishment from the heavens???

Layla was both resentful and angry at the injustice that the divine had imposed on her. However, the piercing cold pain struck again, causing her to gradually lose consciousness.

...

"Where did this wolf come from?"

While Layla was in a daze, an old voice echoed, unfamiliar and not belonging to anyone from the Western tribe.

Whose voice is this? Layla wanted to open her eyes to see who was speaking, whether it was a god or a demon from hell. However, she couldn't do anything; she could only sense herself being handled like a cheap commodity about to be discarded.

"What are you doing?"

The once violently grabbed body suddenly froze, and a stuttering voice above her head said, "Le-leader!"

Immediately after, Layla felt herself being pulled down and squeezed, experiencing a dull pain that was gradually intensifying.

"What are you hiding?"

The stern voice posed a second question.

Layla felt the part of her body being held tighten even more, and the gripping hand trembled. She was truly curious about the current situation. But her mind didn't stay clear for long, and she began to feel the drowsiness creeping in.

Once again, she fell into unconsciousness.

...

Regaining consciousness once more, Layla could open her eyes this time. However, her body still felt heavy and powerless, so she could do nothing but open her eyes.

Her hazy blue gaze swept from left to right, observing the surroundings that seemed both strange and familiar.

Strange because she had never been here. Familiar because it resembled a wolf's den, not like the paradise or hell in her thoughts.

Could it be... she was still alive?

Ah, that's right.

Layla suddenly remembered something. Perhaps she was indeed still alive because the Baron tribe's treasure always protected her.

This was the reason she scolded Leon as a fool, as the treasure was always with her.

According to Baron's tradition, when a new tribe leader took office, the former leader had to pass on the treasure to the successor for protection. So, at the age of eighteen, she received the treasure and kept it with her. It was a discreet ceremony known only to her and her father.

What they took from her was just a decoy she had set up to deceive outsiders.

Thinking about the scene where those fools used the fake treasure and were disappointed, the satisfaction of revenge made her want to burst into laughter. However, due to her body's condition, even smiling was challenging. Layla frowned, the pain in her body reminding her of every bit of her resentment. Even if they regretted their actions, she wouldn't spare them!

The Baron tribe believed in repaying a hundredfold for any grievances.

That was the saying passed down to all the people in the Baron tribe.

Injured body? No problem. As long as she didn't die, she would come back and retaliate for everything they had done to her at any cost!

Layla's deep blue eyes gradually became sharper. If her allies were here, they might tremble in fear. This was Layla's most malicious expression, and it would undoubtedly result in bloodshed and death everywhere.

However, here, there were no allies, and with her battered blaughterody, her threatening expression became ironically comical. Indeed, someone burst into beside her, saying, "Ha ha, a wolf with the expression of a house-trained dog?"

The sudden voice jolted Layla from her reverie. She turned to look behind her.

"Ah!" Unfortunately, due to severe injuries, the swift movement caused her body to ache as if a hundred thousand enemy claws were tearing her apart.

She felt like passing out once again.

"Foolish." A cold and helpless voice echoed, a large hand covering her head. The sensation of weakness as someone else took control made Layla uncomfortable, and she wanted to resist. But with her feeble strength, what could she do against a giant?

She growled, her whole body seeming to contract, trying to appear defensively even though she was weak.

"Still very vigilant, huh?" The mocking voice made Layla notice the person in front of her.

Before her was a large man, with eyes sparkling like rare gemstones, disheveled silver hair giving him a wild appearance, and sun-kissed skin that was unusually beautiful. A handsome face with rugged features.

He was the most attractive man she had ever met.

Looking back, she thought Leon was a handsome wolf, but now she realized she was mistaken. Leon couldn't compare to even one of this man's toes.

Layla suddenly felt sorry for Anna, thinking about her proud face, as if she had won the most precious thing in the world. Layla guessed that if she met this man, she might wag her tail like a female wolf in heat and eagerly offer herself as a bedmate.

The attractive man felt amused seeing a normal wolf constantly changing expressions. He playfully lifted her with a forceful hand, making the wolf move along with his arm's motion. It was like playing with a stuffed toy, something that humans enjoyed. Fun!

"Grrr!" Layla was moved, her face stunned, and she growled to warn the man to stop. She knew she had an impressive wolf form-tall, majestic, with a shimmering fur under the moonlight-many in the tribe admired her.

However, her actions didn't instill any fear in the man. On the contrary, he laughed even louder. He pulled her closer to his face, speaking casually, "Remember, I'm Bridget. Your master"

Layla:...

Although I currently have a wolf's body, I am also the leader of the Western tribe! What are you to think of owning me???

However, her objections could only be expressed in animal-like sounds. No one understood what she was saying!

Bridget: I know you like that!

Layla: howl howl!

I don't! I don't like it! Don't falsely accuse me!

Perhaps because it was the first time she had ever met such a powerful and charming man, Layla momentarily forgot her resistance.

His intense golden gaze involuntarily drew she in.

A lingering feeling, like a spider's silk, slowly wrapped around her.

This feeling was truly special.

Bridget noticed the bandage around the bleeding wound on the little wolf's chest. He spoke calmly, "Clara! Change the bandage."

Layla, still not understanding what he was saying, was surprised when a woman came in, bowed to Bridget, and then took her away. Her cold face and short silver hair made her sound obedient, saying, "Yes, Leader."

Next, Layla panicked as she was taken away by the woman. Her eyes glanced back at Bridget as if a newborn creature was being taken away from its mother's embrace.

"Damn it!" Bridget's imagination gave him chills. Mother? Forget it! He was the leader of this tribe, the strongest warrior in the East. Never would he become a nanny for a wolf cub!

He remembered the moment he saw the little wolf covered in wounds; his heart seemed to skip a beat. An invisible force compelled him to save the little wolf. So he carried her to his den and sought someone to treat her. Regardless of the doctor's sighs that it was just a normal injured wolf about to reach the threshold of death, he, Bridget, a crazy person who did as he pleased, paid no attention.

Funny. Everything in the tribe was obtained by his hand. If he had to spend something to compensate for saving a wolf cub, he would earn more. As for the complaints of the old leaders who were afraid of death and spent their days hiding in the cave, well, let them talk.

"Foolish mouths." His golden eyes became even more intense. He wanted to kill them, but it wasn't the right time.

"Bark! Bark! Bark!"

The desperate cries cut through Bridget's thoughts. He got up and ran to the source of the noise. Could it be that the wolf cub was in trouble right after leaving him? Worry overwhelmed his mind.

But when he arrived, he was surprised to see his wolf cub lying flat and covering her face. In front of her was a rudimentary pair of glasses.

If he could read the thoughts of the wolf cub, he would probably sigh at his unnecessary concern.

Because the heartbreaking howl of the wolf cub meant:

"Oh, God! Why am I so small now!!!"