Laylas 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.