Chapter 617

Steve steadied me as I took a shaky step forward. We reached the door just as someone walked out, cradling a small black box in their arms. Their face was etched with grief, and I froze. My breath caught in my throat. My gaze locked on that box.

Steve’s grip on my hand tightened, grounding me, keeping me from falling apart then and there. He guided me inside. And that’s when I saw her.

Yara stood in the middle of the room, her back to us. She was stiff, unmoving, her entire frame radiating a despair that mirrored the storm inside me. I stopped dead. My legs refused to move. Steve froze beside me. Neither of us said a word.

Yara must have sensed us, because she turned slowly. Her hands cradled the same black box, and the sight of it sent everything spinning. My vision blurred; my knees buckled.

She walked toward me. “This is what Hayden wanted. He said for you to take him back. To bury him in that place you both loved.”

I stared at the box, but I wasn’t really seeing it. My mind drifted to that place. I could almost hear his voice, almost feel his hand in mine. He’d broken his promise. He swore he’d stay. And now, he wanted me to bury him there? Was this his final act? To make me suffer even now?

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” The words slipped out. I couldn’t accept it. The person who had held me just hours ago was now reduced to this—this small, cold box.

“He didn’t want you to face that cruel moment,” Yara said quietly. I stared at her blank face—no tears, no emotion.

“Hayden broke up with you to protect you,” she continued, her gaze dropping to the box in her hands. “He was afraid that if you ever had to face this, you’d hate him. He thought it might hurt a little less this way.”

“He knew this day would come?” My voice cracked.

“When he stepped back onto Houston, he knew,” Yara replied. Her words were ice in my veins. He’d come back because of Steve’s mess. Because of me.

Jace had said it was all part of a conspiracy. And now, it all clicked. Hayden had known the truth—known it was a trap. But he still walked straight into it. And for what? For me?

No. I couldn’t believe that; I wouldn’t. I wasn’t the reason. I was just the bait. And Steve…he’d been pulled into it, too.

My mind raced, clawing for fragments of Hayden’s last words. His warning: “Don’t go to the Johnstons.” What did he mean? The urgency in his voice wasn’t random. He’d known something—something about Wayne Johnston?

A chill ran through me as Wayne’s diary flashed in my mind. The secrets, the lies, the plans… It all pointed back to him. If Wayne had orchestrated this, he wasn’t just cruel—he was a monster. I would make him pay for this. But no matter what I did, it wouldn’t bring Hayden back.

My eyes locked on the black box again—Hayden—tall, strong, alive—reduced to this. The blade twisting deeper into my chest. I hated it. All of it. I couldn’t accept it. But I was helpless.

“Why didn’t you stop him? You knew he was in danger!” I snapped, my grief and fury exploding at Yara.

“If I could have stopped him, he wouldn’t have loved you.” Her words slammed into me, and I hated how much they made sense. She had loved Hayden. But he had only ever loved me. And his love for me had killed him.

“Hayden… let’s go home,” I whispered, taking the black box from her hands. The moment I held it, the weight hit me—not heavy, but unbearable, like the world was caving in around me.