Chapter 1

By the time I got home, Samuel had already set the dinner.

Dessert sat right where my hand always reached first, and even the soda water I usually drank had been popped open for me.

Under the warm yellow light, the house looked almost too clean, like someone had deliberately wiped away something and left only the vibe of “waiting for you to come back.”

Samuel sat at the dining table, back ramrod straight, but his eyes were bloodshot.

When he saw me, he only said one thing: “You’re back. Eat something.”

I sat down across from him and didn’t answer.

We’d been in a cold war for one week. The reason was simple: he’d been the one to persuade me to stay childfree.

At our bonding ceremony, he’d held my hand and said, “No kids. I only want you.”

But a week ago, he’d come home carrying a pup, saying a friend had gotten into trouble and the pup had been left alone, so we were supposed to foster him for a while.

I’d asked him, “Then what was our childfree agreement supposed to mean?”

“This isn’t the time to talk about that.” He looked at me. “He’s a child.”

From that day on, he’d turned cold with me, and I stopped asking.

Now he’d laid out a full dinner like nothing had happened.

I stared at him for a second, then still took two sips of soup.

Something was off. It tasted like a meat soup, but there was a strange metallic smell underneath it.

Samuel kept watching me.

His gaze was tight, nervous, like I wasn’t eating dinner but was making a decision for him.

I set the spoon down, and a thought hit me like a brick.

Bolt wasn’t here.

I swept my eyes across the living room. The dog bed was still in its usual spot. The water bowl was full. The toys had been washed clean. The collar hung neatly where it always did.

Everything was here.

Except the dog.

My chest sank. “Where’s Bolt?”

Samuel stopped eating. He looked up at me, his throat bobbing.

“You’re drinking him,” he said.

I went still. “What?”

His eyes dropped to the bowl. His voice came out rough and low. “It’s dog meat.”

He paused, like he was forcing himself to stab the knife to the bottom. “It’s Bolt.”

It felt like someone snapped my neck. I shot to my feet and the chair screeched across the floor, then I ran into the bathroom to retch.

My stomach rolled like a storm, but nothing came up. All I got was a burning throat and the taste of bile.

I slapped cold water onto my face until I could stand straight, but my hands shook like they didn’t belong to me.

Footsteps stopped at the doorway. Samuel had followed me, leaning against the frame, not stepping inside.

“I knew you’d react like this,” he said. “But I don’t regret it.”

I lifted my head and stared at myself in the mirror, my face drained white.

“It was just a dog,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I know.” His voice was extremely calm. “But these seven days you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, he stood by the door every single day.”

Like he was being dragged back to each night of that week, his voice tightened inch by inch. “He kept barking. Like he was calling you home.”

“A spirit dog can understand people, and it can sense what’s between mates.” A suppressed, hoarse sound rolled out of his throat. “Julia... he knew you were leaving me.”

At that moment, my wolf stirred under my skin.

Samuel braced a hand on the doorframe. His knuckles went white, and in the moment his emotions slipped, his nails lengthened slightly.

“The more he barked, the more I worried you weren’t coming back,” he said. “I’d stand at the door, looking at him, and all I could think was—have you already decided you don’t want this home anymore?”

I stared at him. “Bolt never hurt anyone.”

Samuel lunged a step forward and grabbed my wrist. His palm was heat. His grip was hard enough to grind my bone.

“He bared his teeth at that pup.” Samuel’s breathing turned heavy. “He could sense danger.”

“I was afraid he’d hurt the pup,” he said, then his eyes turned sharper, more extreme, like the true face underneath finally showed itself. “And I was even more afraid you’d leave me for good because of that pup.”

“When a wolf is terrified of losing his mate, he’ll surly do extreme things.” He growled the words. “I couldn’t control my instincts. If it meant you’d stay, I’d take your hatred.”

I yanked free, stumbling backward.

And that was when I saw the couch.

The little pup Samuel “taking in for a while” was sitting right there. He was holding Bolt’s collar, looking up at me.

His eyes were almost identical to Samuel’s—too direct, too possessive.

There was still a smear of grease at the corner of his mouth from the meat soup.

Ice spread through my veins, and my wolf let out a low, restrained hiss.

At that moment, I understood—Bolt hadn’t been an accident.

He’d just been Samuel’s first choice, made in the second he was afraid of losing me.

And even my breakdown felt like something he’d already arranged.

There was nowhere for me to run.