Chapter 2

I didn’t sleep all night.

By morning, the house was so quiet it was like nothing had happened. Samuel scrubbed the kitchen, mopped the floor, even replaced the trash bag with a fresh one. He erased every trace, as if cleaning up after an accident.

I sat beside Bolt’s bed, my fingertips brushing the cushion that had already lost its warmth. My wolf curled up, like someone had ripped out its claws and left only the dull pain.

When Samuel got up that morning, he didn’t mention Bolt.

He buttoned his shirt like he always did, poured himself coffee in the kitchen, and even kept his voice as steady as he could.

He slid a shopping list in front of me.

“Lucas likes strawberries,” he said. “And apple pie. Go buy some. He just got to a new home. He needs time to adjust.”

I looked up at him, but my mind was still stuck in that bowl of soup from last night.

“What did you say?” My voice came out light, weightless, like I didn’t have any strength.

Samuel stared at me as if checking whether I was listening. His tone was impatient, but also like he was forcing himself to keep it down.

“His name is Lucas,” he repeated. “You can’t let him go hungry.”

I pushed the list back. “I’m not going.”

Samuel’s expression sank, the pressure of righteousness settling over his face.

“I know you’re sad,” he said. “But Lucas is just a kid. He has no one.”

“We’re mates,” he added, looking straight at me. “Can’t you be a little more understanding? Don’t let a dog affect our relationship, and don’t make Lucas suffer either.”

He paused, like he was using the word “our” as a rope to tie me down.

“You killed my dog!” I finally raised my voice, the emotion ripping open like a wound. “And now you want me to take care of some pup who came out of nowhere?”

Samuel’s brows drew together, tired like he’d been pushed too far. He sighed, walked over, and brushed my hair back.

The gesture was gentle.

The tone wasn’t.

“I know I was wrong,” he said. “But things just happened.”

“We agreed to be childfree, but Lucas is here now. We can’t just abandon him. Just... do it for me. Don’t make things ugly, okay?”

I stared at him and realized he’d already regarded this series of things as something I was supposed to swallow, not something he was supposed to pay for.

There was nothing left in me but numbness.

At noon, I still went into the kitchen.

There was a pup in the house who needed to be fed. I couldn’t howl like an injured wolf. All I could do was to cook, like I was maintaining some forced version of “family order.”

Lucas sat at the table, swinging his legs.

I set the plate down. He took one look and shoved the dish away.

“I don’t want this,” he said, voice spoiled and picky. “I want Emma’s food.”

My fingers froze.

Samuel stepped in immediately, like he’d been ready for this. He smiled to smooth it over, half coaxing the child, half handing me a way to step down.

“He’s not used to you yet,” Samuel said. “Emma’s the friend who brought him here. He’s familiar with her. Give him more time, he’ll get used to you.”

I lifted my head. “A friend?”

Something flickered in Samuel’s eyes.

He didn’t explain. He only pulled Lucas into his arms and wiped the grease from the corner of the boy’s mouth, the motion was so proficient like he’d done it a thousand times.

That kind of proficiency made my heart tighten.

After lunch, I cleaned up the table while Lucas drew on the carpet. A sheet of paper slid onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up, and the moment my fingertips touched it, my whole body went rigid.

There were three people on the page.

A man who looked just like Samuel.

A woman with long hair, smiling softly.

And a pup standing between them.

The most glaring thing was the title scrawled across the top.

My Home.

I stood there, like someone had a hand clenched around my throat. My wolf slowly lifted its head, ears pricking up like it had finally locked onto the real danger.

I carried the drawing to Samuel.

“What is this?” I asked. My voice was steady, controlled.

He glanced at it, and his face changed immediately.

He snatched the paper, too fast, like he was afraid I’d see more. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

“Kids scribble nonsense,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”

I didn’t move.

Because I had seen it all.

On the man’s wrist in that drawing, there was a werewolf totem tattoo exactly like the one on Samuel’s wrist.

That wasn’t a detail a child could “scribble.” It was a mark that came with wolf bloodline. It couldn’t be faked.

Samuel avoided my eyes, like he’d finally realized he’d slipped up.

His voice dropped lower, carrying a warning.

“Stop staring at things like that,” he said. “Steady your heart.”

I looked at the crumpled ball of paper in the trash and tasted bitterness in my throat.

Bolt was dead. I was being forced to cook for Lucas.

And in the home this child drew, I was never there.