Chapter 2 · A Werewolf's Forever Promise

No one wanted to make the same mistake twice.

And yet, there I was, raising another werewolf cub.

At first, the boss of the underground beast fighting ring showed me a whole bunch of different beastmen.

But after scanning the lot again and again, none of them really stood out to me.

Annoyed, I was about to head out.

Just as I was about to turn the corner and leave the hallway, a bloodstained hand suddenly shot out from a cage in the shadows and grabbed my boot.

I tilted my head and glanced down.

I'd seen so many beasts teetering on the edge of death.

Most of them end up hysterical, numb and out of their minds, or just pathetically begging for their lives.

But to my surprise, this one was different.

In the midst of all that grime and blood, with shadows chilling the air, what caught my eye was a pair of defiant, piercing eyes.

He looked up at me and said, "I'll be your lapdog. Just let me stay."

I glanced at the cage tag: "Reject."

The boss, who'd been rambling beside me, went pale and started sweating bullets the moment he saw it.

I lifted my hand, stopping him from interfering.

I slipped off my black leather gloves and crouched down, slow and deliberate.

The underground fighting ring was always thick with the stink of rust and rot.

A single beam of light landed right on my fingertips.

I hooked a finger under his chin, lifting it, and gave him a long, hard look.

If he'd seen the whole way I picked out my candidates, he'd know just how picky I am.

And right now, he was barely hanging on, teetering on the edge of death.

His heart thumped uneasily in his chest, each beat betraying his nerves.

He could hear his own breathing, loud in the silence.

Those three minutes felt like an eternity.

But on my icy expression, he didn't catch a single flicker of emotion.

As the spark in his eyes began to fade, I suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Want to follow me?"

His wolf ears, which had been drooping, instantly perked up.

He wagged his tail like a puppy desperate for attention, his eyes blazing like sparks caught in a storm.

Nuzzling my wrist, he eagerly repeated, "Yes, I do."

Ready to follow me, to be my lapdog, to swear loyalty for a lifetime and never turn his back on me, not once?

Perfect. That was just what I liked to hear.

I shot a look at the boss, who looked scared out of his wits, and said flatly, "He's the one."

*****

I never intended to keep this little wolf around.

After all, he was just a reject.

No way he'd last through my grueling training.

Once his wounds had mostly healed, I looked at him and said, "You can leave now."

The wolf pup just froze, staring at me in confusion for what felt like ages before finally whispering, "Why?"

A flicker of emotion stirred in his wet eyes as he stared at me, unblinking.

I absently flipped through the newspaper, not even glancing his way. "No reason. Just call it charity."

Philip stepped forward and gently pulled him aside, lowering his voice. "Look, Miss Ashford only keeps the strongest and most loyal beastmen. You stand no chance.

"Your predecessor was shipped out in the middle of the night just for showing disloyalty. Served her ten years, and she didn't even blink."

He was still rambling when he realized the werewolf had slipped away.

A moment later, the young werewolf returned.

Still catching his breath, his voice rough, he asked, "What if I can do better than him?"

I finally looked up at him. "Better at what?"

He clenched his fists, his words sharp and deliberate. "Everything.

"Strength, loyalty, it didn't matter. I'd be better than the one Philip mentioned, no matter what it took."

I set the newspaper aside and gave him a cool, measured look.

The living room was big and flooded with light.

He stood there, tense and on edge, waiting for me to pass judgment.

When I brought him back that day, I didn't really notice his looks at all.

Now that he was cleaned up, I realized every part of him looked ready to pick a fight.

His brow bones were high and pronounced, and his eyes had a cutting edge to them.

But right now, those wet lashes took the edge off that wild look.

Those stubborn, clear eyes were exactly the same as the first time I saw him.

That was the real reason I took him in.

After a long stare, I finally spoke, "Fine, as long as you can handle it."

Chapter 2

No one wanted to make the same mistake twice.

And yet, there I was, raising another werewolf cub.

At first, the boss of the underground beast fighting ring showed me a whole bunch of different beastmen.

But after scanning the lot again and again, none of them really stood out to me.

Annoyed, I was about to head out.

Just as I was about to turn the corner and leave the hallway, a bloodstained hand suddenly shot out from a cage in the shadows and grabbed my boot.

I tilted my head and glanced down.

I'd seen so many beasts teetering on the edge of death.

Most of them end up hysterical, numb and out of their minds, or just pathetically begging for their lives.

But to my surprise, this one was different.

In the midst of all that grime and blood, with shadows chilling the air, what caught my eye was a pair of defiant, piercing eyes.

He looked up at me and said, "I'll be your lapdog. Just let me stay."

I glanced at the cage tag: "Reject."

The boss, who'd been rambling beside me, went pale and started sweating bullets the moment he saw it.

I lifted my hand, stopping him from interfering.

I slipped off my black leather gloves and crouched down, slow and deliberate.

The underground fighting ring was always thick with the stink of rust and rot.

A single beam of light landed right on my fingertips.

I hooked a finger under his chin, lifting it, and gave him a long, hard look.

If he'd seen the whole way I picked out my candidates, he'd know just how picky I am.

And right now, he was barely hanging on, teetering on the edge of death.

His heart thumped uneasily in his chest, each beat betraying his nerves.

He could hear his own breathing, loud in the silence.

Those three minutes felt like an eternity.

But on my icy expression, he didn't catch a single flicker of emotion.

As the spark in his eyes began to fade, I suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Want to follow me?"

His wolf ears, which had been drooping, instantly perked up.

He wagged his tail like a puppy desperate for attention, his eyes blazing like sparks caught in a storm.

Nuzzling my wrist, he eagerly repeated, "Yes, I do."

Ready to follow me, to be my lapdog, to swear loyalty for a lifetime and never turn his back on me, not once?

Perfect. That was just what I liked to hear.

I shot a look at the boss, who looked scared out of his wits, and said flatly, "He's the one."

*****

I never intended to keep this little wolf around.

After all, he was just a reject.

No way he'd last through my grueling training.

Once his wounds had mostly healed, I looked at him and said, "You can leave now."

The wolf pup just froze, staring at me in confusion for what felt like ages before finally whispering, "Why?"

A flicker of emotion stirred in his wet eyes as he stared at me, unblinking.

I absently flipped through the newspaper, not even glancing his way. "No reason. Just call it charity."

Philip stepped forward and gently pulled him aside, lowering his voice. "Look, Miss Ashford only keeps the strongest and most loyal beastmen. You stand no chance.

"Your predecessor was shipped out in the middle of the night just for showing disloyalty. Served her ten years, and she didn't even blink."

He was still rambling when he realized the werewolf had slipped away.

A moment later, the young werewolf returned.

Still catching his breath, his voice rough, he asked, "What if I can do better than him?"

I finally looked up at him. "Better at what?"

He clenched his fists, his words sharp and deliberate. "Everything.

"Strength, loyalty, it didn't matter. I'd be better than the one Philip mentioned, no matter what it took."

I set the newspaper aside and gave him a cool, measured look.

The living room was big and flooded with light.

He stood there, tense and on edge, waiting for me to pass judgment.

When I brought him back that day, I didn't really notice his looks at all.

Now that he was cleaned up, I realized every part of him looked ready to pick a fight.

His brow bones were high and pronounced, and his eyes had a cutting edge to them.

But right now, those wet lashes took the edge off that wild look.

Those stubborn, clear eyes were exactly the same as the first time I saw him.

That was the real reason I took him in.

After a long stare, I finally spoke, "Fine, as long as you can handle it."