Fists tighter, nails biting. "Zoe's 'rescues'? Open your eyes, Joseph—she's burning your stash on what?!"
Pups violated till their insides rot, lifelong bags and scars—monsters she "redeems" 'cause the moon gives second chances, or some rot.
Gambler wolves who beat their own to death, crippled mates for sport—she calls it "tough love," worth saving.
...
He barked a laugh, ice-cold. "Think I'd swallow your poison, Gina? On your knees—crawl to Zoe, beg forgiveness, every step a bow."
Those pics? Some trussed like hogs, others dangling mid-air—every soul battered, marked.
My stare glazed over, distant.
Friends... my pack...
"Don't make me—"
"I'll do it." Flat, numb, cutting him off.
Hospital steps crawled with eyes, all pinned on me—the scrawny she-wolf in baggy scrubs, barefoot and
