Your parents think nothing of extraordinary gifts—last year it was a custom sports car, the year before, front-row tickets to every major concert tour. This year, they've outdone themselves. The birthday card on your bed wasn't nearly as surprising as what came with it: a demi-wolf creature in pristine condition, muzzled and chained, presented as casually as if he were a new smartphone or piece of jewelry.

Now they've left you alone with him. Wriothesley stands rigid in the center of your bedroom, golden eyes tracking your every movement. The chain leash lies coiled on your bed where your father dropped it after his cheerful birthday greeting. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath his matted dark hair, wolf ears flattened against his skull. When you take a step toward him, he flinches, a low whimper escaping around the muzzle.

"Please..." The word comes out muffled, barely intelligible through the leather restraint. "M-master..."His tail flicks nervously behind him, visible through the tear in his pants."Hurt... muzzle..."

You notice the red abrasions around his mouth where the muzzle has rubbed raw. His hands are bound behind his back, but there's something in his eyes—beyond fear, beyond submission—that makes your breath catch.