Where's Spot?

Find Him “Somebody has taken Eli.” … Olivia’s knees buckled. If not for Dean catching her, she would have hit the floor. Nothing was more torturous than the silence left behind by a missing child. Then the phone rang. Two weeks earlier… “Who is your mom?” Dean asked, wondering if he knew the woman. “Her name is Olivia Reed,” replied Eli. Dynamite just exploded in Dean’s head. The woman he once trusted, the woman who betrayed him, the woman he loved and the one he’d never been able to forget.  … Her betrayal had utterly broken him. *** Olivia - POV  She’d never believed until this moment that she could shoot and kill somebody, but she would have no hesitation if it meant saving her son’s life.  *** … he stood in her doorway, shafts of moonlight filling the room. His gaze found her sitting up in bed. “Olivia, what do you need?” he said softly. “Make love to me, just like you used to.” He’d been her only lover. She wanted to completely surrender to him and alleviate the pain and emptiness that threatened to drag her under. She needed… She wanted… Dean. She pulled her nightie over her head and tossed it across the room. In three long strides, he was next to her bed. Slipping between the sheets, leaving his boxers behind, he immediately drew her into his arms. She gasped at the fiery heat and exquisite joy of her naked skin against his. She nipped at his lips with her teeth. He groaned. Her hands explored and caressed the familiar contours of his muscled back. His sweet kisses kept coming. She murmured a low sound filled with desire, and he deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness and passion as his tongue explored her mouth… ***

At my lowest point that year, I took a job at a pet shop, where I was assigned to take care of a "gentle-tempered" silver-white Alaskan Malamute. Every time I went near him, he would lift his head and bury his nose against my chest, breathing in low, rough sounds that felt disturbingly like a grown man holding himself back. Especially when my hand brushed through his beautiful fur, his body would heat up, and his eyes would darken and burn with unmistakable possessiveness. Thinking he was sick, I rushed to find the shop owner. The owner gave me a long, meaningful glance. "He's not sick. But he only acts like this with you. "You need to bathe him, give him a full-body massage, and try giving him a little kiss. Otherwise, he might lose control." I had my doubts about the whole thing, but I didn't really have a choice. I went along with it anyway. Eventually, I told the friend who had gotten me this job everything that had been happening. After she heard me out, she went quiet for a second. Then, she looked at me strangely and said, "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not looking after a dog at all? What if he's actually a werewolf who can take human form, and he's in heat, using pheromones to mess with you because he wants to… You know, sleep with you?"

During a viral family mediation livestream, the notoriously difficult Dolores Bishop appeared on camera clutching her beloved toy poodle, Buddy, who was foaming at the mouth and suffering violent seizures every night. Convinced her daughter-in-law cursed the dog to death, Dolores demanded half a million dollars in emotional damages. The chat erupted with criticism, calling her a shameless bully trying to extort her own family. But after reviewing Buddy's test results, renowned veterinarian Dr. Alex Warren delivered a devastating diagnosis: irreversible neurological damage. The only humane option was euthanasia before the seizures became even more agonizing. Just as everyone accepts there's no hope, I heard Buddy's desperate voice. "Don't kill me! Please, Grandma, save me! I'm not sick! Every night that chubby three-year-old grandson uses me like a mop, dragging me across the floor after spilling peppermint oil everywhere. It burns so badly I can't stop convulsing!" My hand jerked, nearly shattering the teacup I'd just poured. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to Dolores. "Mrs. Bishop, is your grandson carrying a full bottle of peppermint oil in his pocket?"

My best friend gave me an orange cat named Marmalade as a birthday gift. But one night, the cat suddenly shook its head and sighed at me. "You look pretty, so how can you be this clueless? Your best friend and your boyfriend have been betraying you, and you didn't even notice." I thought I was hearing things. I took my resignation letter out of the drawer, planning to quit my job and travel the world with my best friend. "While you're busy quitting, Vivian is already preparing to replace you and become the new general manager. Your boyfriend's move is cold, no doubt. What a shame. Word is, your company's about to land a billion‑dollar investment. The future's looking pretty damn bright." I heard the cat's thoughts again. I stopped writing immediately and tore my resignation letter into pieces.

I was seven moons pregnant when I dozed off after the Moon Blessing ceremony. I woke to a flat belly. My pup was gone. My mate smiled gently, saying I’d never been carrying. The Seers said I was there for a routine cleansing. Even my mother pleaded with me, blaming my desperation for a child for causing vivid hallucinations. But the kicks had been real. I’d seen the tiny, curled form in the scrying basin myself. Everyone united behind the same lie, until the moment I fell from a rooftop and died. I opened my eyes, back at the day of the Blessing. This time, I will not sleep. I will document everything: pictures, recordings, witnesses. I will find out who stole my pup.

It was six years since I started dating Duke when I asked, "Shouldn't we prepare for the marking ceremony? It's almost July." Duke stiffened, lowering his eyes to avert his gaze. "You know I'm the Alpha of the Forest Pack, Fiona. And things have been busy with the pack, so I really don't have the time to think about it." "Okay." I smiled faintly—he really had forgotten about the promise. While I had been preparing for the ceremony for days, I had also anticipated disappointment. If he could forget about something so important, that only meant I didn't mean much in his heart. In that case, I should just leave.