My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 09

My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 09

By the third litter, Wynn had stopped making any sound at all.

She lay unmoving in the cage, her eyes hollow, saliva dribbling from her slack jaw.

Mason suspected severe brain damage—or a complete mental collapse.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked.

“Keep going.”

Fourth litter.

Fifth litter.

Sixth litter.

The intervals between each breeding grew shorter, and every batch yielded more stillborn pups than the last.

By the seventh litter, Wynn had lost all desire to eat. Mason kept her barely alive with nutrient injections.

“Ms. Hayes, she’s fading.”

“How many litters are left?”

“You asked for twelve total. We’ve done seven. One more breeding will kill her on the delivery table, for sure.”

I walked into the shed and crouched before the cage.

Wynn’s eyes slowly shifted toward me.

No hatred lingered in them, no fear, no desperate pleas.

Nothing.

Completely empty.

Most of Chloe’s soul had already shattered away. Only the faintest primitive instinct remained.

“Chloe,” I called softly.

No response.

“Chloe Watson.”

Her ear twitched faintly.

“Do you still remember who I am?”

Her lips trembled, shaping a faint, breathy sound.

“Nora…”

My eyes stung abruptly.

I felt no sorrow for her. I grieved for the foolish girl I’d once been.

The girl who’d treated Chloe like family, who’d trusted Ethan with her entire future.

The girl who’d died confused and terrified, never understanding why.

“You’ve paid back everything you owed me,” I said quietly.

A tiny flicker of light sparked in Wynn’s empty eyes.

“I won’t make you breed again.”

Her lips quivered violently, as if struggling to form words.

I leaned down and pressed my ear close to her mouth.

“…Thank… you…”

I stood up straight.

“Don’t thank me. I simply refuse to become someone like you.”

I turned and walked out of the shed.

“Mason, cancel all remaining breedings.”

He stared at me in surprise, “What should I do with her then?”

“Keep her alive. Nothing more.”

Dusk had fallen by the time I stepped outside.

The setting sun dyed the entire yard warm orange.

Zoe waited beside the car, relaxing visibly when she saw me walk out.

“Ms. Hayes, are we heading home?”

“Yes. Home.”

As the car engine started, a faint sound drifted from the shed.

No laughter, no weeping.

Just a tired, breathy bark—soft as a final sigh.

Chloe.

It’s over.