Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 389

Mila had been forced to sit out in the garden until nightfall. By the time the air turned chilly and she was so numb she could barely feel her legs, a maid finally came to lead her back to her room.

Dinner, of course, was out of the question.

...

The wolf was still there.

She watched as the animal—wolf in name, but acting more like a dog—gorged itself on food, then let out a long, rank belch in her direction. Mila’s eyes practically gleamed green, though whether from hunger or pure irritation, she couldn’t say.

She was hungry enough to eat the wolf.

That night, after confirming the wolf wasn’t about to attack her—at least for the moment—Mila decided to get what sleep she could, even with a wolf in the room. Skipping sleep on an empty stomach would only make things worse.

Sure, she’d told the kidnapper earlier that she wouldn’t run or try to fight back, but if a chance came along, she wasn’t about to let it slip by.

The couch was impossible to sleep on, so she crawled between the bed curtains, determined to shut out the sight of the wolf and pretend it didn’t exist. But the wolf clearly disliked being ignored. The moment she settled in, its head poked through the curtains, golden eyes glinting in the dark, intent on her.

They locked eyes for two tense seconds. Then Mila lay back, closed her eyes, and pretended not to notice.

Stare all you want, she thought. I need to sleep.

After a day spent with her kidnapper in the garden, being punished by sitting until night with no dinner, she was physically and mentally exhausted. If the wolf wanted to eat her while she slept, so be it.

At this point, she could only chalk it up to fate.

But in the middle of the night, hunger woke her. Her stomach growled so loudly it was impossible to sleep.

She craved food.

Her eyes, shining with green desperation, drifted to the wolf, which had dozed off with its head resting over the side of the bed, snoring softly.

Wolf meat—would it taste any good?

...

Mila considered her own strength—she was realistic. Still, the hunger was maddening.

Since she’d been snatched and brought here, she hadn’t had a proper meal. She’d been chased by a wolf, cooped up with a kidnapper, and forced to share a room with a predator who might decide to snack on her at any moment. Her nerves were shot; the few scraps of food she’d managed to scrounge up didn’t come close to keeping her going.

She was dizzy with hunger.

This couldn’t go on.

She sat up in bed, immediately drawing the wolf’s attention. It sprang up, planting its paws on the mattress, baring its teeth and growling low in its throat.

Mila had spent enough time with the creature to know it was smarter than it looked.

She took a steadying breath. Not sure if this foreign wolf would understand her, she resorted to gestures—first miming a big plate piled high with meat, then pretending to shove food into her mouth. She was trying to signal: I’ll take you to food.

It was a gamble.

The wolf cocked its head, golden eyes glinting in the darkness. There was a long, tense pause. Suddenly, the wolf lunged closer.

Well, that’s it, she thought. Gamble lost.

Mila shut her eyes and sighed.

But instead of fangs, she felt teeth tugging at the hem of her nightgown. The wolf gave a determined yank, dragging her toward the door, drool dripping everywhere.

Mila: “...”

She was at a loss for words. So, the wolf was a foodie, too.