I Bought a War Slave for Relief

After 18 years lost, I came home to an S-class white leopard who only purred for my adopted sister. So one drunken night, I bought a bottom-tier black panther war slave for 5k—chained, muzzled, and marked for disposal. Surprise: he was no trash. He kissed my scars, wore my collar, and bit through anyone who touched me. When my perfect white leopard finally begged, “Let me come back,” my panther smiled: “Sis, should I make him disappear?”

After 18 years lost, I came home to an S-class white leopard who only purred for my adopted sister. So one drunken night, I bought a bottom-tier black panther war slave for 5k—chained, muzzled, and marked for disposal. Surprise: he was no trash. He kissed my scars, wore my collar, and bit through anyone who touched me. When my perfect white leopard finally begged, “Let me come back,” my panther smiled: “Sis, should I make him disappear?”