Page 67 of Vetted for Vengeance

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I know what he’s saying. I’ve known it since I walked in. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.

“If we take two off…” My voice drops. “The rest have a better chance.”

“And the two?”

“They get bottle-fed. Heat support. Round-the-clock care.” Maybe with the nurses' support, I can survive adding more bottle-fed pups.

“With staff,” he reminds me.

Not just me. Not just my hands. Not just my responsibility. I look back at Honey.

She’s watching me now. Tired. Trusting.

Breaking. She whines as a puppy kneads against her incision site.

“I don’t want to choose,” I whisper.

“You’re not choosing who lives,” Rhys says evenly. “You’re choosing how they survive.”

That shouldn’t make it easier, but it does.

Because this isn’t the farm. This isn’t cutting losses. This is giving them a different kind of chance.

I reach into the pile of warm, wriggling bodies and lift the smallest. The third smallest of all twelve, but the smallest still with her.

Then hesitate. My hand hovers over the second.

If I take the smallest, I leave the bigger pups to dominate her milk.

If I take the biggest, I'm leaving the most vulnerable to struggle. I want to take them all and free Honey from her struggle.

I hate this. I hate that I know how to do this.

“Which one?” I ask.

Rhys doesn’t answer immediately. He watches, letting me think. Giving me time to choose.

Finally, he answers

“The one you’re worried about.”

I nod.

He's right. I take the smallest away, give them the help they need to bottle-feed rather than fighting for space.

I lift the second pup, cradling both against my chest.

They’re warm. Alive. Still fighting.

“Okay,” I breathe. “Okay… we can do this.”

Rhys stands, already shifting into action.

“I’ll have Chloe prepare the incubator for two more. Heat pad, formula, feeding schedule.”

“I’ll do the first feed,” I say automatically.

“No,” he replies instantly.

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