My Pet Dog Is the Wolf Commander

Fresh out of college, I bought a big dog shifter at the black market as a bodyguard. He was muscular, wearing a muzzle and chains. I fed him, medicated him, removed his muzzle. He cooked, cleaned, guarded the house—but refused to sleep in my bed. Then the Shifter Corps arrived. He was their SSS-rank pureblood wolf commander. He played a dog so well he fooled me and everyone else. I kicked him out. He chased me to a hotel, knelt with red eyes: “I’ll be your dog. Better than anyone.”