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Too Late To Claim Me Back Novel by Poppy Finch _ Novel
Too Late To Claim Me Back Novel by Poppy Finch _ NovelToo Late To Claim Me Back Novel by Poppy Finch _ Novel
Too Late To Claim Me Back Novel by Poppy Finch _ Novel


Too Late To Claim Me Back Novel by Poppy Finch _ Novel


Too Late To Claim Me Back Chapter 01

I ended up at the hospital alone after my werefox, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again.
"This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?"
I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?"
"I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner."
"I never get enough to eat, not after being yours."
"You seriously suck at taking care of me."
Was that honestly how he saw things?
After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast."
***
The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions.
"You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond.
"Why do you want to exchange him now?"
A deep pang of sadness hit me.
It had been a year already.
I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like.
He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me?
"Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you.
"Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry."
He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work.
No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded.
Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to buy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me."
The truth was, he hated me.
The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this.
"They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners."
And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me.
I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck."
Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training.
"Please don't be too hard on yourself.
"Come with me."
I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket.
I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous.
Their files listed them as foxes and leopards.
I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?"
I wanted a canine.
Specifically, a golden retriever.
I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans.
If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me.
The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment.
"However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months.
"As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection."
I nodded.
As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor.
The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous.
He was a werewolf.
The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast.
"Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but buyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them.
"Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're selling him to the fighting arena today.
"The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely kill him.
"Nobody wants to buy him, and it's truly sad."
Nobody wanted him?
Nobody wanted me, either.
But still...
Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts.
"He won't survive."
That sounded like an agonizing way to die.
And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it?
I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?"
She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely."
"Then I'll take him."

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