Chapter 1

My wife, Tori, loved beautiful things. She collected them. Art, cars, houses. Me. I was the rough-around-the-edges Montana horse wrangler who looked good in her New England world. A trophy.

Her other beautiful thing was Julian. Her childhood friend. He was pale and fragile, with a rare neurological disorder that made him shake. Tori had spent a fortune on his care since we were married. He lived with us in the sprawling Davenport estate, a permanent fixture of our lives.

Today, the three of us were walking by the stables. I was checking on Patches, my Shetland pony. A piece of home.

Julian was telling Tori about a new clinic in Switzerland. It would cost millions.

"Whatever it takes, Jules," she said, stroking his arm. "Whatever it takes."

That' s when Patches let out a loud, happy whinny from his stall.

Julian flinched. He gasped, his eyes rolling back. He collapsed to the manicured lawn, his body jerking violently.

"The noise!" Tori screamed, kneeling beside him. "It's the stress! That damn pony!"

I knew Julian. I knew his tells. I' d seen him practice these "seizures" in his mirror when he thought no one was looking. This was a performance. A multi-million dollar performance.

"Tori, he's faking," I said, my voice low and urgent.

She looked up at me. Her face was a mask of pure fury. She didn' t see me. She saw an obstacle.

"You have no empathy," she hissed. "You can't stand that I care for someone else."

She stood up, her eyes scanning the area. They landed on a polo mallet leaning against the stable wall. She grabbed it.

"Tori, no," I said, moving to block her.

She shoved me aside with a strength I didn't know she had. She marched to the stall, unlatched the door, and walked in. Patches trotted towards her, expecting a treat.

The first swing of the mallet was a dull, wet thud. The pony screamed. It was a sound of pure terror and pain.

I tried to get to her, but her two security guards, always nearby, grabbed my arms. I fought against them, screaming her name, screaming for her to stop.

She didn't stop. She swung again and again. Blood sprayed across the clean white walls of the stall. The pony' s screams became weak, gurgling sounds, and then silence.

She walked out, breathing heavily. The mallet dripped red onto the perfect grass. She looked at me, my face a mess of tears and horror.

"Now you know what it feels like to watch something you love suffer," she said, her voice cold. "A lesson in empathy."

She then pointed at me.

"Take him to the root cellar. Let him think about what he's done."

The guards dragged me across the lawn, past the main house, to an old stone structure half-buried in the ground. They threw me down the stairs. The heavy oak door slammed shut, and I heard the bolt slide into place.

It was dark and smelled of damp earth. But I wasn't alone.

I heard a low growl from the corner. Then another.

Tori's rescues. Two pit bulls from a dogfighting ring. She kept them for her philanthropic image, but they were vicious, untamable. I could see the glint of their eyes in the darkness.

"Tori!" I screamed, pounding on the door. "Tori, let me out! Please! The dogs are in here!"

I heard her voice, faint, from the other side of the door.

"Don't be such a coward, Liam. They won't hurt you if you don't show fear. You're the great animal whisperer, aren't you? Tame them."

The growling got louder. They started to circle me. I backed into a corner, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"TORI!"

Her footsteps faded away.

The first dog lunged.