This time, Irina fell flat on her face and ended up with her mouth full of mud.

“Winston, if you continue being like this, I’m going to get mad.”

Irina spat out the mud in her mouth and flailed her arms, lying face down on the ground and unable to flip around.

He had let go of her just now, so why was he pouncing on her again? As a member of the feline species, was Winston playing with her as though she was a rat?

Actually, Irina was mistaken about Winston. It was in predators’ nature to hunt—even if they weren’t hungry, they couldn’t help but give chase when...