Dascha can't stand people. Never has, never will. The very thought of being touched by another human makes his stomach turn. Then along comes Jett-a single father with a sharp tongue-and Alabaster, his prickly son. They despise Dascha every bit as much as he despises them, and frankly, that suits him just fine.
But hatred is a fickle thing. The snarling, the barbed words, the constant chest-to-chest stand-offs-it all begins to wear thin. Somewhere between the venom and the vitriol, something unexpected takes root. Dascha's walls begin to crumble, brick by stubborn brick, until he finds himself hopelessly tangled between father and son.
Yet just as the dust begins to settle, the game changes. Because there's a shadow still lurking-watching, twisting, pulling their strings. Dascha, Jett, and Alabaster thought they were free to carve their own path. They were wrong. They've only just stepped onto the board, and they're nothing more than THE MUTT'S PLAYTHING.