Everybody Back

“If he comes at you, you won't outrun him.”

Clara Bennett stopped beside the man in the torn suit as a growl rolled down the hallway. A massive black dog stood over an unconscious man, his paws planted on either side of the man's body. Blood soaked the white shirt beneath him. More blood marked the marble where the dog had walked.

The man on the floor was still breathing.

Clara watched his chest rise again, barely, and tightened her grip on her bag.

“Then stop trying to corner him.”

The security man turned toward her. There was a cut through his eyebrow and a tear in one sleeve.

“I told you to wait by the entrance.”

“I was waiting until I heard someone say he was dying. I'm a nurse. Who's coordinating his care?”

An older man with silver hair raised his hand. An open medical case sat at his feet, full of things he hadn't been able to use.

“Samuel Price. We can't get close.”

Behind Clara, somebody dragged a catch pole across the floor. The dog bared his teeth. One of the men backed up so quickly he hit the wall.

“Get that out of here,” Clara said.

“An animal-response team is on its way,” the security man told her. “Until they get here, nobody tries anything else.”

She looked past his shoulder. A scorched curtain hung near a fire door. Firefighters had cleared this part of the house, but smoke still clung to the ceiling. A paramedic's radio crackled with confirmation that the ambulance was ready.

This was supposed to have been an ordinary night shift. Clara had agreed to cover for a colleague caring for a woman recovering from hip surgery. When she'd reached the estate gates, she'd found emergency vehicles and armed men asking three different questions at once.

Now her scheduled patient was being taken to her daughter's house, and the man who owned the mansion was bleeding on the floor.

“What's your name?” she asked the guard.

“Marcus.”

“And his?”

Marcus looked at the body.

“Adrian Castellano.”

She knew the name. She'd read enough news on overnight breaks to recognize the man nobody called a businessman without adding a qualification.

“I meant the dog.”

“Titan.”

One ear shifted at the sound of his name. He didn't take his eyes off the men.

Clara noticed the back paw he avoided putting weight on. His chest moved too fast. The skin around his mouth trembled. Every few seconds, he lowered his nose toward Adrian's face, checked something only he understood, and returned to watching the hall.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Since we found them. A little over fifteen minutes. He dragged Adrian out of the wing that caught fire.”

Fifteen minutes was already too long.

“He's hurt and frightened. You're armed, you're shouting, and you're coming at him from every direction.”

Marcus rubbed a hand over his face.

“You think I don't know what this looks like? I've worked with that dog for six years. He knows me. Tonight he nearly took my hand off.”

She believed him. There was nothing theatrical about his voice.

“I worked at a shelter through nursing school. I still volunteer when I can. I can't promise this will work. But I need some room, and so does he.”

Price stepped close enough to speak quietly.

“If you get an opening, we can guide you from here and move in when we can. Don't try to do everything yourself.”

She nodded. That was exactly what she needed to hear.

Marcus looked at Adrian. Then he gave a short signal. The men moved back beyond the doorway, taking the pole and their voices with them.

Clara set down her bag. She secured the badge tapping against her jacket zipper and turned slightly sideways, leaving enough room that Titan wouldn't have to retreat over his owner.

Her legs were already tired from an earlier shift. Now they felt hollow and distinctly unreliable.

“Hi, Titan. My name's Clara. I'm going to stay here a minute.”

He growled without advancing.

She didn't smile, offer her fingers to his nose, or try to pet him. She kept her hands visible and watched his breathing.

“Okay. I hear you.”

The quiet revealed sounds the shouting had covered: water dripping somewhere in the house, static from a radio, Adrian's uneven breaths.

She needed to reach him. She also needed to resist the urge to hurry.

Titan checked his owner again. A drop of blood fell from his paw.

“You need help too,” she murmured.

When she moved, it was only a little, enough to test the distance. His body stiffened. Clara stopped.

Behind her, Marcus drew an audible breath.

“No,” she said without turning. “Stay there.”

Titan watched her face. For one terrible moment, she imagined his teeth closing around her arm. She almost stood. Instead, she slowly released the air trapped in her chest.

She couldn't say whether it was the quiet, the absence of the other men, or exhaustion finally catching up with him. She only knew that when she shifted her weight again, he didn't growl.

A short movement. A pause. Another careful approach.

She got close enough to see soot caught in Adrian's eyelashes. He was younger than she'd expected, with dark stubble and hair plastered to his forehead. The emptiness of his face frightened her more than the abandoned gun near the wall.

“I'm going to touch him.”

The growl returned the moment her hand moved.

She froze. Titan's muzzle was close enough that she felt his hot breath against her wrist.

“Clara,” Marcus called.

“Don't come closer.”

Her heart hammered in her throat. She held still until the dog drew his nose back an inch. Then she tried again, making the movement smaller.

Her fingers found Adrian's wrist.

“Doctor. I'm here.”

Her voice came out low but steady. Price asked concise questions. She answered, shifted enough to check Adrian's breathing, and began what she could without equipment. Titan stayed close, following every motion.

When Marcus slid her bag toward her, the dog tensed again. Clara waited before pulling it the rest of the way.

There was no single miraculous moment. There was a succession of small permissions, each harder to earn than the one before it.

Price reached Adrian's other side. A paramedic followed. When a third man approached, Titan rose, and everyone stopped again.

Clara kept talking, as much to hold herself together as because she believed he understood the words.

“We're still here. Nobody's leaving him alone.”

By the time they were ready to move Adrian, her hands ached and dried blood marked her forearm.

The paramedic brought the stretcher forward.

Titan stepped between it and his owner, rigid all over again.

Marcus held the leash the dog had finally allowed him to attach. He didn't pull.

“We need another minute.”

Clara stood slowly. Titan looked at Adrian, then at her. He took a step and pressed his flank against her leg.

She felt his weight, his warmth, the trembling hidden beneath all that strength.

“I'm coming too,” she said.

He stayed against her while the men lifted Adrian.

And, for the first time that night, he let them carry his person away.