The hospital lobby smelled of disinfectant and coffee. Fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead while late-shift nurses moved with quiet efficiency. Titan walked calmly at Marcus’s side until they reached the pediatric wing corridor.
Then he stopped.
Not hesitated.
Stopped completely, muscles tightening beneath thinning fur.
Marcus tugged gently on the leash. “Come on, big guy. Wrong direction.”
Titan didn’t even glance at him. His ears angled forward toward a distant sound barely noticeable beneath hospital noise — a child screaming somewhere down the hallway. The sound wasn’t ordinary crying; it carried raw panic, sharp and desperate enough to make nearby staff exchange uneasy looks.
Titan’s breathing deepened.
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