Maria rushed forward, blocking his path. “Officer Hayes, please. Stay away from that area.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“It’s complicated,” she said quietly. “And dangerous.” Dangerous. That was a word Daniel didn’t ignore.
“Maria,” he said gently but firmly. “I’m an officer. If someone or something is in trouble, I need to know.” Her eyes softened for a moment, revealing a flicker of sorrow she couldn’t hide. Then she sighed, lowering her voice. “There’s a dog back there. Shadow. We keep him separated for everyone’s safety.”
Another crash echoed. But this time it wasn’t violent. It sounded more like a clumsy stumble. A faint whine followed. Daniel felt something tug at his chest. “Why is he isolated?” he asked.
Maria shook her head. “Please, Daniel. Just leave it. Shadow’s been through enough.” But Daniel wasn’t listening anymore. Something about the way she spoke, the tremble in her voice, the mystery wrapped in those darkened halls, pulled him in.
He found himself walking past her, past the warning signs, past the fear swirling through the shelter. He was drawn not by duty, but by something deeper, toward a dog whose story he had yet to hear.
Daniel stepped into the dim hallway, the air growing colder with every step. The overhead lights buzzed weakly, casting long shadows that stretched across the concrete floor. At the very end of the corridor stood a single reinforced kennel. It was bigger, thicker, and more isolated than the others. A metal lock wrapped in a chain held the gate shut. This had to be Shadow.
Daniel approached slowly. “Easy boy,” he murmured, more to break the silence than anything else. From the darkness inside, two golden eyes flickered open. They didn’t flash with rage. They glimmered with something far more haunting: fear.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
