Chapter 6 - THE TURN OF THE HOUNDTime seemed to slow down to a fraction of a second.
The mercenary’s rifle barrel swung upward, aligning directly with Grant’s chest.
Grant didn't flinch. His finger tightened on the trigger of his Glock, ready to take the lead operator down with him.
But before Grant could fire, something massive, dark, and terrifying launched itself from the dark corner near Luna's mat.
It wasn't a bullet. It was one hundred and thirty pounds of pure, unadulterated muscle and fury.
CAESAR.
The giant Neapolitan Mastiff hit the lead mercenary like a freight train. The impact shattered the man's body armor, sending him crashing backward into the steel instrument cart with a bone-crunching thud. His assault rifle flew from his hands, clattering uselessly across the tile floor.
"Agh! Shoot the damn dog!" the second operative screamed, spinning his rifle around.
"No!" Kira yelled.
Without thinking, Kira dropped flat to the floor, shielding the puppy with her own body as a burst of automatic gunfire chewed through the drywall inches above her head, sending plaster dust raining down like snow.
Grant moved with lethal grace. Two quick, deafening shots cracked through the small room.
Bang. Bang.
The second mercenary dropped instantly, a clean entry wound through his tactical helmet.
The third operative backed toward the ruined doorway, swearing fiercely as he unclipped a flashbang grenade from his tactical vest, pulling the pin with his teeth. "Die, you bastards!"
He hurled it straight into the center of the room.
A blinding flash of magnesium-white light exploded, accompanied by a deafening roar that stripped the air from the room and left ears ringing with a high-pitched, agonizing whine.
Kira squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the tiny puppy against her chest, bracing for the shrapnel.
Instead, she felt a heavy, warm weight drop over her.
Caesar had thrown his massive body directly over Kira and the puppy, absorbing the shockwave and shielding them from the flying debris.
When the white light faded and the smoke cleared, Grant was already standing over the doorway, his gun smoking, firing three precise shots down the hall until a distant scream echoed, followed by the clatter of retreating boots.
"Clear," Grant coughed through the haze, lowering his weapon. He rushed back into the room. "Kira! Are you alright?"
Kira slowly sat up, coughing as she waved away the thick grey smoke. "I... I'm fine. The puppy... the puppy is still breathing!"
She opened her jacket. The tiny bundle of fur gave a soft, indignant squeak, completely oblivious to the war zone happening around it.
Grant let out a long, shuddering breath—the first sign of human vulnerability he had shown all night. He extended a hand and pulled Kira up to her feet.
As she stood, Caesar gave a low groan, shifting his heavy weight off the floor.
"Good boy," Grant murmured, resting a hand on the mastiff's broad head. Then he looked down at Caesar's front leg.
A dark stain was spreading rapidly through the black fur near the dog's shoulder. A ricochet fragment from the initial burst of gunfire had clipped him.
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"He's hit," Kira gasped, dropping to her knees beside the giant dog.
"Reed!" Grant shouted into his wrist communicator. "Secure the perimeter, check the security feeds, and get the emergency medical kit up here now. Caesar is bleeding."
