Chapter 2 - The Shadows of BrooklynThe bell above the clinic door chimed, but Maya barely heard it. Her fingers traced the clean edges of the gauze on the dog's paw.
"Maya," the receptionist, Chloe, whispered from behind the front desk, her eyes wide as dinner plates. "Do you have any idea who that was?"
"No," Maya answered, though her stomach felt tight.
"That was Raphael Marino. My uncle works sanitation down by the docks; he says people like Marino don't just drop off bags of designer kibble and imported medical wrap. That man owns half the borough."
Maya looked back out the window. The black SUV was already gone, swallowed by the gray Brooklyn traffic, but the air in the room felt altered. A man with that much power didn't care about a stray dog. Or at least, he shouldn't have.
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Later that evening, after the clinic closed and the cages were locked for the night, Maya walked home along the same route. The rain had cleared, leaving the asphalt slick and reflecting the amber glow of streetlamps. Every shadow cast by a brownstone facade looked like a waiting vehicle. When she finally reached her apartment building, she checked the lock twice before stepping inside.
She turned on the kettle, dropped the dog—now unofficially named "Ghost" by Chloe—onto an old rug by the radiator, and stared out her fourth-story window. Down below, parked three spaces away from her usual spot, sat a familiar black SUV.
