Chapter 15 - The Weight of SteelThe evening air carried the crisp, sharp scent of approaching winter as I stepped out onto the rear stone terrace. The lake below was a dark, churning sheet of gray, reflecting the last bruised streaks of purple and orange as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.
Bruno trotted up beside me, his heavy head resting affectionately against my knee, breathing out a warm, steady sigh that fogged in the cool air.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the broken silver clasp I had found in the mud beside the rear gate three weeks ago. The jagged edge of stainless steel was still sharp to the touch.
I walked over to the custom blacksmith’s anvil I kept in the corner of the stone patio—a remnant of an old hobby I hadn't touched in years. I laid the broken clasp flat against the iron surface, heated the forge until the gas flames roared with a brilliant blue light, and grabbed the heavy iron tongs.
I wasn't going to throw the clasp away. I wasn't going to hide it in a drawer or bury it in the woods.
I picked up the heavy cross-peen hammer, let the glowing steel heat until it glowed a blinding, cherry red, and began to pound it flat, folding the jagged metal over and over again until the break disappeared into a solid, seamless band of pure alloy.
When it cooled, I walked over to Bruno, who sat patiently watching me with his dark, intelligent eyes.
I slipped the newly forged, unbreakable collar around his massive neck, clicking the heavy dual-locking brass buckle securely into place.
May you like
He didn't flinch. He didn't growl. He simply leaned his full 150-pound weight against my leg, letting out a deep, contented rumble that vibrated through the stones beneath our feet.
The gate was locked. The house was secure. And for the first time in ten years, the shadows were completely gone.
