Because at that moment, Delta rested his snout gently against the old man’s thigh.
Not submissive.
Not defensive.
Valeria raised her hand sharply.
“Prepare,” she ordered. “If the dog reacts, nobody advances.”
The air thickened.
A safety catch clicked.
A radio hissed.
“Commander,” Mateo whispered, eyes wide, “the dog isn’t showing aggression. He’s… calm.”
Valeria didn’t look away.
“That’s exactly the problem,” she said quietly. “Delta doesn’t act like this with strangers.”
She took a single, deliberate step forward—slow, controlled, like a command given a thousand times before.
But for the first time in her career…
Because some bonds aren’t trained.
They’re remembered.
—K9, attack!
The fog seemed to stand still. The sea, too.
But the dog did not attack.
Instead, he turned his head toward Valeria with a look that wasn’t confusion. It was… offense. A warning. Then, with a decisiveness that made several people’s blood run cold, the German Shepherd positioned himself completely between Don Ernesto and the officers, paws firmly planted, back bristling.
And he growled. Not at the old man. At them.
“What…?” whispered an agent.
“Delta, hook up! That’s an order!” Valeria shouted, and for the first time her voice cracked a little.
There was a second, barely a second, when everyone understood something terrifying: the threat wasn’t the old man. The threat was the truth they weren’t seeing.
Don Ernesto slowly raised his hands, palms open.
Continue reading…
