“Honey, this isn’t how it works,” the auctioneer said, scratching his head. “You need to be a registered bidder, and this dog… he’s failed his temperament tests.”
“He didn’t fail,” Emma replied, clutching the cold metal of her father’s badge. “He’s a hero.”
She slid her hand through the cage bars. To the collective gasp of the crowd, the “dangerous” dog did not snap. Instead, Shadow closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, tail flicking weakly but hopefully—a gesture of recognition. He wasn’t choosing a master; he was acknowledging a fellow survivor.
Emma reached into her pocket and retrieved a worn, tear-stained envelope. “My dad wanted me to take care of him. He told me so.”
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