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Still, the mother refused to leave.
She dug into the frozen ground again and again, her paws raw, her body trembling with exhaustion. When the wind cut sharper, she lowered herself further, pressing her warmth into the puppies, even as it drained the last of her strength.
He was driving along the county road just beyond town, his old pickup moving slowly through the snow. Rowan was forty, tall and solid, built with the disciplined strength of a man trained to survive. He had left the Navy SEALs three years prior, but the instincts remained. His eyes never stopped scanning—not from fear, but from habit.
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