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Rowan stayed in the truck, engine idling, heat humming softly. His mind assessed, as it always did. Stopping meant involvement. Involvement meant responsibility. No mission here, no chain of command, no exit plan.
He could drive on. Be home in fifteen minutes. Warm cabin. Silence. Control.
She didn’t bark. She didn’t growl. She didn’t flee.
Her eyes were dark, glassy with exhaustion, yet steady. Not pleading. Not desperate. Waiting.
Rowan opened the door.
Cold rushed in, sharp and biting. He stepped into the snow, boots crunching, and moved slowly toward the dog. She shifted slightly but did not move away, staying wrapped protectively around the puppies despite her trembling legs.
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