“You got us army doggies?”
“Not just dogs,” Captain Dune says, stepping forward. His tone is matter-of-fact, but there’s pride there, too. “They both served four years. Klause specialized in explosives detection—sharp nose, sharper instincts. Artemis was a tactical apprehension dog. Fast, silent, and protective as hell.”
My heart clenches at that. They’re beautiful—and a little terrifying.
Dune continues, unclipping the leash but giving a quick command in what sounds like German. Neither dog moves.
“I’ll be staying on-site for about a month. They’ll need time to adjust—bond with you both. Learn the property, your voices, your energy. They’ll only respond to specific commands. These dogs aren’t pets, Mr. Baker. They’re partners.”
Trey nods, serious now. “Understood.”
Artemis turns her head toward me, ears pricked. For a second, it feels like she’s staring straight through me, not just at me. Then she pads forward. I tense instinctively—but Trey’s hand finds mine, steadying me.
Artemis stops in front of me and sits. Her gaze doesn’t waver, but her tail gives a single, slow wag.
“She likes you,” Dune says, watching closely. “That’s a good sign.”
Klause comes next, circling once before sitting beside Trey, his chest pressed against Trey’s leg like a soldier reporting for duty.
Chace’s grin softens just a little, pride flickering through the mischief.
“Figured you could both use the extra security. And honestly? They’re good company. Loyal. No bullshit.”
Trey looks down at the dogs, then at me—his expression something between awe and gratitude.
“Thank you, Chace.” he mutters, voice thick with something that sounds a lot like emotion.
Chace shrugs, “You’re welcome.”
The dogs sit there, side by side, still and silent—like twin sentinels.
Captain Dune straightens, handing Trey a thick folder bound in a black leather case.
“All their papers, medical records, and certifications,” he says, voice clipped and precise. “Artemis is four, Klause just past five. Both served together in an elite K9 unit overseas. Explosives detection, pursuit, crowd control, and close protection. You won’t find better.”
Trey takes the folder, flipping through the pages with the same concentration he gives his lyrics, his brow furrowed in that way that always makes my heart do strange, fluttering things.
“And they’re okay with…normal life?” Trey asks.
Captain Dune’s lips twitch, the faintest smile beneath his salt-and-pepper beard.
“They’ll adjust. They were trained to guard, not to fight unless provoked. They’re loyal to the bone. You treat them like family, they’ll die for you.”
My throat tightens at that. Something about the way he saysfamilyhits deep, like it’s the first time someone’s spoken the word without it hurting.
Dune kneels, motioning with his hand.
“Artemis. Klause.Hier.”
Both dogs move in perfect sync, flanking him. They don’t bark, don’t whine—just watch. Waiting. It’s eerie and beautiful all at once. Their focus isn’t aggression—it’s awareness. Like they’re reading the air for intent.
He glances up at Trey.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take them around the perimeter, start familiarization drills.”
Trey nods, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Appreciate it, Captain.”
