“This is the part people usually remember,” Maddox said, her tone dry enough to suggest she knew exactly how this played. “Zeus is trained in apprehension work, which means if a suspect is fleeing or threatening someone, Zeus can stop them. But everything you’re about to see is controlled. Zeus only acts on my command, and he stops on my command. He’s not aggressive, just protective, and there’s a big difference.”
Officer Brennan returned, now wearing a heavily padded bite sleeve. She positioned herself at the far end of the field, and Maddox gave Zeus the command. The speed was breathtaking. Zeus launched forward, closing the distance in seconds, and the impact when he hit the padded sleeve was audible, even from Jade’s position. The crowd gasped in unison and a few children stepped back instinctively, but Zeus clamped down on the sleeve with control. He didn’t thrash or pull, just maintained his grip until Maddox called him off. When she did, he released immediately, returning to her side and sitting at her heel like nothing had happened.
The crowd erupted in applause, and a few people whooped.
Jade found her coffee forgotten on the table beside her, long since gone cold. She’d been watching the entire demonstration without blinking, cataloguing every detail, every moment where Maddox’s walls lowered just enough to let something genuine show through.
This was Maddox purely in her element—competent, controlled, and connected to her work in a way that made sense to her. The partnership with Zeus wasn’t complicated by human emotions or vulnerability. Zeus did his job, Maddox did hers, and together they were extraordinary.
And the way Maddox softened her edges around him—the brief touches, the warmth in her voice when she praised him, the way her entire demeanor eased when they worked together—showed exactly what she was capable of when her barriers came down.
She just didn’t let herself have that with people.
Maddox fielded questions from the crowd now, children raising their hands eagerly and parents asking about training and safety. She answered each one with surprising patience, never dismissive but not inviting closeness either, even when she explained how Zeus lived with her, how long they’d been partners, and what his favorite reward was after a good day of work.
“Can we pet him now?” a small boy asked, bouncing on his tippy toes.
“Not yet,” Maddox said, not unkindly. “Zeus just worked hard. He needs a few minutes to cool down and decompress before he can socialize. Working dogs aren’t pets. They’re professionals, just like me, and they need breaks too.”
The boy’s face fell slightly, but he nodded slightly, accepting the boundary.
Jade watched Maddox guide Zeus away from the crowd toward the shade near the K-9 vehicles, giving him water from a collapsible bowl and letting him rest. The demonstration was over, but the care continued. She was attentive, making sure Zeus had what he needed before anything else.
This was how Maddox survived and what framework that made sense to her. And Jade, watching from her booth with professional curiosity and growing understanding, recognized the wound beneath the competence: Maddox could give care, show softness, and offer trust—but only when the relationship had clear boundaries, defined roles, and had no risk of being asked for more than she was willing or able to give.
Zeus was safe precisely because he couldn’t ask her to be vulnerable.
The crowd began to disperse, families moving toward the next demonstration area and children still chattering excitedly about the police dog. Jade turned back to her table, organizing pamphlets that didn’t need organizing and aware that she’d just learned more about Maddox Shaw in thirty minutes than she had in two therapy sessions.
Jade was updating her sign-up sheet—two officers had stopped by during the demo, both asking quiet questions about the group sessions—when movement caught her eye. A small girl, maybe six or seven, had broken away from her parents and was approaching Maddox with the kind of determined courage that came from not yet understanding social boundaries. She wore a bright purple jacket and had her hair in two braids that bounced as she walked.
Maddox was still in the shade near the K-9 vehicles, Zeus resting beside her, when the girl stopped a respectful few feet away. Even from fifty feet, Jade could see the girl’s hands clasped in front of her, polite but hopeful.
“Excuse me?” The girl’s voice was small but clear. “Can I pet your dog?”
Maddox’s posture shifted, not quite softening but not hardening either. She crouched down to the girl’s level, and Jade found herself leaning forward again, her curiosity piqued.
“Zeus is working,” Maddox said, her voice carrying the same firm patience she’d used with the crowd. “He needs to rest right now before he can make new friends. Can you wait a few minutes?”
The girl’s face fell, her shoulders drooping, and she took a small step back.
Maddox paused, and something in her expression changed. Not much, just a fractional easing around her eyes and a slighttilt of her head. She was still crouched at the girl’s level, still holding that space between them.
“What’s your name?” Maddox asked.
“Emma.”
“Okay, Emma, you wait right there with your mom.” Maddox gestured toward the woman hovering anxiously nearly. “When Zeus is ready, I’ll call you over first. Deal?”
Emma’s entire face lit up, the disappointment evaporating. “Really?”
“Promise.”
Emma ran back to her mother, bouncing with barely contained excitement, and Maddox straightened. She didn’t look toward Jade’s booth or acknowledge any observation, but something about the set of her shoulders suggested she was aware of the audience.
Jade made a mental note:Patience with children, willingness to get down on their level and explain instead of dismiss, making the interaction meaningful.
And there was something else, something harder to quantify. It was the softness in Maddox’s voice when she’d said “promise,” the way she’d positioned herself at eye level with Emma instead of looming over her, and the conscious choice to make the little girl feel special rather than simply setting a boundary and walking away.
