Zeus shifted under her hand, and she kept her eyes on him instead of Jade. It was easier that way.
“I gave the command, and he went in.” She kept her voice level, the way it had been during incident reports. “Seven steps. I always counted. And then…the explosion.”
The office was quiet except for Zeus’s breathing and the distant hum of precinct happenings beyond the walls. Maddox forced herself to continue.
“The IED was triggered. He was caught in the blast.” Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it. “I ran in. Someone tried to stop me, but I got to him.”
The memory played behind her eyes: smoke and blood and Titan’s labored breathing. Her hand stilled in Zeus’s fur.
“There were massive injuries, internal bleeding. The medics couldn’t do anything.” The words came faster now, like they’d been building pressure for eight years and finally found an outlet. “He died in my arms. Took two or three minutes, but it felt longer. He kept looking at me to fix it, and…I couldn’t.”
“You were with him,” Jade said quietly. “At the end.”
Maddox’s teeth ground together. “I sent him in there.”
“You followed protocol.”
“He died.”
“Yes.” Jade’s voice was steady, not arguing but not backing down either. “He did, and that’s not the same as you killing him.”
The words hit harder than Maddox expected. She looked up and met Jade’s eyes for the first time since starting the story.
“I gave the command,” Maddox said again, but it came out weaker this time, almost a question.
“You did your job. He did his.” Jade shuffled in her chair and leaned forward slightly. “K-9s are trained to go into danger. That’s what they do. It’s why they’re partnered with handlers. Someone has to make the call, and it can’t be the dog.”
“But if I’d?—”
“Done something different?” Jade’s tone gentled. “What? Sent yourself in first? Violated protocol and maybe gottenyourself killed along with putting your unit at risk? Or refused the mission entirely and faced a court-martial?”
Maddox didn’t answer. She’d run those scenarios a thousand times in eight years and never found one that ended better.
“You made the right call with the information you had,” Jade continued. “The IED was there regardless of who found it. Titan was trained to detect it, and he did exactly what he was supposed to do. His death was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your failure.”
The logic was sound, intellectually Maddox knew that, but the guilt sat in her chest like it always had: heavy and immovable.
“He trusted me,” she said, her voice cracking. “Right up until he died, he trusted me completely, and I got him killed.”
“He trusted you to do your job, and you did. He trusted you to be with him at the end, and you were.” Jade paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “You’ve been carrying this alone for eight years. That’s what I’m hearing. Not just grief, but guilt that you think you’re not allowed to share because you believe it’s your fault.”
Maddox felt something crack open in her chest, sudden and sharp. She pressed her hand harder against Zeus’s head, needing the anchor. “Zeus,” she managed. “I’m terrified of losing him the same way. Every call, every time I give a command, I’m back there with Titan dying and thinking it’ll happen again.”
“Is that why you hold back with him?”
The question landed like a gut punch because it was true, and Maddox had never said it out loud before.
“If I need him too much—” She swallowed hard. “What if needing someone gets them killed?”
Jade held her gaze, and something in her eyes softened further. “What if not needing anyone kills you instead?”
The words settled in the space between them, quiet and devastating in their simplicity. Maddox felt tears prick at her eyes and blinked hard against them.
“I don’t know how to do it differently,” she admitted, and the vulnerability of it made her feel stripped bare.
“That’s why you’re here.” Jade’s tone was gentle but firm. “Not to fix everything overnight, but to start learning, to stop carrying eight years of guilt alone, and maybe let yourself grieve without blaming yourself for loving him.”
The session time must’ve been close to ending, and Maddox realized she’d lost track of time for the first time. Zeus shifted at her feet, and she felt exhausted down to her bones but also somehow lighter. Like she’d been holding her breath for years and finally let it out.
