“This is Dr. Clint Sullivan,” Reese said. He moved to the back door of the truck and opened it. “He’s going to examine the dogs.”
Dr. Sullivan approached the truck slowly, his movements careful and unthreatening. Sonny appreciated that. Appreciated that this stranger understood traumatized animals needed a cautious approach. The vet’s brown eyes swept over Delilah and Hercules, taking in their scars and injuries with an expression that made the tight knot inside Sonny’s chest loosen slightly.
“They’ve been through hell,” Dr. Sullivan said quietly. His voice carried the same gentle quality as his face. “How long have they been out of the fighting ring?”
“Three days.” Sonny climbed out of the truck and moved to stand near the open back door. His body positioned itself between the vet and the dogs without conscious thought, protective instincts overriding common sense. “I’ve been keeping their wounds clean, but the female has an infection starting in her front leg. The male’s ribs didn’t heal properly. They’re both malnourished and dehydrated and scared of everything.”
With a nod, Dr. Sullivan extended his hand toward Delilah, letting her sniff his fingers before attempting to touch her. The dog’s tail gave a tentative wag. “I’m going to need to examine them inside. Run some tests. The infection needs antibiotics, and the male probably needs x-rays to see what’s happening with those ribs.”
“I’m coming with the.,” His bunny bristled at the thought of being separated from the dogs. “They don’t know you. They’ll be scared if I’m not with them.”
Dr. Sullivan’s expression held understanding. “These exams can take a while. You’re welcome to stay, but it might be more comfortable if you waited in the lobby.”
“I’m not worried about my own comfort.” Sonny met the vet’s eyes, refusing to back down. His voice came out steadier now, less defensive. “They’ve been hurt for weeks. I’m not leaving them alone with strangers, no matter how nice you seem.”
Warmth pressed against Sonny’s lower back. Reese’s hand was large and solid and grounding. His mate’s presence settled over him like a physical weight and made the panic trying to claw its way out recede slightly.
“He stays,” Reese said, voice soft but firm.
Dr. Sullivan studied them for a moment, brown eyes lingering on where Reese’s hand rested. Then he smiled, something knowing in his eyes. “All right. Let’s get them inside.”
Reese lifted Delilah from the truck again, cradling her with the same careful gentleness he’d shown before. Sonny helped Hercules climb down, supporting his weight when the dog’s injured ribs made movement difficult. The male leaned against Sonny’s legs once his paws hit the pavement, seeking comfort.
The clinic’s interior smelled like antiseptic and dog food and something floral that was probably coming from the diffuser on the front desk. The lighting was soft, not the harsh fluorescents Sonny had been expecting. Everything about the space felt designed to minimize stress, from the muted colors on the walls to the quiet music playing from hidden speakers.
Dr. Sullivan led them through a door marked Exam Room 2. The space was larger than Sonny had anticipated, with a padded table in the center and cabinets lining the walls. Medical equipment that Sonny recognized from his time patching up fighting dogs sat on a rolling cart near the table.
“Let’s start with the female.” Dr. Sullivan moved to wash his hands at the small sink in the corner, his movements practiced and efficient. “What’s her name?”
“Delilah.” Sonny watched as Reese set the dog on the exam table, his large hands steadying her when she tried to scramble off. “The male is Hercules.”
Dr. Sullivan’s smile widened. “Those are much better names than what they probably had before.”
He approached Delilah slowly, talking to her in a low voice while his hands moved over her body. The dog tensed but didn’t try to bite, her eyes tracking the vet’s movements. Sonny positioned himself where Delilah could see him, his presence reminding her that she wasn’t alone.
The examination took longer than expected. Dr. Sullivan was thorough, checking every wound, every scar, every place where Delilah’s body had been damaged by weeks of forced violence. He murmured observations to himself, occasionally making notes on a tablet propped on the counter. The infection in her leg made him frown, his fingers gentle as he probed the swollen tissue.
“This needs aggressive treatment.” The vet looked up at Sonny, his expression serious. “The infection is deeper than I’d like. She’s going to need IV antibiotics and monitoring for at least the first twenty-four hours.”
Sonny’s stomach dropped. “You want to keep her overnight?”
“I want to keep both of them overnight.” Dr. Sullivan moved to Hercules, who had been sitting pressed against Sonny’s legs. “Those ribs need x-rays, and depending on what I find, he might need surgery to reset them properly. Plus they’re both severely underweight. I want to get some fluids and nutrients into them before they go anywhere.”
The room tilted slightly. Sonny gripped the edge of the exam table, clenching hard enough that his knuckles went white. Leaving the dogs here meant trusting strangers with their care. Meant going somewhere else while Delilah and Hercules stayed in an unfamiliar place without him. His bunny was screaming that this was wrong, that abandoning them was unacceptable.
“I can’t leave them.” The words scraped out of Sonny’s throat. “They’ve been through enough. They need someone they know. Someone they trust.”
Dr. Sullivan’s expression softened. “I understand. But they need medical care that goes beyond what you can provide. The infection alone could kill her if we don’t treat it aggressively.”
Sonny knew that. His bunny had sensed the infection spreading, had known it was getting worse despite his attempts to keep it clean. But knowing something intellectually and accepting it emotionally were two different things. These dogs had trusted him to keep them safe, and now he was supposed to just leave them in a strange place with strange people?
“I’ll sleep in the parking lot.” Sonny heard himself say. “I’ll stay close. That way if they need me, I’ll be right there.”
“Sonny.” Reese’s voice came from behind him, low and measured. His mate had been standing near the door, giving them space, but now he moved closer. “You’re exhausted. You need rest.”
“The dogs need me more.” Sonny didn’t turn around. His eyes stayed fixed on Delilah and Hercules, both of whom were watching him with expressions that seemed to understand more than dogs should. “I promised them I’d keep them safe. I’m not breaking that promise.”
Silence filled the exam room. Sonny could feel Reese behind him, could sense his mate’s presence like a physical pressure. Dr. Sullivan examined Hercules next, his hands gentle as they probed the male’s misshapen ribs. The dog flinched but didn’t pull away, his trust in Sonny extending to the vet by proximity.
