Hope.
Fear.
And something that looked painfully close to grief.
‘He used to be able to sit through anything,’ Rowan said.
Marcus stayed still.
The others were walking ahead now, their torches bobbing in the dusk. Veronica’s voice floated back to them, bright and dramatic, but for once Marcus did not hurry to keep up.
‘Noise, crowds, shouting, sirens, doors slamming, radios, vehicles.’ Rowan looked down at Atlas. ‘He was steady. That was his gift. He could go into chaos and stay focused.’
Marcus kept his voice soft. ‘Because he trusted you.’
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
For a moment, Marcus thought he had said the wrong thing.
Then Rowan nodded once.
‘Yes.’ He drew in a slow breath. ‘That was the problem.’
Marcus’s chest tightened. ‘Rowan—’
‘I gave him a command.’ Rowan’s voice was low, controlled, but Marcus could hear the strain beneath it now. ‘He did exactly what I trained him to do. Exactly what I asked of him.’
Atlas shifted closer to Rowan’s leg.
Rowan’s hand moved over the dog’s head, slow and familiar.
‘There was a situation during our last placement. A building search. It should have been routine.’ He gave a humourless breath. ‘They always say that afterwards, don’t they? Routine. Controlled. Assessed. As if those words mean anything once everything goes wrong.’
Marcus did not speak.
He barely breathed.
‘There was a noise,’ Rowan continued. ‘Metal. Glass. People shouting. Too many things at once. I couldn’t see him for a few seconds.’ His hand stilled on Atlas’s fur. ‘Only a few seconds.’
Marcus understood then that a few seconds could be a lifetime.
Rowan looked towards the harbour, but Marcus did not think he was seeing it.
‘When I got to him, he was still trying to work. Still trying to obey the last thing I’d told him.’ His voice roughened. ‘That’s what stays with me. Not the noise. Not the mess. Not the reports afterwards. Him looking at me as if he was waiting for the next command.’
Marcus’s throat felt thick.
‘Was he hurt?’ he asked quietly.
Rowan’s eyes closed for one brief moment.
‘Not in the way people mean when they ask that question.’
The answer landed heavily between them.
Not broken bones, then. Or not only that.
Something deeper. Something harder to show. Harder to explain. Harder for people to understand.
