Chapter 7 - What the Dog Remembered
Two hundred pounds of raw muscle and ancient instincts hit Dominic Moretti with the force of an avalanche.
The pistol flew from Dominic’s hand, crashing into the far wall, as the giant dog slammed him into the hardwood floor. Dominic let out a choked, bloody scream as Bear’s jaws clamped around his left shoulder, crushing bone and leather in a single bite.
"Shoot it! Shoot it!" the second intruder shrieked, swinging his snare pole wildly.
Bear let go of Dominic, spun around with blinding speed, and caught the second man by the thigh, dragging him to the floor like a ragdoll. The bedroom became a warzone of shattered furniture, tearing fabric, and terrified screams.
The remaining two intruders panicked. They fired wildly into the dark—two suppressed shots tearing into the floorboards—before turning and fleeing down the hallway toward the stairs.
Bear didn't pursue them down the stairs. His duty wasn't to hunt; his duty was to protect.
Bleeding from a grazing gunshot wound along his left ribs, the giant dog turned back toward the closet door.
Dominic lay groaning on the floor, his shoulder shattered, his eyes wide with horror as he tried to crawl toward his fallen gun. Bear walked over slowly, placed one massive, heavy paw directly onto Dominic’s chest, pressing down until the mobster’s ribs cracked, and let out a low, terrifying growl that shook the windowpanes.
Dominic went completely still, freezing in absolute terror under the dog's crushing weight.
The closet door slowly swung open.
Arya stepped out into the room. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were clear. She looked at the wounded intruder pinned beneath her dog, then down at the dark blood dripping from Bear's left side.
"Bear..." Arya whispered, her voice rough, trembling, but perfectly clear.
Bear turned his massive head, his amber eyes softening instantly as he looked at her.
Arya walked over, kneeling in the dark beside the giant beast. She didn't look at Dominic. She reached out her small hands and pressed them against Bear's bleeding ribs, tears streaming down her face.
"Good boy," Arya said, her voice rising in volume, the words flowing out of her like a river breaking through a dam that had held for three long years. "Good boy, Bear. You saved me. You saved me."
Downstairs, the heavy front doors were thrown open with a violent crash.
"Arya?!" Vincenzo’s voice roared through the house, filled with absolute, unhinged panic.
Vincenzo rushed up the stairs, followed by Marco and six heavily armed security operatives, their boots thunderous against the marble. Vincenzo burst into the bedroom, his gun raised, expecting the worst.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The room was destroyed. One intruder lay unconscious by the door; another was pinned beneath Bear’s massive paw, crying softly in terror.
And in the center of the room, sitting in the dark beneath the red emergency light, was his eleven-year-old daughter, her arms wrapped tightly around the giant gray dog's neck.
Arya looked up at her father.
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"Dad," she said clearly, her voice echoing through the silent, ruined room. "Call a doctor for Bear. He's hurt."
Vincenzo dropped his gun. It clattered uselessly onto the hardwood floor as the powerful mafia boss fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably in front of his men.
