Chapter 3: The Silent Guardian
The man took another step.
The floorboard under his boot groaned.
He raised the heavy metallic object.
His eyes locked on the sleeping mother.
He had no idea what was waiting in the shadows.
The dog didn't growl anymore.
Growling was a warning.
And the dog was past warning.
He launched himself.
Seventy pounds of pure muscle, bone, and loyalty.
Silent. Deadly.
He didn't aim for the man's leg.
He aimed high.
The dog's jaws clamped around the man's forearm.
The exact arm holding the metal weapon.
The man let out a muffled, shocked gasp.
He stumbled backward, hitting the doorframe.
The metal tool clattered to the floor.
It was a heavy crowbar.
The mother jerked awake.
Her eyes flew open.
Confusion. Then absolute terror.
"Who are you?!" she screamed, pulling the blanket up.
She looked frantically beside her.
The baby was gone.
Panic seized her chest. "Where is my baby?!"
But the man wasn't looking at her.
He was fighting for his life.
He swung his other fist, punching the dog in the ribs.
Hard. Brutal.
The dog whimpered but did not let go.
Blood dripped onto the carpet.
The man kicked the dog.
Once. Twice.
The golden retriever’s grip slipped.
He was thrown against the dresser with a sickening thud.
The man gasped for air, holding his bleeding arm.
He looked down at the dog.
Then he looked at the terrified mother.
His eyes were cold. Furious.
He reached down to pick up the crowbar.
"Shut up," he hissed at the mother, raising the bar.
The mother screamed, covering her face.
But the blow never came.
From under the bed, a small sound echoed.
A tiny, confused whimper.
The baby.
The man froze. He looked at the bedskirt.
He realized what was under there.
A cruel, twisted smile appeared under his mask.
He changed his direction.
He stepped over the dog, walking toward the side of the bed.
He reached down, grabbing the edge of the bedskirt.
Ready to pull it up.
The mother shrieked, scrambling across the mattress.
But she wasn't fast enough.
The man ripped the fabric back.
Exposing the baby.
He reached out with a massive, gloved hand.
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But the golden retriever wasn't dead.
And a good boy never breaks a promise.
