Chapter 19

chapter

nineteen

When the knock came, Rylan was staring at the empty bottle of vodka in his hand. If he smashed it against the sink and sliced the glass shard across his wrists, would it feel as satisfying as it did in his head? The sleeping pills had been an accident, but now he wished they had done the job. Whatever came next had to be better than this .

The knock was sharp, loud, insistent—Zak’s knock, as unmistakable as the man himself. The kind of knock that said he wasn’t going away until you opened the door.

Rylan didn’t want to open the door. Hell, he didn’t even want to be in his own skin right now.

“Go away,” he muttered and closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around the neck of the empty bottle. Maybe if he stayed silent, Zak would give up and leave him to his misery. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was futile.

"Rylan, open up! I know you're in there, you stubborn bastard." Zak's muffled voice carried through the door, tinged with equal parts frustration and concern. “I will kick this door down.”

Yeah, the guy wasn’t bluffing and that metal leg of his would do a lot of damage that Rylan didn’t want to deal with.

With a curse, he pushed himself up from the kitchen floor and stalked to the door. His head throbbed with every step, the hangover from last night colliding with this evening’s bad decisions. He should’ve paced himself better, but pacing required giving a damn, and giving a damn was exhausting.

He yanked the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. “What?”

Zak stood on the porch, his dark eyes narrowed as he took in Rylan's disheveled appearance and white-knuckled grip on the bottle. "I'm here to stop you from doing something stupid."

Rylan rasped out a bitter laugh. “Too late for that.”

“Yeah, I see that. When did it start?”

Rylan didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to relive the night they rescued Pierce and Rhiannon, when his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and all he’d wanted was to shut everything inside him off for a few hours. He’d taken a drink that night, his first in six years, and he hadn’t stopped. But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell Zak he’d spent the better part of the last three months drunk.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Zak stepped inside like he owned the place. At his side was a medium-sized male dog with a sleek, strong body. His coat was striking, a rich mix of black and warm rust with clean white markings that painted his chest, muzzle, and the tips of his paws like deliberate brushstrokes. His eyes, a deep amber that seemed to hold an almost human understanding, watched Rylan steadily, unblinking. His ears were floppy triangles on either side of his head, and his long tail curled up over his back. He trotted in like he belonged, his head turning to take in the room with quiet curiosity.

“What’s with the dog?”

“This is Valor,” Zak said. “He’s your dog.”

Rylan blinked. No way he’d heard that right. His brain was just sluggish from the booze and he was missing something. “My dog?”

“Yeah. Yours.”

He let out a harsh laugh that scraped his throat raw. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind if you think I want a dog.”

“You don’t want a dog, but you need one.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” he bit out, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And I sure as hell don’t need a dog.”

Zak turned to face him, arms crossed, his expression as immovable as a mountain. “You’re drowning, Ry. Everyone can see it, and we’re all throwing you lifelines, but you’re too damn stubborn to grab one.”

“I’m fine.” The words were automatic, a reflex, and they tasted like ash on his tongue. He wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine in months. But admitting that felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff, and he wasn’t ready for the fall.

Zak’s eyes narrowed. “All of those empty bottles say otherwise.”

Heat rose up the back of his neck, shame and anger twisting in his gut. “You have no right?—”

“I found you laying on that couch half dead three days ago,” Zak interrupted, his voice sharp as he pointed toward the living room. “So don’t you tell me I have no right to worry about you. And now your sister’s scared out of her mind, too. She came to me in tears because she doesn’t know how to help you. None of us do. You’re shutting us out, drinking yourself into a stupor every night, taking too many sleeping pills… and you have the balls to stand there and tell me you’re fucking fine?”

“Rhiannon needs to mind her own damn business,” Rylan snapped. “And so do you.”

Zak didn’t back down. He never did. “You’re my business, Rylan. You made yourself my business when you joined my team. Whether you like it or not.”

“So, what, you’re gonna save me now? The great Zak Hendricks, swooping in to rescue another broken mess? Newsflash, I’m not one of your strays.”

“No, you’re not. You’re my friend, and I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself.” Zak paused and drew a deep breath, obviously reining in his temper before he continued. “I’ve been where you are. Exactly where you’re standing with a head full of noise and more booze than blood in my veins. Anna showed up on my doorstep with Ranger and gave me a choice. Now I’m showing up for you with Valor and giving you the same choice.”

Rylan’s throat tightened, his chest ached, and the anger surged, desperate for release. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have to.” Zak’s calm tone was like fuel on the fire.

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Zak didn’t move. “No.”

The single word hung heavy in the air, a challenge Rylan wasn’t sure he had the strength to meet. His vision blurred, rage and shame warring for control. He wanted to throw Zak out, to yell until his throat was raw, to do anything to push him away.

But his gaze fell to the dog.

Valor was sitting at his feet now, staring up at him with those sharp, unwavering eyes. The dog didn’t flinch, didn’t back away, didn’t do anything but look at him with a quiet patience that cracked something deep inside.

“I don’t want him.” Rylan turned away, his fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle still clutched in his hand. He should throw it out, hide the evidence of his weakness, but he couldn't seem to make himself let go of it. The thought of breaking the bottle and slicing open his wrists still taunted him, a siren's call he was struggling to resist. He closed his eyes and fought against the dark urge.

Valor let out a soft whine, and Rylan felt a warm, wet nose nudge against his hand. Startled, he looked down to see the dog pressing close, his gaze fixed on Rylan's face with an intensity that stole his breath.

"He's not taking no for an answer," Zak said quietly. "And neither am I. Valor’s staying. You don’t have to like it, but he’s staying. One night. That’s all I’m asking. If you don’t want him tomorrow, I’ll take him back.”

Rylan's throat worked as he swallowed, his grip on the bottle loosening. "I'm not... I can't..." The words stuck, lodged somewhere between his heart and his tongue.

"One night,” Zak repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance making it clear that this wasn’t up for negotiation.

Rylan wanted to tell him to fuck off, to grab the dog with the too-knowing eyes and throw them both out.

But instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, “Fine. One night.”

Zak’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. “Good choice.” He bent to ruffle Valor’s ears. “You take care of our friend, all right?”

Valor’s tail thumped against the floor as he leaned into Zak’s touch. Then, with a final pat, Zak straightened and headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, glancing back.

“He’ll help you tonight.”

Rylan didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. Zak sighed, and then he was gone.

The dog turned those too-intelligent eyes toward him again.

“What are you looking at?”

Valor's tail thumped once, but otherwise, he remained still, steady, waiting. His eyes flicked to the bottle, as if saying, “What are you doing with that?”

There was no judgment in the animal’s gaze. No condemnation. Just curiosity, but it made shame burn through him. His throat closed up and he tore his gaze away. His fingers flexed around the bottle's neck as a reckless anger flared in his chest. What did this dog know? What right did Zak have to dump this animal on him and expect it to fix anything?

In a surge of bitter fury, he raised the bottle, ready to smash it against the edge of the kitchen counter. The glass would shatter, jagged pieces flying, and he could take one?—

A sharp bark cracked through the red haze. Valor was on his feet now, hackles raised, lips curled back from gleaming teeth. A low, warning growl rumbled in his chest as he stared Rylan down with fierce, unflinching eyes.

Valor took a step forward, then another, closing the distance between them with purposeful strides. Rylan remained frozen, his arm still raised, the bottle gripped tight. The dog's eyes never left his, and in their amber depths, Rylan saw a challenge. A demand.

"Don't," those eyes seemed to say. "Don't you dare."

Slowly, carefully, Valor stretched his neck and gently grasped Rylan's wrist in his mouth, applying just enough pressure to make his point. Rylan's fingers went slack, and the bottle slipped from his grasp. It hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling across the hardwood until it bumped against the base of the cabinets.

Valor released his wrist and sat back on his haunches, his point made. Rylan stared at him, his heart hammering against his ribs. The dog had stopped him. Had seen the darkness rising up to swallow him whole and had stepped in to pull him back from the edge.

A shudder racked his frame, and his legs buckled. He sank to the floor, his back pressed against the cabinets. Valor closed the remaining distance between them and laid down, resting his head on Rylan's thigh. The warm weight was grounding, an anchor in the storm raging inside him.

Rylan's hand shook as he lowered it to the dog's head, his fingers sinking into the thick, silky fur. Valor let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into the touch.

"You're a persistent little shit, aren't you?" Rylan finally said, his voice rough. Valor's tail thumped once in response, and he could have sworn the dog was smiling.

No. It was too much. It was… all too much.

He pushed the dog off his lap and shoved to his feet. “Don’t get cocky. You’re still gone in the morning.”

The dog didn’t react. Just laid his head down on his paws and closed his eyes, still smiling that enigmatic doggie smile.

Rylan ignored him and staggered toward his bedroom, his head pounding from the alcohol, his body aching with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to undress. The room spun around him, and he closed his eyes, willing the vertigo to pass.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in this bed sober. Usually, he drank until he passed out, seeking oblivion in the bottom of a bottle. But tonight, with Valor's watchful presence in the other room, he felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Shame. Regret. A desperate, aching longing for a different life. One where he wasn't drowning in guilt and self-loathing. One where he could look at himself in the mirror without wanting to put his fist through the glass.

He rolled onto his side, and his prosthetic arm dug painfully into his ribs. With a grunt, he sat up and fumbled with the straps, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. Finally, he managed to detach it and toss it onto the floor. It landed with a heavy thunk, the metal gleaming dully in the faint light filtering through the curtains.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat. What a fucking joke. He was a broken mess, inside and out. Missing pieces, held together by scar tissue and sheer stubbornness. And now Zak thought a dog could fix him? Put him back together like some kind of puzzle?

He laid back down, his arm thrown over his eyes. Sleep tugged at him, but he resisted, not wanting to face the nightmares that always lurked in the dark.

But tonight, exhaustion won out.