Chapter 1 - Justin

They say when you’re backed into a corner, you either fight or flee, but here I am, whispering sweet nothings to a wild dog that’s got more bite than even I'm used to. The rottweiler in front of me snaps and bares his teeth as he pins his ears back, lowers his hindquarters, and readies himself. The chain attached to the dog's collar rattles. His growl gets deeper. There’s a challenge in his gaze, a dare to see who will blink first.

"Now, now, boy. I know you're mad. You have every right to be, but you're safe now."

The poor dog really does have every right to be mad. He didn't deserve any of the shit he was put through. Animal control picked him up on a raid at a drug house and brought him over to the shelter. They said it was a dogfighting ring and that the other dogs were in really bad shape. Axl has had a rough go of it, and I'm not just talking about the scars on his muzzle and the torn ears. There's a look in his eyes. Something broken. He's a survivor. Somehow, I'm going to convince him that I'm on his side and that it's safe to relax now.

Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, his hind legs ready to bolt the minute I make any sudden movements. But I don’t back down. I'm the guy who’s faced the toughest of challenges, both in the military and here at the shelter. It's time to put my money where my mouth is.

I crouch before the hulking dog, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. One wrong move could spell disaster, but I extend my hand anyway, palm up in a gesture of peace. Sweat beads on my brow as I wait, and every nerve in my body is stretched taut like a bowstring.

The dog's eyes meet mine with a wary look, its nostrils flaring as it sniffs the air for signs of weakness. I hold my breath, praying that it won't try to snap at my hand. This is it, the moment of truth, where the line between triumph and tragedy blurs into nothingness.

“Easy there, fella,” I murmur. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

And then, just when I’m beginning to doubt myself, something shifts. Axl tilts his head, and some tension eases from its body. I seize the opportunity, inching closer with low, cautious steps. Every fiber of my being screams in protest, warning me of the danger that lurks a single step away.

But I ignore the voice of doubt, focusing instead on the dog before me. One more step, and I can rest my hand against its nose. With trembling fingers, I reach out a little more until my hand hovers just inches from the beast’s jaws. For a moment, everything in the world stops, and a single drop of sweat rolls down the side of my face.

And then, in a heartbeat that stretches into eternity, the unthinkable happens.

The dog touches my fingertips with his nose, just a tap before he shies away again. It's not much, but it's progress, and I'll take it. A sense of relief washes over me, tempered with a surge of cautious optimism. But before I can revel in this small victory, a voice breaks through the tense silence.

"Damn, Justin, I knew you were good, but I thought that dog was too far gone even for you," Sarah's voice carries across the yard. "I didn't think it was possible, but you managed to charm the pants off it."

I glance over my shoulder to see her leaning against the shelter's building. She has a crooked smile on her face, one hand on her hip and the other holding a clipboard.

I offer her a wry smile. "Just doing my job," I reply. My voice is rough with exhaustion and suppressed tension.

She saunters over to where I'm kneeling beside Axl, but she keeps a safe distance from the rottie. "Well, you sure know how to handle yourself around a tough case. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two sometime. I mean, if you're not too busy."

"Maybe," I say with a noncommittal shrug. I don't want to encourage her, but there's no reason to be outright cruel.

Sarah has been trying to get me to go out with her for a while now. At first, she was cute enough, but now her advances are starting to become a bit obnoxious. Still, I feel bad turning her down again. She's a nice girl. Maybe if she wasn't so desperate to get into my pants, we could've been friends.

Still undeterred, she continues. "I was thinking maybe we could celebrate your victory tonight. Dinner, perhaps? My treat."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and plaster on a polite smile instead. "Thanks, Sarah, but I think I'll pass. Got some errands to run after work."

Her smile slips for a moment, but she quickly recovers. "Next time, then."

I nod, and she heads back inside. I turn my attention back to the rottweiler beside me. "Looks like I've still got it, huh, boy?" I quip, earning a curious tilt of Axl's head in response. "All right. Ready to call it a day? We've made some good strides today. You're getting better, but I don't think you're quite ready to face the world yet."

Axl lets out a low whine as if in agreement, and I laugh. "Don't worry, you'll be out there soon. We'll get there, I promise."

I stand up and gather the extended leash before I guide him back to his kennel. It's going to take a lot of time and effort to fix him, but I'm up for the challenge. If anyone can make this dog come around, it's me.

After I get the dog settled in for the night, I head out to the front to clock out and head out to my truck. Once I'm done, I head over to the store I own, a pet supplies shop called Pawsitively Purr-fect. It sits on the outskirts of town, a modest building nestled between a bakery and a hardware store. I opened it not long after I started working at the shelter, and even with the time it takes to run the place, I can't get myself to retire from my old job just yet. I'm just too damn good at what I do, and besides, I like taking care of animals.

As I pull into the parking lot, I feel a sense of pride swell in my chest. My store is a success. I might not be a rich man, but I'm doing all right, and I've got a stable life and two happy dogs of my own. This business may not be as glamorous as my days in the military, but it's a labor of love nonetheless.

The bell rings above the door as I enter. It's a small space, and a quick glance reveals that things are just as I left them this morning. All the shelves are stocked, and the cash register sits in its proper place. Stormy and Snow, my two German shepherds, greet me with eager tails and excited whines.

"Hey, fellas," I say as I ruffle their fur. "Miss me?"

They both jump up and down, and I chuckle. These two are retired military dogs, like me, but they've both got a lot more energy than they should, given how old they are. It's good for business, though. They're well-trained and get along well with our customers' dogs, and they add a bit of life to the place.

Stormy licks my face, and Snow paws at my legs. "Okay, okay, I'm not gonna lie,” I say. “I missed you, too. C'mon, let's check on our employees."

I straighten up and head towards the back of the shop, where I find my latest hire, a teenager named Jake, restocking shelves with bags of dog food. He's been with me for a few months now, and I have to admit that he's a hard worker. He's good with the customers, and the dogs like him. Too bad he's not a shifter. We could always use more young pups with strong backs in Stardust Hollow.

"Hey, Jake," I call out, drawing his attention away from his task. "How's it going?"

"Hey, Justin! Figured that was you, given how late it's getting. Everything's good. Just trying to keep up with the inventory."

I nod in approval, glancing around the store and noting how clean and orderly everything is. "Looks like you're doing a great job. I appreciate all your hard work."

Jake beams at the praise. "Thanks, Justin. I really enjoy working here."

I clap him on the shoulder before heading over to the counter to check the day's sales. As I tally up the numbers, Stormy and Snow nuzzle against my legs, seeking attention.

"All right, you two." I reach down and scratch them each behind the ears. "I'll give you some love in a minute. Let me just finish up here."

With a satisfied sigh, I lean back against the counter, watching as Jake moves about the shop with the easy confidence of youth. Despite his age, he's proven to be a valuable asset, always eager to learn and quick to lend a hand. "How were the boys for you today? On their best behavior, I hope."

"Actually, Justin, there was a bit of trouble earlier," Jake admits as he stacks a box of dog biscuits on a shelf. "Your boys got into it with someone from the diner down the alley."

I straighten up. "What happened?"

Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Some new waitress from the diner behind us started yelling at them to get out of the alley when I brought them out there to use the bathroom. Said they were scaring customers or something."

"And what did you do?" I demand. Everybody in this neighborhood knows my dogs. They don't go around causing trouble, and they certainly don't scare people.

Jake shrugs, looking somewhat sheepish. "I tried to explain that they're well-behaved and wouldn't hurt anyone, but she wouldn't listen. Things got a bit heated, and she actually tried to kick at Snow, but I managed to get them back inside before it escalated further."

"Thanks, Jake," I say, letting out a long breath. "I appreciate you looking out for them. Do you know who this waitress is?"

Jake shakes his head. "Sorry, Justin. I didn't catch her name, but she's young, maybe in her early twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes."

I make a mental note and head for the door. "Thanks, Jake. I'll take care of it."

I shove the door open as I storm out. My blood is boiling. How dare someone try to kick my dogs out of the alley? They're harmless, for crying out loud! As I march toward the diner, my mind races with all the things I want to say to whoever had the audacity to threaten Stormy and Snow.

Rounding the corner, I practically collide with a woman who fits Jake's description. A young woman with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and brown eyes. She's younger than I expected, and prettier, too. Her nose is button-shaped, and her skin is smooth and pale. A smattering of freckles crosses the bridge of her nose, and her lips are a lush shade of pink. Her tight uniform shirt shows off her perky breasts and narrow waist. She looks like she could be a model, but she's probably just a spoiled brat who thinks she owns the block.

"You!" I practically growl, pointing a finger in her direction. "You're the one who tried to kick my dogs out of the alley, aren't you?"

She stares up at me, mouth agape, and her eyes widen. I'm a big man, and I know it. Most people get out of my way when I'm pissed, and I don't have to resort to using my size to intimidate people. But I smell the air around her, and she's a shifter, too, so she doesn't step away until I'm practically on top of her.

"I, um, well," she stammers.

"Those dogs are harmless," I cut her off. "They're retired military dogs. They're good boys, and they're not bothering anybody."

"Sir, I─"

"Listen, missy, if you had any sense in you, you won't even look at them again, are we clear?" I seethe.

Her nostrils flare, and she tosses the tray she's holding onto the sidewalk beside one of the outside tables. Damn, she's hot, but I won't be taken by her. She's a little spitfire, that's for sure, but I can feel my wolf beneath the surface, and the animal is demanding that I show this little snot who's boss.

I step closer, getting into her face. "Now, listen here, lady. You don't mess with my dogs, understand?"

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and hikes up an eyebrow. "Or what, exactly?"