“He really changed,” Sarah said softly, watching the dog. “I was so scared of him that night. Now… I can’t imagine sleeping without him in the house.”
I flipped a burger on the grill and took a sip of my coffee.
“He didn’t change, honey,” I said. “He was always a good dog. He just finally found a pack worth protecting.”
I thought about Julian. He was currently serving a ten-year sentence in a state penitentiary. His lawyers had tried to argue entrapment, tried to argue self-defense. But the pictures of the cage were too damning. The jury hated him.
He was in a 6×8 cell now. He ate when the guards told him to eat. He slept when they told him to sleep. He was learning what it felt like to be on the other end of the leash.
And unlike Sarah, he didn’t have anyone coming to jump the fence and save him.
Brutus suddenly stood up, ears fully perked, looking toward the woodsline at the back of the property. His body went rigid. A low, warning growl rumbled in his chest.
I set down my spatula. I watched his body language. Tail high. Hackles slightly raised.
“What is it, boy?” I asked.
He stared into the trees for a long moment. Then, he relaxed. He let out a huff of air and shook his body, the tension leaving him. A deer bounded out of the brush and ran away.
“False alarm,” I said to Sarah.
I walked over and patted his massive side. He leaned into me, heavy and warm.
“At ease, soldier,” I whispered. “We’re safe.”
But as I walked back to the grill, I checked the knife clipped to my belt. Just a habit.
Peace is a luxury. We had earned it. But readiness? Readiness is a lifestyle. And in this house, the Alpha and his Wolf were always ready.
