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A bark erupts behind me. Then another. The entire kennel wing erupts into noise.

I straighten slowly.

Several dogs pace behind their kennel doors. Winston's former kennel neighbor, a shepherd mix named Buddy, stands rigid near the front gate, his ears pinned.

“That's odd,” I utter.

“What is?” Jules asks.

“Buddy never acts like this.”

Jules glances toward the kennels, planting his hands on his hips. “Huh.”

Before either of us can think much about it, one of Alexei's security men appears at the entrance. Sam has been assigned to me for the past two days. Former military, broad shoulders, quiet manner, and a permanently serious face.

He removes his sunglasses. “There was a white cargo van parked across the street for maybe seven or eight minutes earlier.”

My stomach twists. Seven or eight minutes shouldn’t make me nervous. Neither should a white cargo van. Lately, though, it feels like my nerves have forgotten the difference between caution and fear.

“Did you get a plate number?” I ask.

Sam nods. “Luka's checking it now.”

I release a breath. “Thank you.”

He gives a single nod before returning outside. J

Jules waits until he's gone. “You think it's connected?”

“I don't know.”

And that's the truth. The constant uncertainty is wearing me down. These days, I notice every unfamiliar face, every car that circles the block one too many times, every strange phone call that comes through the shelter.

I force myself to exhale. “We can't live scared.”

“No,” Jules agrees. “But we also can't pretend none of this is happenin’.”

I know. Lord, I know. Still, life keeps moving, and so do we.

I scrub a hand across my face. “Well, the dogs still need feedin’, so I guess we'd better keep goin’.”

I turn back toward the row of kennels, mentally rearranging the rest of the afternoon for the hundredth time today. I pause long enough to rest a hand against my stomach. Nobody at the shelter knows I’m pregnant except Jules. Not even Mama. The secret feels enormous and precious all at once, filling me equally with joy and terror every time I think about it.

He gives me a pointed look. “You need a break.”

I unlatch the next kennel and step inside. “I'm fine.”

“You look tired,” he says, following me in with the cleaning bucket.

I shoot him a look over my shoulder while replacing a water bowl. “I always look tired.”

“Fair point.” Jules grins.

I bump his shoulder with mine as I pass. “We can both take a break when closing time gets here.”

Jules rolls his eyes and sprays disinfectant onto the kennel floor. “You said that yesterday.”

“And the day before.” I reach for the mop leaning against the wall.