The German Shepherd lifted its head. Its ears flicked—but it didn’t growl.
Didn’t bare teeth. Instead, it pressed closer to Don Ernesto’s leg, placing its body between him and the approaching danger, as if instinctively choosing a side.
Valeria’s jaw tightened.
“That dog is active K9,” she said. “His name is Delta. He disappeared during training an hour ago. If he’s here with you, sir, protocol says we treat this as a potential incident.”
“I—I didn’t take him,” Don Ernesto stammered. “I came to watch the sunrise. He ran to me. Straight to me… like he recognized me.”
He fell silent.
Because at that moment, Delta rested his snout gently against the old man’s thigh.
Not submissive.
Not defensive.
Familiar.
Valeria raised her hand sharply.
“Prepare,” she ordered. “If the dog reacts, nobody advances.”
The air thickened.
A safety catch clicked.
A radio hissed.
“Commander,” Mateo whispered, eyes wide, “the dog isn’t showing aggression. He’s… calm.”
Valeria didn’t look away.
“That’s exactly the problem,” she said quietly. “Delta doesn’t act like this with strangers.”
She took a single, deliberate step forward—slow, controlled, like a command given a thousand times before.
But for the first time in her career…
She wasn’t sure who was giving the orders anymore.
Because some bonds aren’t trained.
They’re remembered.
—K9, attack!
The fog seemed to stand still. The sea, too.
But the dog did not attack.
Instead, he turned his head toward Valeria with a look that wasn’t confusion. It was… offense. A warning. Then, with a decisiveness that made several people’s blood run cold, the German Shepherd positioned himself completely between Don Ernesto and the officers, paws firmly planted, back bristling.
And he growled. Not at the old man. At them.
“What…?” whispered an agent.
“Delta, hook up! That’s an order!” Valeria shouted, and for the first time her voice cracked a little.
The dog did not obey. He clung even closer to Don Ernesto, as if covering him.
There was a second, barely a second, when everyone understood something terrifying: the threat wasn’t the old man. The threat was the truth they weren’t seeing.
Don Ernesto slowly raised his hands, palms open.
“Please… I don’t understand,” she said in a whisper. “Look… look at him. He’s not doing anything wrong.”
The German Shepherd glanced at him sideways, as if to confirm the man was still there. Then he fixed his gaze back on the line of weapons. It was a living shield.
Valeria swallowed and lowered the weapon slightly. Her eyes involuntarily fell upon the dog’s harness. At the bottom, where the material touched the skin, a scar was visible.
Don Ernesto, as if guided by something from afar, stretched out his hand and carefully lifted the harness. He touched the mark with his fingertips.
He went pale.
“No…” she whispered. “That scar…”
Mateo frowned.
—Do you know her?
Don Ernesto gasped for breath. His hands began to tremble.
—I had a partner… years ago. In the army. He wasn’t with the police. He was… he was one of us. A German Shepherd. We called him Shadow.
Valeria blinked, tense.
—That dog’s name is Delta, sir.
“Delta was his radio name,” Don Ernesto replied, his voice breaking. “But when we were alone, when… when things got bad… I called him Shadow. Because he was always with me.”
The silence grew heavy. Even the sea seemed to be listening.
Don Ernesto squeezed his eyes shut, and the pier disappeared for a moment.
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