Halvorsen raised a hand. «Enough. He stays here. End of discussion.»
Thor sensed the tension, and the hair along his back bristled. His tail stiffened, his paws planted firmly on the ground. A soft growl threatened to build again—not out of aggression, but fear. Fear of losing the one person he had connected with in a year.
Halvorsen pointed to the handlers. «Remove Mr. Walker from the kennel. Now.»
As they approached, Thor stepped forward, blocking them with a deep, warning growl. Ethan touched his fur. «Easy, boy.»
But even he could feel it. Thor wasn’t just resisting. He was refusing to lose someone again. The handlers hesitated at the director’s order, fear flashing in their eyes as Thor planted himself firmly between Ethan and anyone who tried to approach. His stance was protective, unyielding, a wall of muscle and emotion.
But Halvorsen’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. «Trank team’s on standby. I want that dog contained.»
«No!» Ethan shouted, stepping forward with surprising force.
Thor reacted instantly, pressing his body protectively against Ethan’s legs, teeth bared at the advancing handlers.
Halvorsen scowled. «This is exactly why he is dangerous.»
Karen stepped in front of Ethan. «Sir, please, don’t escalate this. Thor is reacting to the threat you’re creating.»
Halvorsen ignored her. «Get Mr. Walker out of here.»
Two handlers approached cautiously. Thor’s growl deepened, vibrating through the concrete floor. His chest heaved, his breathing frantic, his body trembling with the terror of being separated again.
Ethan knelt beside him, whispering softly. «It’s okay, boy. I’m right here.»
Thor’s eyes, wild and desperate, locked onto Ethan’s blind but steady gaze. But the handlers advanced, and Thor snapped, not at Ethan, but at the poles aimed toward him. Metal clanged as he bit down, shaking violently. The room erupted as staff scrambled back.
«We can’t control him!» a handler shouted.
«Pull Mr. Walker out now,» Halvorsen barked.
Karen grabbed Ethan’s arm. «Please, Ethan, please. If you stay, they’ll sedate him, or worse.»
Ethan hesitated, Thor trembling beneath his hand. Another handler reached in, and Thor lunged, teeth clashing against the pole inches from the man’s wrist.
Ethan’s voice broke. «I don’t want to leave him like this.»
«I know,» Karen whispered, «but if you don’t, he’ll see them as a threat to you. And he won’t stop.»
Ethan slowly rose. Thor whimpered, a heartbreaking, choking sound, pressing himself into Ethan’s legs as if begging him not to go.
Ethan knelt once more, cupping Thor’s face gently. «I’ll come back,» Ethan murmured. «I promise.»
Thor whined louder, nudging Ethan frantically, refusing to let go. Karen tugged softly. Ethan stepped away.
The moment Ethan crossed the threshold, Thor’s entire body changed. His ears pinned back. His breath hitched. His eyes went wild.
Then the breakdown began. Thor hurled himself at the bars with terrifying power, snarling, barking, smashing his body against the cage so violently the steel rattled. The handlers shouted. Karen gasped. Halvorsen swore under his breath.
Thor wasn’t attacking. He was grieving in the only way he knew how. Desperate. Violent. Heartbroken. Because Ethan was gone.
