Chapter 5 - Unlocking the Cage
Director Cowell looked like he was about to suffer a full cardiac arrest. "Mr. Sterling, absolutely not! If she enters that ward and is mauled or killed, Pine Ridge will face a catastrophic liability suit! The insurance company will—"
"The insurance company won't know a damn thing about it, because this facility is privately funded by the Vance trust, and I am the trust," Sterling interrupted, his voice cutting through Cowell’s panic like a razor blade. He pulled a heavy brass-and-electronic key fob from his pocket and tossed it to Marcus, the senior handler who had silently materialized back down the hall.
Marcus caught the fob, looking at Sterling with a grim, hard expression. "You're making a mistake, boss."
"Open it, Marcus," Sterling commanded softly.
Marcus walked past Tessa, his boots heavy on the floor. He didn't look at her, but as he reached for the digital keypad beside the reinforced door, he muttered under his breath, "If he lunges, drop flat on your face and cover your neck. Don't run."
"Thank you," Tessa whispered.
The keypad beeped—a sequence of four sharp tones. The heavy electromagnetic lock disengaged with a loud, mechanical clack that echoed down the corridor like a gunshot.
Marcus gripped the steel handle, pulled the heavy door inward just twelve inches, and instantly stepped back, his hand resting defensively on the tranquilizer baton at his belt.
The smell that poured out of the room was overpowering—stale musk, dried sweat, and the unmistakable, poignant odor of a creature living in absolute terror.
From the darkness of the kennel interior, a pair of milky, unseeing eyes caught the pale fluorescent light of the hallway.
The mastiff didn't lunge.
He didn't roar.
He rose slowly on massive, trembling legs—a mountain of dark gray muscle, scarred hide, and bone that looked as though it had been carved from granite. At one hundred and forty pounds, he towered over Tessa, his massive head held low, sniffing the air with frantic, quivering intensity.
Sterling instinctively reached inside his jacket toward a concealed shoulder holster.
"Don't move," Tessa whispered without turning around.
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She didn't stand up. Instead, she slid off her feet, dropping deliberately down onto her hands and knees on the cold linoleum, lowering her profile so she wasn't looming over the terrified animal as a threat.
The mastiff’s ears twitched. A deep, menacing growl began to rumble deep within his chest, rattling the metal bowls bolted to the far wall. He took one heavy, dragging step forward out of the shadows.
