Chapter 3 - THE AFTERMATH AND THE OFFER
The sirens wailing in the distance sounded like salvation.
Within ten minutes, the front of Second Chance Pet Supply looked like a crime scene straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster. Unmarked black SUVs blocked the street, flashing emergency strobes cutting through the sheets of pouring rain. Local police cruisers arrived moments later, but as soon as the officers stepped out and caught sight of Roman Calder standing casually amid the shattered bags of dog food, their expressions shifted instantly.
A senior detective with graying hair and a permanent scowl pushed through the glass door, took one look at Kovalev—who was currently handcuffed and being hauled out by Roman’s private guards under the watchful glare of Boston PD—and then looked at Roman.
"Calder," the detective grunted, wiping rain from his face. "I see you've been having a quiet evening."
"Routine property dispute, Marcus," Roman replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The trespasser is all yours. Make sure he stays secured downtown until my legal team arrives to review the charges."
Detective Marcus glanced over at me, standing behind the counter with my apron covered in dust and my hands still shaking from adrenaline withdrawal. "And the civilian?"
"The civilian," Roman said, stepping between the detective and me with deliberate casualness, "is under my personal protection. Leave her statement for the morning."
Before Marcus could argue, Roman turned his back on him and walked over to where Titan was now sitting calmly beside me, accepting a gentle scratch behind the ears that I was offering to calm my own nerves.
"He likes you," Roman observed, watching my fingers massage the thick fur around the dog's collar.
"He has good taste," I muttered, trying to steady my breathing. "Unlike some billionaires who let armed mercenaries track them into a mom-and-pop pet store."
A low rumble of amusement vibrated in Roman’s chest. "Fair point. That oversight has already been corrected. Kovalev won't be bothering anyone else, and his associates are currently being rounded up across the harbor."
I looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the expensive Italian wool suit now stained with dust, and that stark scar cutting through his eyebrow. Up close, the aura of danger radiating off him was palpable, but beneath it was an unmistakable intelligence.
"So," I said, leaning back against the counter. "What happens now? Do I get put into witness protection, or do you just buy my store and bulldoze it to cover your tracks?"
Roman tilted his head, his pale eyes searching my face. "Do you want me to buy your store?"
"No," I answered immediately. "I built this place from scratch. It's the only thing I have that's mine."
"Then it remains yours," Roman said quietly. He reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out a heavy, cream-colored card embossed with a minimalist silver crest and a direct private phone number, and laid it gently on the counter beside my register. "If anyone ever steps foot in here again with hostile intentions, you call this number. My men will be here before the phone finishes its first ring."
I looked down at the card, then back up at him. "And Titan?"
Roman looked down at the massive dog, who had rested his heavy chin back onto my foot as if claiming me permanently. A strange, complex emotion flickered across Roman’s scarred features—something that looked almost like reluctance.
"Titan stays," Roman said softly.
"He lives here now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He stays with you," Roman corrected, adjusting his cuffs. "At least until my security detail finishes sweeping my Beacon Hill estate for remaining hostiles. Besides... it's clear he trusts you more than he trusts his own handlers right now. I won't force him into an environment where he's on edge."
Before I could process the sheer absurdity of a multi-billionaire casually leaving a 130-pound tactical war dog in my tiny pet supply store as a permanent houseguest, Roman turned toward the door.
"Rest up, Miss...?"
"Harper," I supplied. "Maya Harper."
"Miss Harper," Roman repeated, a slight nod of his head acknowledging my name. "We will speak tomorrow."
With that, he walked out into the rain, climbing into the back of a waiting black SUV that vanished into the Boston night like a ghost.
May you like
I stood there in the quiet store, surrounded by spilled kibble, broken ceramic, and a massive black Cane Corso fast asleep across my feet.
Little did I know, Roman Calder leaving Titan with me wasn't an act of charity. It was the opening move in a dangerous game, and the real storm hadn't even started yet.
