Chapter 3
The silence that followed Phantom’s transformation was somehow more oppressive than his earlier growling, filled with questions that demanded answers none of them possessed.
Holden approached slowly, each step measured and deliberate, acutely aware that he was entering territory where his authority meant nothing compared to whatever connection had just manifested. Phantom’s eyes opened as his master drew near, but the Cane Corso made no move to leave the child’s side. The dog positioned his bulk as a barrier between her and all others, a protective stance that spoke of instincts deeper than training.
Chapter 5
The girl’s eyes met Holden’s across the remaining distance, and the crime lord found himself cataloging details with the analytical precision he applied to evaluating threats. She couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds soaking wet, malnutrition evident in the hollow spaces beneath her cheekbones. Her wrists appeared too fragile to support even her diminished body weight. But those eyes held something that transcended physical vulnerability — a depth of experience that shouldn’t exist in someone so young. Her lips were chapped and bleeding at the corners.
“His name is Umbra,” the girl said quietly, her voice hoarse from disuse or cold or both. “Not Phantom. Umbra del Passato. My mama named him before she gave him away to keep him safe.” She looked up at Holden with those ancient, weary eyes set in that child’s face. “I promised her I’d find him. I promised I’d make sure he was okay.” Her small hand, buried in the dog’s fur, tightened almost imperceptibly. “Is he okay? Have you truly been good to him?”
Holden Cross, a man who had ordered violence without hesitation for two decades, found himself unable to immediately answer a seven-year-old’s simple question about his own dog’s welfare.
