Harder this time.
The leash went taut, the nylon strap digging into Walter’s palm as the dog leaned forward with a determination that didn’t match his weakened state. It wasn’t frantic or aggressive—it was focused. Intentional.
Walter followed his gaze.
And that’s when he heard it.
Oliver’s scream.
It wasn’t just loud—it was raw, the kind of sound that carries pure distress, the kind that makes your chest tighten even if you don’t know the person making it. Walter’s expression shifted, something old and instinctive flickering behind his eyes.
Titan pulled again.
This time, Walter didn’t resist.
They approached the door, which was partially open, and the scene inside unfolded in fragments—Elena on the floor, a nurse adjusting something on the monitor, Marcus standing frozen near the foot of the bed, and Oliver in the center of it all, caught in a storm his small body couldn’t escape.
Walter hesitated for a moment, because even after everything he had seen in his life, there are still lines you don’t cross lightly.
