Chapter 3
Finn
The miles disappeared under my tires as I drove further from the Scottish Highlands, each kilometer taking me closer to a responsibility I wasn’t sure I deserved, let alone wanted.
Charlie’s final request echoed in my mind like a persistent ghost. Not that he’d asked it of me while he’d still been living.
It had been part of his will, and a request left with his superiors.
Honestly, I was surprised they’d agreed to it.
But without Charlie, it was possible that Ajax could or would no longer perform his duty.
Which would make him a tool that they’d consider broken.
Better they retire the dog than push him to function under circumstances that would get him or anyone he was with killed.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. What the hell had Charlie been thinking?
Me, of all people, to take his service dog?
The man knew my history. Knew why I avoided attachments like live wires.
Because everything I touched either left or broke.
Yet here I was, driving to collect a Belgian Malinois who’d lost his handler and probably had more emotional baggage than I did. Which was saying something.
The military kennel came into view—a modest farmhouse with outbuildings that had been converted for training and housing service dogs. My stomach knotted as I pulled into the gravel driveway.
I killed the engine. “This is a mistake.”
Before I could talk myself into turning around, a stocky man with a weathered face emerged from the main building. Sergeant Donovan. We’d met at the funeral. Well and truly caught now, I slid out of my 4x4.
“Patterson.” He nodded, extending a hand. “Right on time.”
“Traffic was light.” I shook his hand, scanning the property. “How’s he doing?”
Donovan’s expression softened. “As well as can be expected. Hasn’t eaten much since Charlie passed. Keeps looking for him.”
My chest tightened. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea. I’m not exactly a dog whisperer.”
“Charlie was specific. Said you’d try to back out.” Donovan’s eyes crinkled. “Also said you were the only one he trusted to understand what Ajax needs.”
“I dinna even have a proper garden. I mean, not a fenced one anyway.”
“Ajax doesn’t need a garden. He needs purpose.” Donovan gestured for me to follow. “Charlie said you’d give him that.”
I had no idea how he thought I’d manage that for Ajax when I’d barely managed it for myself since my own retirement.
We walked toward one of the kennels, and I caught my first glimpse of Ajax.
The Belgian Malinois sat at perfect attention, ears forward, eyes alert.
Unlike the other dogs who barked or wagged tails, Ajax remained perfectly still, watching us approach with an intensity that felt uncomfortably familiar.
Like looking in a mirror with four legs and a service record.
I recognized that look. The thousand-yard stare of a soldier who’d seen too much.
“He’s been waiting for someone,” Donovan said quietly. “Maybe he’s been waiting for you.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone waiting for me. What did I have to offer anyone other than a quick joke to lighten the mood?
I crouched down, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. Ajax’s ears twitched forward, his amber eyes studying me with an unnerving intelligence.
“Hey there, lad. Remember me?” I kept my voice low, letting him catch my scent.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Ajax’s tail gave a single, tentative wag. He took a step toward me, nose working overtime as he processed who I was.
“I think he does remember you.” Surprise laced Donovan’s voice.
“We spent two years in the same hell together.” I extended my hand, palm up, letting Ajax make the choice. “This dog saved my life in Kandahar.”
Ajax sniffed my hand, then pressed his muzzle against my palm—a gesture so unexpected it nearly broke me. Trust, so freely given. And I didn’t know what to do with it. I scratched behind his ears, exactly where Charlie had shown me he liked it.
“Remember that night outside the village? When those bastards had us pinned down?” I spoke directly to Ajax now, not caring if Donovan thought I was mental. “Charlie couldn’t see shite through his scope with all that dust. But you knew. You always knew.”
God, I’d forgotten what it felt like to speak to someone who listened without judgment.
Ajax’s posture changed subtly, as if the memory was registering.
“You broke position before Charlie gave the command. Took off like a bullet.” I smiled at the memory. “Charlie was cursing up a storm, but you’d already locked onto that sniper. Gave us the precious seconds we needed to reposition.”
Ajax’s tail wagged again, stronger this time.
“Charlie always said you were smarter than half the brass giving orders.” My throat tightened. “He was right.”
I glanced up at Donovan. “We lost two men that night, but it would’ve been all of us if not for this dog.” And that knowledge had sat under my ribcage like a second heartbeat ever since.
Ajax moved closer, pressing his body against my leg in a way that felt like recognition. Not quite trust—that would take time—but acknowledgment of our shared past. Of Charlie.
“I didn’t realize you’d served together that long.”
I jerked my shoulders in a shrug, as if it would shed the memories circling like smoke. “Charlie, Ajax and I—we saw the worst together. And somehow made it home.”
I straightened up, keeping my hand on Ajax’s head. The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders, heavier than any pack I’d carried through Afghan mountains. Time to get down to it. “What’s he going to need? I’ve been around military dogs, but never had to transition one.”
Donovan leaned against the kennel fence. “First thing to understand is he’s not only grieving Charlie. He’s lost his purpose. Military dogs are workers. They need jobs.”
“So I should find him work?” I frowned. “I’m a wilderness guide, no’ exactly K-9 unit material.”
“That tracking ability could be useful in your line, couldn’t it?” Donovan raised an eyebrow. “He’s trained to follow scent trails through the most inhospitable terrain on earth.”
I hadn’t considered that. “Suppose he could help locate lost hikers.” Maybe that was enough. Purpose didn’t have to mean war anymore.
“Exactly. Don’t try to make him a pet, Patterson. He’s not built for it. Keep his mind engaged.” Donovan handed me a worn leather folder. “Charlie’s notes on his commands, routines, training exercises.”
I flipped through pages of Charlie’s cramped handwriting. “Jesus, this is detailed.”
“That’s why he’s alive. Charlie was meticulous.” Donovan’s voice softened. “Stick to the routine at first. Same feeding times, same exercise schedule. Structure will help him adjust.”
Ajax sat perfectly still beside me, as if he understood we were discussing his future.
“What about the nightmares?” I asked quietly. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But the words were already in the air, bare and cold.
Donovan’s eyes met mine. “You have those, too?”
I nodded. They weren’t as bad or as often these days, but I had them.
“Then you already know what he needs. Someone who understands. Someone who won’t panic when he’s having a bad night.” Donovan gestured between us. “That’s why Charlie chose you.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m no’ sure I can be what he needs.”
“Charlie thought otherwise.” Donovan crouched down, giving Ajax a final pat. “He’ll have good days and bad days. Some mornings he’ll wake up looking for Charlie. Just be patient. And remember, he’s reading your emotions constantly. If you’re anxious about him, he’ll sense it.”
Fantastic. One more living soul I had to lie to with a smile and steady hands. “No pressure then,” I muttered.
“One last thing.” Donovan straightened up. “Don’t baby him. He’s a soldier. Treat him with respect.”
I nodded, understanding completely. Ajax wasn’t a pet to be coddled. He was a veteran who needed purpose, structure, and dignity.
I looked down at Ajax. “Ready to come home with me, lad?”
Ajax’s ears perked up at my question, his amber eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle. I’d swear he understood. With a soft whine, he rose to his feet, muscles tensed as if waiting for a command.
Donovan uncrossed his arms. “I’d say that’s a yes.”
I clipped the lead to Ajax’s collar, feeling the weight of responsibility settle even heavier. “Come on then, soldier. Let’s get you sorted.”
Ajax followed at perfect heel position—not too close, not too far—as we walked to my 4x4.
I’d spent the previous evening preparing the back seat, installing a proper dog sling that would keep him secure without restricting his movement too much.
I’d also picked up a specialized harness that doubled as a seat belt attachment.
“Up you go,” I said, opening the rear door.
Ajax hesitated, sniffing at the unfamiliar setup. For a moment, I worried he might refuse, but then he gracefully leaped into the back seat, turning once before settling onto the padded sling.
“Good lad.” I secured his harness to the seat belt anchor, checking twice that it gave him enough slack to adjust position but would keep him safe if I had to brake suddenly.
Donovan handed me a duffel bag. “His kit. Food for the first week, his favorite toy—though he rarely plays with it—his service vest, and his medical records.”
I nodded, stowing the bag in the back. “Anything else I should know?”
“Only what’s in Charlie’s notes.” Donovan extended his hand. “Good luck, Patterson. He’s a special one.”
I shook his hand firmly. “I know. I’ll do right by him.”
“Charlie would appreciate that.”
With a last nod, I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, Ajax lay perfectly still, not relaxed or anxious, his eyes fixed on the back of my head. Waiting for what came next.
“It’s you and me now, lad,” I said softly as we pulled away from the kennel. “I know I’m not Charlie. I know I never will be. But I promise I’ll do my best.”
The long drive stretched ahead of us, five hours back to Glenlaig. Five hours to wonder if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Five hours to worry about all the ways I might fail this dog who’d already lost too much.
I glanced in the rearview again. Ajax hadn’t moved, but his eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Dinna worry,” I told him, though the reassurance was probably more for me. “I willnae fuck this up.”
Because I couldn’t. Not again.