28. “Titanium” - David Guetta Sia #2
William looks at each of us in turn, then nods and slowly walks to the door, disappointment tugging at his shoulders. He may be accepting this, but I will do what I can to heal this rift between them.
Henry marches out after him, probably to make sure he actually leaves. Tundra has disappeared, evidently not interested in listening to the humans argue.
I wave a hand in front of my face to fan it, my blood pumping hot and strong. How could he not even give William a chance? That man is his flesh and blood. He deserves five minutes at the very least. I stalk out of the library, intent on giving Henry my own few cents.
We collide in the foyer. “Omph,” I say, clutching my aching nose, which has just met the brick wall of Henry’s chest.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He grabs my shoulders and holds me away from himself. “Are you okay?”
I nod, still holding my nose. “I will be.” I blink away the tears that formed upon impact and drop my hand. “I can’t believe you threw him out like that.”
“You have got to be kidding me. I told you I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“He only wanted to apologize.” My voice is raised, and I know the officer near the door can hear us, but I don’t care. I’ve had enough of Henry’s two-faced duplicity. “What will it take for you to forgive him?”
Anger simmers beneath the surface of his skin, a lightning bolt ready to strike. “That depends. What will it take for you to forgive me?”
I flinch and take a small step backward. “That’s not fair. Nor relevant.”
“You’re right. Because my father is a lying, manipulating mastermind, whereas everything I told you was the truth.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he’s changed?”
Henry throws back his head and laughs, but it’s devoid of humor. “My father is as likely to change as Tundra is to turn into a cat.”
“You won’t even give him a chance.” I don’t know why I’m defending William so strongly, except I can’t help but feel like Henry’s anger toward him is unreasonable, even considering what he did.
“You don’t know him like I do.” He leans down, and I can see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Whatever persona he showed you—contrite, apologetic old man or whatever—was just a ruse. He’s playing you, Celia. That’s what he does.”
“And what if you’re wrong?”
Henry scoffs, his eyebrows flicking upward. “I’m not.”
“I know he did awful things—”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
I throw up my hands. “Then tell me.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “If you would just trust me, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“How do you expect me to trust you when you won’t even tell me the truth? If you’d told me why I can’t trust him earlier, I probably wouldn’t have let him in.”
“If I had told you, you’d likely be dead already.”
I cross my arms over my chest, his words chilling me more than I’d like to admit. “If he’s trying to kill me too, why didn’t he come in with an assault rifle, or at least a coil of rope?”
Henry shuts his eyes as if he’s trying to block out my words. “He’s dangerous, C. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“I’m not listening to this anymore. Come on, Tundra. Let’s go to bed.” I march toward my bedroom but don’t hear that unmistakable click of claws on tile. “Tundra! Come, boy.”
He doesn’t come. I go into the kitchen just as Henry enters from the other side. Tundra is lying on the floor—apparently he’s decided the tile in here is as good a place as any for a nap. I kneel down and shake him gently. “Come on, boy. Wake up.”
He doesn’t stir.
“Tundra,” I say, panic lacing my words. “Wake up, boy.”
Henry kneels on the other side and lifts his head. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”
Tundra remains motionless.
“Oh my god, Henry. Is he dead?” The last word comes out on a sob.
He puts his face near Tundra’s. “He’s still breathing, but something’s wrong. We need to take him in.” He pulls his phone out and calls Roberts.
A few minutes later, Tundra is being lifted by several PPOs and carried from the kitchen. “Let’s go,” Henry says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “You can sit with him in the car.”
I glance down at the spot where Tundra was just lying. Crumpled beneath him is the truffle box. There are only a few pieces left.
A shaky wail tears out of me. “He was eating chocolate.” I thrust the box at Henry.
“They’ll be able to help him—don’t worry.” He tucks the box under his arm and leads me to the door.
The ride to the animal hospital is quiet, Tundra in the back seat between Henry and me, his head on my lap. I stroke the soft fur between his eyes and assure him that he’s going to be okay, even though all I can hear is William’s voice telling me chocolate is poisonous to dogs.
Once we reach the clinic, I try to explain to the assistant about the chocolate, but my words get lost in my sobs. Henry keeps one arm wrapped around me while he explains what happened. He hands over the nearly empty box of truffles.
“This is what he got into?” the assistant asks.
Henry nods and leads me to the private waiting room we’re directed to.
Once the door is shut, I whirl on him. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t insisted on arguing about your father, Tundra would have been in my room and never have gotten into those truffles.”
“You think I haven’t been thinking the same thing?” Henry sighs and sinks into one of the vinyl-clad chairs. “I’m so sorry, C.”
I cover my face with my hands, but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling. “He’s all I have. I can’t lose him.”
“You’re not going to lose him, baby.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t think he had a lethal dose of chocolate.”
“How much is lethal? I thought they couldn’t have any.”
“They can get sick, but a dog Tundra’s size would need to eat a lot of it for it to be fatal,” he says.
The thought eases the anguish in my heart a little. “So you think he’ll make it?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Come sit.” Henry pulls me toward the chair beside him. I sink into it and don’t even resist when he pulls my head onto his shoulder.
I wake when the veterinarian walks into the room. He’s an older man, graying hair at his temples, tired eyes, but a kind smile.
“Good evening, Your Majesty. I’m Dr. Ron.”
I shake the hand he extends. “How is he?” I say. “How’s Tundra?”
“I’m afraid he’s not good.” The doctor’s eyes flit to Henry, and I sense them having a private conversation that I don’t understand.
“But he’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”
“We’re administering a few different medications. All we can do is continue monitoring him to see how he responds to them. Can you tell me exactly how much chocolate he ingested?”
“The box was full. Maybe around a dozen truffles?”
Dr. Ron’s bushy brows draw together, and he looks back at Henry. They share a weird moment of telepathy again.
“I’ll be right back,” Henry says into my ear. “Stay here.”