Chapter Two #2
“If the dogs went home with you,” the vet continued, “and Ryan was there to monitor them, I could provide the medications and instructions for their care. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than leaving them here overnight if it’s going to cause this much distress.”
Hope flaring, Sonny turned to look at Reese, his mate’s ice-blue eyes already fixed on him. Something in the set of his shoulders suggested he was considering it.
“Ryan would do it.” Reese pulled out his phone and typed something with thumbs that seemed too large for the small screen. “He’s good with animals. Knows how to handle medical care.”
“I can write everything down.” The vet was already moving toward the cabinets, pulling out supplies.
“Medication schedules, wound-care instructions, warning signs to watch for. You'll need to bring them back tomorrow for follow-up, but one night at home shouldn’t cause problems if they’re properly monitored. ”
Sonny was unable to form words of gratitude. This stranger, this vet who had no reason to accommodate Sonny’s issues, was rearranging his treatment plan because Sonny couldn’t handle being separated from two traumatized dogs.
The kindness of it made a stinging lump form in his throat.
“Thank you,” Sonny murmured, voice rough. “I know this is asking a lot. I know I’m being difficult. But they’ve been through so much, and I just can’t—”
“You don’t have to explain.” Dr. Sullivan’s smile was warm, understanding in a way that suggested he’d seen this before. “I get it. These dogs are lucky to have someone who cares this much about their wellbeing.”
Reese’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and nodded once. “Ryan says he’ll handle it. He’s setting up a space for them now.”
The relief that flooded through Sonny made his knees weak. He reached out to steady himself, and his hand found Reese’s arm, the muscle solid and warm under his palm. His mate shifted slightly, moving closer, his presence a stability that Sonny leaned against.
Dr. Sullivan spent the next thirty minutes going over care instructions.
He demonstrated how to administer the medications, how to check Delilah’s wound for signs of worsening infection, how to monitor Hercules for respiratory distress that might indicate his ribs had punctured something internal.
Sonny absorbed every word, his brain filing away information with the same focus he’d used when learning to patch up fighting dogs in the first place.
The vet loaded them up with supplies. Antibiotics in pill and liquid form. Bandages and antiseptic. Pain medication that would help both dogs rest. A special food that was easier to digest for malnourished animals. The pile of items grew until Sonny wasn’t sure how they’d carry it all.
Reese handled that problem by scooping up most of the supplies in one trip. His mate moved with the same controlled efficiency he did everything else, loading the truck bed while Sonny helped Delilah and Hercules into the back seat.
The drive started in silence. Sonny turned around to check on the dogs every thirty seconds, his body refusing to relax, even though both animals had settled onto the seat.
Delilah’s eyes were half closed, the pain medication Dr. Sullivan had administered already taking effect.
Hercules had his head resting on her shoulder, his breathing even despite the damaged ribs.
Reese’s hands were steady on the wheel. The truck’s interior now smelled like leather and something cold and clean that reminded Sonny of winter mornings.
His mate drove with a controlled power that suggested he could handle whatever came at them.
The thought should’ve been comforting, but Sonny was still too wound up to fully accept safety.
“How far is your place?” Sonny’s voice was small in the quiet cab.
“Ten minutes.” Reese’s ice-blue eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking on the dogs. “Ryan’s getting everything set up. He’s good with animals. You don’t need to worry.”
Even though Reese wasn’t looking at him, Sonny nodded. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his jacket, finding the frayed edges and worrying at them. The adrenaline that had kept him moving for three days was starting to fade, leaving exhaustion in its wake. His body felt like it weighed a ton.
The truck drove through Crimson Hollow, the view changing as they passed through town.
Streetlights created pools of amber glow on the pavement, a few people walking down the streets.
Sonny watched them with something that felt uncomfortably close to envy.
When was the last time his life had been normal?
When was the last time he’d walked anywhere without looking over his shoulder?
“You’ve been running for days.” Reese’s voice cut through Sonny’s spiraling thoughts. “When did you last eat?”
The question took him by surprise. Sonny had to actually think about it, counting backward through the blur of gas stations and rest stops. “Yesterday morning. Maybe. I had some crackers from a vending machine.”
Reese’s jaw tightened, visible even in profile. “Ryan will have food ready.”
“I’m not hungry.” Sonny’s stomach chose that exact moment to growl loud enough that both of them could hear it. His face heated. “Okay, fine, I’m starving. But the dogs need to get settled first. They’re the priority.”
“You can’t take care of them if you collapse from exhaustion and malnutrition.” Reese turned onto a tree-lined street, the houses getting larger as they drove. “The dogs will be fine for the twenty minutes it takes you to eat something.”
Sonny wanted to argue, but his body was already betraying him.
His hands were shaking, had been for the last hour, but he’d been too focused on the dogs to really notice how badly.
His vision kept blurring at the edges. The exhaustion sat on him like a physical weight, pressing him down into the truck’s expensive leather seat.
A house appeared on their right, larger than the others on the long stretch of road. Two stories, a wraparound porch, and enough windows that someone clearly paid a fortune in heating bills. Lights blazed from multiple rooms. His mate pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.
“We’re here.” Reese was already opening his door. “Grab what you can carry from the supplies. I’ll get the dogs.”
Sonny climbed out of the truck on legs that felt wobbly.
The cool evening air hit his face, clearing some of the fog from his brain.
He moved to the truck bed and started gathering supplies, loading his arms with medication bottles and bandages.
The pile was awkward, threatening to spill, but he managed to balance it.
Reese had both dogs out by the time Sonny made it around the truck. Delilah was cradled against his broad chest again, her head tucked under his jaw. Hercules stood on the driveway, leaning heavily against Reese’s leg. Both animals looked small and vulnerable next to his mate.
The front door opened before they reached it. A man appeared, younger than Dr. Sullivan, with dark hair and an easy smile. His energy felt calm, steady, the kind of person who probably didn’t panic in emergencies. Ryan. His bunny immediately scented that Ryan was human, just like the vet.
“You must be Sonny.” Ryan’s gaze swept over him, taking in the disheveled mess and tired expression with a gentle smile. “Reese texted me. Come on in. I’ve got a space set up for the dogs.”
Sonny followed Ryan inside, his arms still full of supplies. The house’s interior was warm, lived-in, with furniture that looked comfortable rather than expensive. Voices carried from somewhere deeper inside, male voices engaged in what sounded like a debate about sports.
Ryan led them through the living room toward a hallway. “I set up the guest room on the first floor. Figured it would be easier than having them navigate stairs. There’s bedding on the floor and water bowls. Dr. Sullivan said they’d need somewhere quiet to rest.”
The guest room was exactly as Ryan described. Soft bedding covered most of the floor space, creating a nest large enough for both dogs. Water bowls sat in the corner, along with empty bowls for the special food Dr. Sullivan had sent home. The lighting was dim, easy on traumatized eyes.
Reese set Delilah down on the bedding. She immediately circled twice before settling, her movements slow and pained. Hercules limped over and collapsed beside her, his damaged ribs making him groan softly.
Sonny dumped the supplies on a nearby dresser and dropped to his knees beside the dogs.
His hands moved over them automatically, making sure nothing had gotten worse during the drive.
Delilah gave a weak tail wag when his fingers scratched behind her ears.
Hercules licked his wrist, tongue warm and slightly rough.
“They need their medications in four hours.” Sonny was already mentally calculating the schedule, figuring out when each dose needed to be administered. “The antibiotics for Delilah are the most important. Dr. Sullivan said the infection could spread fast if we’re not careful.”
“I’ve got it written down.” Ryan’s voice came from the doorway. “Reese sent me Dr. Sullivan’s instructions. I’ll set alarms on my phone so I don’t miss any doses.”
Sonny nodded but didn’t look up. His focus stayed on the dogs, on the rise and fall of their breathing, on the way Delilah’s injured leg was positioned.
She needed to keep weight off it, but dogs didn’t understand that concept.
He’d have to watch her, make sure she didn’t try to move around too much.
“Sonny.” Reese’s voice came from somewhere above him. “You need to eat.”
“I’m staying with them.” Sonny’s hands stilled on Hercules’s back. “They’re in a strange place. I don’t want them to be scared.”
“Ryan’ll watch them while you eat.” Reese crouched down, his massive frame folding with surprising grace. Those ice-blue eyes held his gaze. “Just asking for twenty minutes, hon.”
Sonny wanted to argue. His mouth opened to form protests, but his body chose that moment to remind him exactly how long it had been since he’d taken care of himself. The room tilted slightly. His vision blurred at the edges. The exhaustion crashed over him like a physical force.
“Fine.” The word came out sounding defeated. “Twenty minutes. But if anything changes, if they need me, someone comes and gets me immediately.”
“Deal.” Ryan smiled warmly at him. “Go eat. I’ve got them.”
Muscles protested from constantly running as Sonny pushed to his feet. He gave the dogs one last look, making sure they were settled, then forced himself to follow Reese out of the room.
The hallway felt longer than it had on the way in. His feet dragged against the hardwood floor, each step requiring conscious effort. His body wanted to shut down, wanted to find somewhere horizontal and sleep.
The kitchen appeared ahead, bright and clean and smelling like something that made Sonny’s stomach cramp with sudden hunger.
A large table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by chairs that looked sturdy enough to hold someone Reese’s size.
Three other men sat at the table, and all of them looked up when Sonny and Reese entered.
“This is Sonny.” Reese’s hand settled on Sonny’s lower back, the other pointing at the men. “That’s Grayson, Colton, and Malik.”
Their scents identified them immediately. Lion, panther, cheetah. All predators. All powerful enough to tear him apart without breaking a sweat. He wanted to find the nearest exit and bolt. But Reese’s hand kept him anchored, easing the panic trying to choke him.
“Heard you rescued some dogs from a fighting ring,” the lion shifter said. Grayson, Sonny’s brain supplied. His voice was deep, authoritative in a way that said he was the guy in charge. “That took guts.”
“Or stupidity,” Sonny countered. “The jury’s still out on which.”
The panther shifter, Colton, laughed. The sound was genuine and warm, lacking the edge that would’ve signaled he was laughing at Sonny rather than with him. “I’m voting guts. The hyenas don’t take kindly to people messing with their property.”
Property. That was what the hyenas had called them, like they were objects instead of living beings capable of suffering. The reminder made anger cut hot and fierce through his fatigue.
“They’re not property,” Sonny bit out. “They’re dogs. Living animals who deserved better than what was done to them.”
Silence filled the kitchen. He realized he’d just snapped at a room full of men who could kill him without blinking. His bunny was screaming at him to shut the hell up, to apologize, to do anything except stand here with stubborn jaw.
But Sonny refused to back down.
“You’re right.” Grayson’s expression possibly radiated respect. Sonny was too tired to care at this point. “They deserved better. That’s why what you did matters.”
The anger drained out of Sonny as quickly as it had surfaced, leaving him even more drained than before. The room was doing that tilting thing again, the edges of his vision blurry.
The hand on Sonny’s back guided him toward a chair. “Sit before you fall over.”
Sonny plopped down, thankful he was about to get food in his belly and finally rest. The running was over. Now he could fully concentrate on Hercules and Delilah’s healing.