18. I’m the Lucky One
Chapter eighteen
I’m the Lucky One
Matt
Melina’s body is rigid in my arms, holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Then she breaks, shuddering against my chest, her breath ragged and uneven.
Rage scorches through my veins. Whoever did this—I want them on their knees, begging for mercy, before I tear them apart with my bare hands.
A second vet tech approaches, her voice soft, compassionate. “Why don’t you both come with me?” she says, guiding us toward an empty exam room. “So, you can have some privacy.”
“Thank you,” I answer quietly.
We settle side by side on a stiff leather chair. I keep my arms around her, smoothing her hair, wiping away each tear as it falls.
She hasn’t pieced it together yet—hasn’t realized the truth behind this nightmare. But I know. This wasn’t a tragic accident. It was intentional. The bastard stalking her did this.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her cry. Each sob shreds my chest, hardening my resolve. Someone will pay.
We sit in silence until her breathing steadies, her weight leaning into me. Only then do I ease my hold and stand.
Her eyes fly to mine, panicked. “Where are you going?”
“To get you some water and tissues,” I tell her softly. “I’ll be right back.”
She nods weakly but doesn’t respond.
I step into the waiting room, jaw tight as I approach the reception desk. The woman looks up with a knowing, sympathetic smile.
“Do you have water? Tissues?” The words come out rougher than I intend.
“Of course,” she says, quickly gathering both before handing them over. “Thank you,” I mutter, taking them from her.
Before returning to Melina, I step outside to call Steele. He picks up on the first ring.
“What’s going on?” His voice is sharp, alert.
“He poisoned her fucking dog,” I growl.
Silence. The weight of it hangs before I catch the sound of a truck door slamming in the background.
“I’m headed to the house,” he says, his tone dark.
“Check for pellets—gray or brown. Call me when you’ve got something.”
“Will do.”
I end the conversation without another word.
I return to the room and pass Melina the water and tissues. She dries her tears, then twists the cap and takes a long, shaky sip. She offers me the bottle, and I drink too, the dryness scraping down my throat.
We sit in silence, her hand clasped in mine. Finally, she looks up. “Do I have mascara all over my face?”
I shake my head. “You look beautiful.”
She lets out a short, humorless laugh, but it fades fast. “How could this happen, Matt? I’ve never used poison in my yard. I don’t even know what zinc phosphide is.”
“Rat poison,” I say evenly, watching her closely.
Her brow furrows, confusion hardening to frustration. “How the hell did he get into that?”
I sigh deeply, my jaw tightening. She’s been so sure the stalker is gone. Reality is about to crush her.
She senses it instantly, head snapping up, eyes narrowing. “Matt… what aren’t you saying?”
I hesitate, the weight of the truth pressing in, before meeting her gaze. Realization slams into her, eyes widening in horror.
“No,” she whispers. “No, no, no!”
She shoots up from her seat, pacing the exam room like a caged animal, her breath coming in harsh gasps. “Why? Arrow never hurt a soul!”
Fury blazes, hot tears streaking her cheeks. I rise and cross to her, my hands settling gently on her shoulders.“It makes sense, Melina.”
She looks up at me, eyes wild. “What do you mean, it makes sense?!”
“We’ve talked about this. Remember? If anyone ever made it through that door, Arrow wouldn’t hesitate. He’d do whatever it took to protect you. The stalker knows that. That’s why he went after him.”
My stomach twists at the thought—this twisted bastard poisoning him to eliminate the one thing standing in his way once he’s inside.
Her body trembles beneath my hands, anger yielding to fear and despair. “Why is this happening?” she whispers, voice cracking.
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. I answer quickly.“What do you have?”
“Pellets wrapped in ground beef,” Steele reports grimly. “A few uneaten by the fence line. He must’ve broken into the neighbor’s yard and tossed them over. Nothing useful on surveillance. I’ll check with the neighbors, see if anyone’s cameras caught it.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
“How is he?” Steele asks cautiously.
“We don’t know yet. They’re still working on him.”
Steele exhales, frustration bleeding through. “Give Melina a hug from me. Tell her we’re gonna get this fucker.”
“I will,” I murmur quietly, ending the call.
Melina looks up, eyes red and searching. “What did he say?”
“He found the bait. Meatballs laced with pellets, tossed over the fence,” I say, carefully.
“Fucking coward,” she whispers, bitterness creeping in.
“Steele says we’re gonna get him. We will, Melina. I promise you.”
The exam room door swings open, and a man in a white coat steps inside.
“I’m Dr. Evans,” he says with a short nod. “I’ve been treating Arrow. Mind if I sit?”
“Please,” Melina replies, her voice shaky. She straightens in her chair.
He pulls a stool closer and sits. His tone stays even, but I catch the weight behind his words.
“We’ve done everything we can to stabilize him. Too much time had passed to induce vomiting—too risky with zinc phosphide. Instead, we used charcoal to bind the remaining toxin and antacids to slow the gas release. He’s on IV fluids to support his kidneys and flush the poison.”
Melina grips my hand tight. “How is he?”
Evans pauses. “Stable for now, but not out of the woods yet. The next twelve to twenty-four hours are critical. We stopped the seizures, which is a good sign, but he’ll need close monitoring throughout the night.”
Melina’s breath hitches. “Can I stay with him?”
“I’m sorry,” Evans says, shaking his head. “We can’t allow visitors overnight. But we’ll call immediately if there’s any change.”
She nods, eyes brimming again. “Okay, I understand.”
He rises. “We’re doing everything we can. Arrow’s a strong dog. He’s fighting hard.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I say quietly, giving his hand a firm shake before he slips out, leaving us alone.
Melina leans into me, and I pull her close. “We should go home,” I murmur. “They’ll call if anything changes.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”
We drive in silence, tension easing a little the farther we get from the clinic. I can feel her watching me. Finally, she speaks.
“Will you tell me about Oscar?”
A weight presses into my chest. I don’t answer right away—just breathe out through my nose, eyes on the road.
“Belgian Malinois,” I say finally.
Her head tilts. “He looked a lot like Arrow?”
“At first glance. Malinois and Shepherds look similar, but Malinois are leaner, built for speed and endurance. Shepherds are heavier, stronger in frame. Both are loyal and smart as hell, but Malinois have a higher drive. More intensity, less off-switch.”
Her voice softens. “I can’t even imagine.”
She studies me for a long moment, then her expression changes—curiosity sparking. “What happens when Oscar retires?”
“I get to bring him home.”
Her eyes brighten. “Really?”
I nod. “Handlers are given first priority. I already put in the request. The guy running him now knows we worked together for almost seven years. Oscar’s close to retirement, and since I’m mostly stateside these days, I’m the more stable choice.
He respects our bond and supports my decision to adopt him. ”
Her smile returns. “Good. You deserve that.”
“Oscar does, too,” I say quietly. “He’s earned it.”
She leans in, resting her head on my shoulder. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
We come home to an empty house. Without Arrow at the door, it seems hollow.
Melina had Spencer stay with a friend from school—she doesn’t want him to know yet. Harper’s out with friends, as usual. That leaves the two of us alone in a silence that feels heavier than it should.
We order takeout, put on an episode of Yellowstone , but neither of us is watching. Melina keeps checking her phone compulsively, terrified of missing a call from the vet.
After hours of restless waiting, I say quietly, “Maybe we should try to get some sleep.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Will you stay with me?”
“Of course.” Truth is, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
We head to her room and slip under the covers. We’ve shared her bed before, but I’ve kept it respectful. Since that night in the kitchen, it’s been nothing more than heavy make-out sessions. Hard as hell, but I want to do this right—for her and for me.
I lean back against the pillows and open my arms. “Come here.”
She settles in without hesitation, head on my chest, her body softening against mine. I hold her close, fingers combing through her hair until her breathing evens and she’s out.
I shut my eyes and let the day drag me under too.
***
Melina’s phone blares on the nightstand, jolting us both awake. She snatches it, pressing it to her ear.
“Hello? How is he?” Her voice is urgent, but still rough from sleep.
Her gaze locks on mine while she listens. “Okay. That’s good.”
A pause. Then— “No seizures since yesterday afternoon? Thank God.”
Some of the tension eases from her shoulders. “Is he alert? Has he eaten?”
She nods slowly. “You’ll keep him through today? …When can we see him?”
She meets my stare, mouthing, he’s stable .
“Right. Please call if anything changes. Thank you.”
She hangs up, letting out a shaky breath, eyes shining with relief as she turns to me.
“They said he’s stable and alert. No more seizures. He even took a little water on his own. They’ll keep him today to monitor his kidneys and heart, but if he keeps improving, we could bring him home tonight.”
I pull her into my arms, some of the weight finally lifting. Best news we could’ve hoped for.
Usually, on Fridays, I’d head into HQ for training drills or briefings. Not today. Melina took a mental health day, and my place is here.
Harper left for school early. Melina was worried about how she’d take me staying over, but Harper surprised us both.