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Chapter 25 - Amaya
Last Updated:
2025-05-28 18:22:16
BryantLilac, your timing is.... impeccable. At least they had a productive day, and I don't just mean with prep for the protest. That talk was much needed to clear the air.
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A Bark in the Park Chapter 34 - Alan
The sound of gunfire cracked through the air as we moved.I didn’t flinch.My heart was a solid drum in my chest, but my grip on the weapon didn’t shake once. The metal of the side door gave under Clay’s crowbar with a sharp groan, and the second it popped open, Makayla was the first through—silent and surgical in her movements, already scanning with a scope mounted on her tablet, feeding live heat readings into our comms.“Two signatures down the hall. East wing. Still.” Her voice was calm. Cool. Focused. “One more moving south. You’ve got a clean window—go.”I was next in, Clay at my back, and Xenia was close behind him. Behind us, the rest of the team fanned out through the alley, splitting toward their designated entry points. Darius, Elijah, Riko, and Forrest peeled left. Reese and Don were already positioned at the loading dock, ready to flood the building with noise the second we needed a deeper push.And outside?Lilac had a goddamn show going.A protest bloomed across the str
A Bark in the Park Chapter 33 - Amaya
I didn’t know how long I’d been locked in that room.Long enough for the spinning in my head to dull to a slow, sickening sway. Long enough for the ache in my skull to settle behind my eyes like a stone pressing inward. Long enough to realize I couldn’t measure time by daylight—because there wasn’t any. Only the flickering buzz of a single overhead bulb, and the sound of footsteps in the hallway beyond the door.Two men. One walked heavier than the other. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they didn’t. I couldn’t tell if they rotated by schedule or just wandered by. It didn’t matter—I couldn’t count time by their pacing anymore.What I could count on was the quiet.The silence gave me space to listen—to really listen—to the faint hum in the walls, the scuttle of something small moving in the vents, the rhythmic drip of water nearby. There were no windows. No cracks under the door. Just tile floor, a stained twin mattress, and a folding chair.And a camera.It had been on when Vittorio wa
A Bark in the Park Chapter 32 - Alan
I never thought I’d pray over blood again. But there I was, on my knees in the middle of the ruined safehouse, pressing a warm, wet cloth to the gash above Rufio’s brow and whispering steady, low nonsense into his fur like it could undo what happened.He didn’t whimper. He didn’t move. He just laid there, his breath shallow and uneven, eyes dull with pain but locked on mine. He’d done everything he could. Fought harder than most men I knew. He was a lion trapped in a corgi’s frame—and he hadn’t let them take her without making sure they bled for it.“I’m so damn proud of you,” I whispered, voice catching as I ran my hand gently over the spot behind his ears. “You did good. You kept her safe as long as you could.”But he hadn’t been able to stop them. And neither had I.I stood, blood and guilt streaked across my palms, and grabbed my phone. The ache in my chest wasn’t just grief or fear—it was fire. Controlled. Contained. Ready to burn down every last name connected to mine if it mean
A Bark in the Park Chapter 31 - Amaya
It started with a flicker. One moment, the ceiling lights glowed softly with their dull, even hum I’d become familiar with—comforting in its normalcy. Next, they flashed twice and went out. The silence that followed was abrupt and uncharacteristic, as if the house took a deep breath and never exhaled.Rufio stiffened beside me on the couch.He’d been lying on my leg with his head, jerking occasionally in a squirrel-chasing dream. Now, his whole body stiffened, and his ears pricked up. His growl began at the back of his throat, low and quiet at first, vibrating almost against me. Then it grew louder and became harsh and guttural. My own heart constricted.“Rufio?” I whispered while sitting up. “What”He did not look at me. He kept his eye on the front door. And then we heard it. Footsteps.Fast and loud and deliberate—gravel crunching beneath strange footprints. I stood up before I realized it, heart pounding and mind already shouting at me, This is not right.I grabbed the nearest thi
A Bark in the Park Chapter 30 - Alan
I left the photo in her hand for all of three seconds. Then I reached out and took it. Carefully. Gently. Like I wasn’t sure if it was still mine to hold.She didn’t stop me. Just watched me like she could see through my half-truths and hollow reassurances. I could feel the weight of her disappointment before she even turned her back. I didn’t blame her.The folder was still on the table when I passed through the kitchen. I grabbed it, tucked it under my arm, and grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a word in the world that could make it right.I needed answers. And only one person would be straight with me now—because she never bothered to sugarcoat a damn thing.Fifteen minutes later, I parked in a gravel lot behind a boarded-up antiques shop just off Bedford Road. Clay’s truck was already there, parked like it had just rolled off the set of a small-town vigilante movie. Makayla’s car was pulled into the shadows, barel
A Bark in the Park Chapter 29 - Amaya
By the time I rolled out of bed the next morning, Alan was already gone—up, dressed, and downstairs with Rufio, who I could hear padding back and forth by the front door like he was guarding the perimeter of a castle. The air in the safehouse was heavy, still flavored by adrenaline and the aftertaste of yesterday’s protest. But something else lingered, too. The shift. The line we’d crossed. I pulled on the pair of my jeans from the care package and one of Alan’s shirts that still smelled like him. My body ached in that dull, satisfying way that said I’d done something real. But emotionally? I was stretched thin. Worn in a way that sleep didn’t fix. When I came downstairs, the laptop was already on the table, and our pre-protest maps and signage notes were shoved to one side. Alan glanced up from the kitchen counter, where two mugs steamed like peace offerings. “Call’s starting,” he said, nodding toward the screen. I gave a small smile of thanks and settled into the wooden chair as
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