He found Wren one afternoon in the east wing—the wing that had been a no-go zone for over two years, that had cost him two board votes and millions of dollars. She was with Titan, the dog’s head in her lap, afternoon light across them both.
“He trusts you,” Marcus said from the doorway. “He trusts the quiet,” Wren said. “I’m just associated with it now.” Marcus looked at Titan and the complete absence of tension that had lived in every muscle of the dog for two and a half years.