They carried Rex deeper into the barn and slid him into an empty cage like he was inventory. The door clanked shut. Eleanor’s throat tightened around a sound. Sarah touched her wrist—don’t. Then one of the dogs closest to the wall lifted its head and stared straight at the gap. It barked. Sharp. Alarmed.
The bark triggered the rest—whining, barking, claws scraping metal. The whole barn woke up at once. Sarah yanked Eleanor back. They ducked behind the shrubs pressed against the foundation, bodies flat, hearts hammering.