The mastiff followed them down the corridor, silent but commanding. Security tried to block his way; he gave one deep rumble that shook Elena’s ribs. “Let him stay,” she said firmly. “He brought her in. He could be her pet for all we know.” The guards hesitated, but the dog didn’t. He stayed close, never once taking his eyes off the gurney.
Inside the trauma bay, monitors blinked to life. Elena’s hands moved on instinct—oxygen, vitals, blankets. The girl’s pulse was weak but steady. Her mouth opened briefly to whisper, “Dog…friend.” Finger-shaped bruises bloomed on her arm. Outside the glass, the mastiff stood, fogging the window with each heavy breath.