The puppy froze for a heartbeat, tail twitching. Its nostrils flared. Then, just as Ethan thought it might take a step forward, a train door slammed in the distance. The sound echoed like a gunshot. The puppy spun, bolted back toward the tracks, barking wildly again. Ethan cursed under his breath.
The food hadn’t worked, if anything, the noise had sent it deeper into its panic. The station master sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “This isn’t working,” he said finally. “We can’t keep running in circles. People have places to be.” Ethan shot him a look. “You’re not thinking of—” “I’m not letting it get hit,” the man cut in sharply. “But we need help. Real help.”