At the back of the church, Emma was preparing to step inside. Lucy glanced over her shoulder toward the doors, instinctively checking the timing. That’s when Rex froze again. Completely still. His gaze locked on the entrance now—not the windows, not the crowd. The doors.
Lucy felt a cold prickle creep up her spine. “Rex,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. “Heel.” The leash went taut as Rex leaned forward, muscles coiling beneath his skin, attention sharpened to a razor’s edge. A few guests near the aisle leaned back slightly, unsettled by the sudden tension radiating from him.