dog crossed the courtyard, stopped in front of Vincent, and laid the sneaker on the stone between them.
The girl planted her hands on her hips. See?
Vincent looked down at Atlas. You have embarrassed the household.
Atlas sat.
And you are not even sorry.
The girl stepped forward. Can I have it?
Vincent bent to pick up the shoe. Atlas moved before his fingers touched it.
The transformation was so small that neither guard noticed it immediately. The dog’s mouth closed. His shoulders lowered. His tail stopped. The relaxed animal disappeared, replaced by something precise and deeply familiar.
Atlas turned his nose toward the sneaker, inhaled once, and sat completely still with his focus locked on the red fabric.
Vincent’s hand froze three inches above it.
He had seen that posture in training demonstrations. He had seen it once before, at a shipping terminal two years earlier, when Atlas
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