and gathered Pepper into my chest. She smelled like industrial cleaner and fear, but the moment she was in my arms, she buried her wet nose into my neck and let out a long, shuddering sigh. The lopsided heart on her chest pressed right against my own.
“You don’t owe us money,” the biker said, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “But you owe her everything. You understand me? You’re her whole world now.”
“I know,” I cried into her scruffy fur, holding her tight. “I know. I promise.”
He nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement. “Let’s ride, boys,” he called back to the others.
They didn’t start their engines right away. They quietly loaded the old Lab, the puppies, and the three-legged hound into a customized, ventilated trailer hitched to the back of a blacked-out van parked out of sight behind the trees. They worked with the same
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