Chapter 20 - The Guardian’s Charge
Before Miles could unlock the child safety latches, Roman threw his entire 160-pound weight against the tinted rear passenger window.
The tempered glass shattered into thousands of crystal pebbles.
Roman hit the wet asphalt, rolled once, and sprang up like a black panther. He didn't bark. He didn't growl. A trained war dog in attack mode makes no sound before the kill.
"Shoot it!" Brendan screamed, panicking as he saw the monstrous Mastiff charging at full sprint through the headlights.
Brendan swung his revolver away from Faith’s head and fired two deafening shots.
The first bullet ricocheted off the asphalt, sparking inches from Roman’s paws. The second grazed Roman’s shoulder, spraying crimson into the rain, but the massive dog didn't even flinch. Adrenaline and nine years of dormant instinct drove him forward like a missile.
Roman leaped.
All 160 pounds crashed into Brendan’s chest, slamming the hitman against the slick metal guardrail. Brendan shrieked as Roman’s jaws clamped around his gun arm with bone-crushing force. The revolver spun out of Brendan’s grip, clattering over the ledge and vanishing into the black abyss of the Hudson River below.
"Faith, drop down!" Willa screamed from behind Jared.
Faith, hearing the command, immediately collapsed onto her knees, curling into a ball on the wet ground.
Jared closed the distance in three violent strides. He didn't use a gun. He grabbed Brendan by the collar of his leather coat, ripped him away from Roman’s jaws, and slammed his skull into the steel barrier until the man went limp, collapsing unconscious onto the tarmac.
The highway fell dead silent, save for the hum of distant sirens.
Roman stood over Faith’s curled-up body. Blood dripped from the graze on his shoulder, mixing with the rain.
The little girl slowly extended two trembling, small hands into the air, reaching into the darkness she had known her entire life.
Her tiny fingers touched thick, wet, coarse black fur.
Roman didn't snarl. He lowered his massive, terrifying head and gently pressed his cold, wet snout against the palm of her hand.
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"Roman?" Faith whispered.
The beast gave a soft, shuddering whine, and for the first time since Elena died, lay completely flat on the ground, burying his giant head into the eight-year-old girl’s lap.
