Figures emerged from the fog. Police officers spread across the pier in a wide formation. Two patrol vehicles idled near the entrance, lights reflecting faintly off the wet wood.
At the front stood a woman with a firm stance and focused eyes.
Commander Valeria Robles, head of the K9 unit.
Her attention fixed immediately on the dog.
“There he is,” she said quietly.
An officer stepped forward cautiously.
“Sir,” he said, keeping his voice steady, “please move away from the dog. Slowly.”
Ernesto didn’t move.
Not out of defiance.
Out of confusion.
The German Shepherd lifted its head. Its ears twitched. It did not bark or bare its teeth.
Instead, it pressed closer to the elderly man, positioning its body between him and the officers.
Valeria’s jaw tightened.
“That dog is an active service K9,” she said. “He went missing during training earlier today. His name is Delta.”
“I didn’t take him,” Ernesto said, his voice trembling slightly. “I was just sitting here. He came to me. Ran straight to me… like he knew me.”
As if responding to his words, the dog gently rested its head against Ernesto’s leg.
Not defensive.
Not fearful.
Familiar.
Valeria raised her hand.
“Hold positions,” she ordered. “No one advances.”
The tension thickened.
A safety latch clicked.
A radio hissed softly.
“Commander,” one officer murmured, “the dog isn’t showing aggression.”
“That’s what worries me,” Valeria replied. “Delta doesn’t behave like this with strangers.”
She took a slow step forward.
And for the first time in her career, she wasn’t certain who was truly in control.
Then a command rang out.
“K9, engage.”
The moment hung in the air.
