Chapter 3 - The Unlikely Guard
Moving to the family quarters in the second-floor west wing felt like stepping into another dimension. The rooms were spacious, warm, and furnished with comfortable velvet armchairs and a wide bay window overlooking the snow-draped pine trees.
Yet, the most startling part of the upgrade wasn't the furniture.
It was the massive black shadow lying comfortably across the Persian rug right outside their front door.
On their second evening in the new quarters, Sofia opened the door to check the hallway and nearly tripped over Bruno’s front paw. The Cane Corso lifted his heavy head, let out a soft huff of air, and thumped his tail twice against the hardwood floor.
Behind Sofia, Emma squealed with delight.
“Buddy!”
Before Sofia could grab her, Emma dashed out the door and flopped down directly onto the dog’s massive side, wrapping her small arms around his thick neck.
Bruno didn't growl. He didn't tense. Instead, he nuzzled his wet nose against Emma’s cheek, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh that sounded remarkably like a contented purr.
Sofia stood in the doorway, her hand over her heart, shaking her head in sheer disbelief.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Adrian Mercer appeared around the corner, walking with his usual unhurried, measured stride. He stopped a few feet away, looking down at the strange tableau: his ruthless, eleven-year-old war dog acting like a docile nursery rug for a toddler.
“He likes her,” Adrian noted unnecessarily.
“He’s going to crush her ribs one of these days,” Sofia muttered, crossing her arms defensively.
“Bruno hasn't made a mistake in a decade, Sofia. He knows her weight better than you do.” Adrian shifted his gaze from the dog to Sofia. The harsh, intimidating edge in his eyes had softened—just slightly—revealing a man who had spent far too long surrounded by enemies and very little time watching anything pure. “How is the new room?”
“It’s... too much, Mr. Mercer. You didn't have to upgrade us.”
“I don't do charity,” Adrian replied evenly. “I invest in assets. And right now, your daughter is the most valuable asset on this property.”
Sofia bristled at the cold business terminology, even if it was wrapped in a compliment. “She’s not an asset, Mr. Mercer. She’s a little girl.”
Adrian’s gaze locked onto hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind howled against the reinforced windowpanes outside, rattling the glass, but inside the hallway, the only sound was Emma giggling as Bruno licked a smudge of peanut butter off her fingers.
“My apologies,” Adrian said softly, the apology sounding strange and heavy coming from his lips. “I sometimes forget how to speak to normal people.”
“You don't talk to many people at all, do you?” Sofia asked before she could stop herself.
A shadow crossed Adrian’s face—a flicker of old isolation that he quickly masked behind his stoic mask.
“People in my line of work, Sofia, tend to find that silence is a much safer companion than conversation.”
May you like
“Maybe,” Sofia said quietly, looking down at Emma. “But even shadows get cold after a while.”
Adrian stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked down the corridor toward his private study.
