She had spent one week of her life learning that dog’s body language a long time ago in a place she had sworn never to mention again. Lieutenant Commander Wes Alcott stood at the edge of the yellow tape in Navy camouflage, one hand pressed over his mouth. The whole room stared at the dog.
He was the only one staring at her. Security rushed in with a catchpole and a seditive dart. Alcott stepped in front of them.
His eyes slid across the room, past the doctors, past the guards, and stopped on one nurse in navy scrubs. For one breath, the growl stopped. Then it started again, lower, and every hair on Iris’s arms rose beneath her sleeves.
Security tried the catchpole first. Atlas turned his head, and the loop never closed. He did not lunge.
He only stepped closer to the senior chief and set one paw against the man’s vest. Nobody tried that again. Dr. Albbright paced along the tape with his hands on his hips.
