Samuel looked at the rifle.
“The dart will not work.”
The room paused around the sentence.
Kevin gave a dry laugh.
“You a dog expert now?”
Samuel’s voice stayed low.
“A dog like that will read the dart as an attack. He will fight the drug until he cannot fight his own heart.”
Anya felt the small hairs rise along her arms.
That was not a guess.
That was experience.
Brenda tried to hold on to the shape of the day.
There were forms for aggressive animals.
There were risk notices.
There were procedures for sedation, evaluation, and, if all else failed, euthanasia.
She had not slept well because that last word had already appeared on the edge of the decision.
It was not cruelty that had brought them there.
It was responsibility with no better tool in its hand.
Samuel looked at the hallway again.
“He is dying from fear,” he said.
