THE DEVIL'S PET

The evening was too quiet. Sarah should’ve turned back the second the sky darkened, but something about the wind tonight felt oddly still—like the city was holding its breath. She pulled her jacket tighter, glancing down at the dog walking beside her. Rufus. He was calm, almost too calm. His large frame moved with the quiet grace of a shadow, but Sarah had sensed something different about him since the day she brought him home. He wasn’t like other dogs. He didn’t bark, didn’t whine. He didn’t even ask for attention. But he watched. Always watched. Like he was trained to see more than most. They walked in silence through the park trail, gravel crunching beneath her boots. She almost missed the voice. "Hey there, sweetheart." She turned. The creepy ball-stand guy. The one who always stared too long. Tonight, he wasn’t smiling. He was drunk. And bold. “You always walk around here lookin’ that fine?” he said, swaggering toward her. Sarah froze. “Stay away from me.” “Or what?” he sneered. “You gonna let your dog bite me?” Rufus growled low. "Relax, baby," he said, taking another step. “Just wanna talk.” She started to back away—but too late. He lunged, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her forward. Her scream barely escaped before he slapped his hand over her mouth. Rufus launched at him with a terrifying snarl, but before he could make contact— Bang! A gunshot tore through the night. Rufus hit the ground with a grunt, motionless. Sarah screamed beneath the man’s grip, thrashing, tears flooding her eyes. “No one’s gonna hear you,” he hissed, throwing the gun aside and pushing her down. “Let’s see how much you like playing tough now—” But he shouldn’t have looked away. A second later, a deep, guttural growl erupted behind him. Sarah blinked. Rufus was… standing. Blood smeared his side, but his eyes were locked on the man, and his lips peeled back over glistening teeth. The creep turned just in time to scream. Rufus lunged. The man hit the ground, choking on his cries as Rufus tore into him with brutal precision—trained, efficient, merciless. Sarah backed against the wall, heart hammering. This wasn’t the dog she’d brought home. This was something else. Something dangerous. The man stopped moving. Rufus stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his mouth. He turned to look at her. Sarah flinched. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. She barely noticed the blood seeping into the cracks of the pavement… or the cold raindrop that landed on her cheek. Then came another. And another. The sky cracked open. Rain fell hard, soaking her hair, her jacket, her skin. But she stayed frozen—staring at the dog she thought she knew. And then… footsteps. Heavy. Calm. A figure in black approached. She barely had time to look up before a coat was thrown over her head. The scent was unfamiliar—clean, dark, expensive. Her vision blurred. Her knees buckled. And then, darkness. ---