Page 31 of Unseen Danger

“You could say something, Al. Talk to me, you know?” She forced her attention to her partner’s heavy breathing. The sound of her footfalls in the grass, stalled in its growth by the cold snap. The feel of the uneven surface beneath her feet. The cold of her fingers.

She should’ve brought gloves, even if Jazz would’ve teased her about how she was always cold.

So cold.

Was she dead?

Numbness crept through every fiber of her body.

He swung his fist again.

Kicked his leg toward her.

She saw movement through the gap between her hands, the last-ditch try to protect her face, her head. But she couldn’t feel the blows anymore.

This must be it. Death.

It was so cold.

A growl. Something bumped into her knee.

Alvarez.

Nevaeh blinked into the darkness.

The rottie mix stood tall, stiff, staring through the fence with his head and ears alert. Had he heard or smelled something?

“What is it, Al?” She stepped closer to him and peered into the shadows. They were on the street side of the fence now where a few streetlamps lit the sidewalk and empty road.

Blood rushed in her ears, but not because of the darkness. Or Al’s growl.

The memories lurked over her shoulder. Just like he had. Only she could see them coming. The flashbacks, the PTSD overwhelming her. The fear paralyzing her.

Your fear is a tool. Harness it. Control it. Use it. Phoenix’s instructions filtered through the panic.

Yes. Nevaeh could use her fear. It had taken months of intense training for Phoenix to get her there.

She let out a long breath and focused on what her body was telling her. It was primed for danger.

Like Alvarez, who let out another low warning as he took a step toward the fence so his snout nearly touched the links.

She let her gaze dart around as it wanted to, searching the dark shadows for danger.

She listened. A dog barked in the distance.

Was that what Alvarez was concerned about? He’d been trained not to automatically bark at other dogs, especially on patrol. But he wasn’t perfect at that particular trick. His desire to talk back to other dogs and be the toughest on the block sometimes won out.

But no, her rapid pulse told her something was wrong.

Unless that was only the PTSD?

Frustration crowded her throat, wanting to escape in a grunt. Telling the difference between legit fear, the kind that warned her, and the irrational kind was the problem she never seemed to solve.

But at least her nerves kept her ready, on alert either way.

A squeak reached her ears.

Alvarez barked, his attention locked on the darkness somewhere down the sidewalk. Or in the bushes there?

---