Armed guards drew their weapons on a feral Cane Corso, completely unaware that a little girl in a pink dress was about to step into the killing zone.

Dr. Reynolds took two steps back, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the hardwood floor. "Dante, shoot the dog."

"I am not shooting Mr. Moretti's dog," Dante snapped, his hand resting tensely on the grip of his holstered sidearm. "If Adrian wakes up and finds out I put a bullet in Titan, he'll kill me himself."

"The man might be having a stroke!" Dr. Reynolds shouted, his voice tight with panic. "He might be dying right now! Look at his skin!"

Elena looked closer. Adrian Moretti's face was dangerously pale, a fine sheen of cold sweat glistening on his forehead. His breathing was shallow, heavy, and uneven.

Titan didn't budge. The giant Cane Corso shifted his weight slightly, his ears pinned back, his dark eyes locked onto the three adults standing in the threshold. Every time Dr. Reynolds made a small movement toward the doorway, Titan's lips pulled back, revealing teeth that could crush human bone.

"Dante, please," Elena whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs. "We have to do something."

Before Dante could answer, a small, soft sound echoed from the hallway behind them.

Humming.

It was a gentle, looping tune—a song about a green frog that Sophia had learned in preschool.

Elena turned around, her blood turning to ice.

Sophia stood three feet behind them, holding her cheap notebook against her chest. She had drawn a bright blue crayon circle on her palm, and her little socks were tucked into her oversized pink sneakers.

"Sophia!" Elena gasped, dropping to her knees and reaching out to grab her daughter's arm. "I told you to stay in the linen closet!"

Sophia didn't look at her mother. She looked past Dante's hip, straight into the study.

Her dark eyes focused instantly on the massive gray-black dog.

"Big puppy," Sophia murmured softly.

"Jesus Christ, Elena, get the kid out of here!" Dante barked, reaching out to push Elena and Sophia back toward the main stairs.

Titan heard Dante's voice raise. The dog let out a sharp, deafening bark that shook the glass panes in the high windows. Dr. Reynolds flinched so violently he dropped his medical bag onto the rug.

Sophia didn't flinch.

Instead, before Elena could grab her sweater, Sophia slipped right underneath Dante's extended arm.

"Sophia! NO!" Elena screamed, reaching forward, but her hand missed her daughter's coat by an inch.

The entire hallway froze.

Dante reached for his gun. Dr. Reynolds stopped breathing.

Little five-year-old Sophia walked calmly across the threshold of the study. Her sneakers made a quiet squeak-squeak against the polished wood floor.

Titan's growl died instantly.

The dog lowered his head, his ears rising slightly as he stared down at the tiny human approaching him. He didn't show his teeth. He didn't step forward. He stood entirely still over Adrian's body, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

Sophia stopped two feet away from Titan's broad snout.

She reached out her right hand—the one with the blue crayon circle on the palm.

"You're protecting your daddy," Sophia said, her voice clear, sweet, and completely devoid of fear. "It's okay. My mommy brings help when I fall down."

Titan leaned forward slowly.

The massive beast, trained to rip men apart on command, gently extended his heavy snout and snuffed at Sophia's palm. He inhaled the smell of blue crayon, lemon polish from Elena's hands, and cheap strawberry juice.

Then, Titan let out a long, shuddering sigh.

He didn't move away from Adrian, but he slowly dropped his hind legs, sitting down flat beside his master's chest. His long tail gave two soft, cautious thumps against the floor.