Chapter 173
[ 462 words ]
Chapter 173:
K. C. Bell was standing in the center of the room.
When he saw the biological creature in Caroline’s arms, the tactical sunglasses literally slipped down the bridge of his nose.
Bell took a large step forward. His massive chest expanded.
“Ma’am,” Bell said, his voice rigid with panic. “The Colonel maintains a strict, sterile environment. There is a zero-tolerance, no-pet security protocol for this residence.”
Caroline did not stop walking. She stopped two feet in front of the towering special forces operator. She tilted her head up. Her gray eyes locked onto his.
She weaponized the title Jarrod had given her.
“I am Mrs. Romero,” Caroline stated, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. “This dog is under my protection. I am overriding the protocol. If the Colonel has a problem with it, he can take it up with me.”
𝖱𝖾𝖺𝘥 𝗳𝗿𝘰𝗺 𝘺о𝘶r рh𝗼𝗻e оn 𝗀𝘢𝗹ոо𝘷𝗲𝘭𝘴.𝗰о𝘮
Caroline completely ignored Bell’s rigid, protesting posture. She tightened her grip on the blanket and walked straight past him, her flat shoes making no sound on the dark hardwood floors.
She bypassed the master bedroom entirely. She walked down the long hallway and pushed open the heavy door to a guest bedroom that had never been used.
She stepped inside and walked directly into the attached en-suite bathroom. The space was massive, lined from floor to ceiling in cold, gray Italian marble.
Caroline gently placed the bundled dog onto the wide, flat expanse of the marble vanity. She turned the heavy chrome handles of the faucet, letting the water run over her wrist until the temperature was perfectly lukewarm.
Bell appeared in the doorway. He stood there like a dark, looming ghost. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his cheeks were visibly twitching.
Caroline didn’t even turn her head.
“Go to the kitchen,” Caroline ordered, her voice echoing sharply against the tile. “Find me three clean towels and a low plastic basin. Now.”
Bell inhaled a sharp, deep breath through his nose. He was a Tier-1 special operations contractor. He had extracted high-value targets from active warzones. Now he was being ordered to fetch towels for a wet dog.
But he could not disobey the woman standing at the sink. He turned sharply on his heel and marched toward the kitchen.
Caroline cupped the warm water in her hands. She poured it gently over the dog’s matted, blood-stained fur. She moved her fingers with extreme care, deliberately avoiding the thick white bandages wrapped tightly around its hind leg. As she gently washed the grime from his chest, a small, heart-shaped patch of white fur became visible against the black, a unique little mark.
The dog let out a low, pathetic whimper. It trembled under the running water.
“It’s okay,” Caroline whispered, her voice dropping into a soft, soothing rhythm. “You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
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