The red light blinked once.

Then twice.

Ghost stood frozen in front of me, every muscle locked beneath his pale coat.

I had treated military dogs for six years.

I knew the signs of fear.

I knew the signs of pain.

This was neither.

Ghost was waiting.

He knew something was about to happen.

“Move away from him,” O’Shea ordered.

Her pistol never left my chest.

I looked at the collar again.

A thin mechanical hum pulsed beneath the leather.

Ray had gone completely still near the kennel radio.

“Those collars aren’t tracking devices,” he whispered.

O’Shea’s jaw tightened.

“Ray, be quiet.”

He looked at her, horrified.

“They are remote-control prototypes.”

Cross slammed a hand against the observation glass.

“Do not let her remove it!”

That was all I needed to hear.

I dropped to one knee beside Ghost.

“Easy, boy,” I said softly.

Ghost turned his head toward me.

His eyes were bright, focused, trusting.

The kind of trust that made my throat tighten.

I slid two fingers beneath the collar’s clasp.

O’Shea took one step closer.

“I said move away.”

Atlas stepped between us.

Not fast.

Not aggressively.

Just one careful step that placed his broad body directly in front of me.

Cora moved beside him.

Then Bruno.

Within seconds, the seven dogs formed a silent wall around Ghost and me.

O’Shea stared at them.

“They were trained to obey command.”

“No,” I said, keeping my hands steady on Ghost’s collar. “They were trained to protect people.”

The red light flashed faster.

Ray suddenly looked toward the shattered lock panel.

“The building system is connected to the collars.”

Cross shouted through the glass.

“Pike, get the card!”

But Pike remained pinned against the bench by Ghost’s earlier charge, his face gray with panic.

I pulled the collar loose.

A small black module slipped into my palm.

It was lighter than I expected.

Too light to contain anything harmless.

On its underside, a display glowed with a countdown.

00:19.

My breath caught.

Ray saw it too.

“Nadia,” he said, “that is not a tracking unit.”

O’Shea’s confidence cracked.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

The countdown changed.

00:14.

Cross began pounding on the observation glass.

“Do you have any idea what you are holding?”

I looked directly at him.

“Something you never expected Ghost to find.”

The module made a sharp clicking sound.

The seven dogs lowered their bodies, not toward O’Shea, but toward the kennel floor.

Ghost pressed against my leg.

Then I understood.

The collars were not meant to harm the dogs.

They were meant to erase the evidence.

At zero, every hidden file in the ValeGuard network would disappear.

Joe had known.

That was why he hid the memory card.

That was why Ghost led me to the capsule.

I turned the module over and saw a narrow data port beneath the casing.

“Ray,” I said, “connect this to the kennel system.”

His eyes widened.

“If I do, the entire security network will open.”

“Exactly.”

O’Shea raised her pistol.

“Do not do it.”

But before she could move, the kennel speakers crackled.

A voice filled the room.

Not Joe’s.

Not Ray’s.

A calm woman’s voice.

“Emergency archive protocol activated.”

Cross stopped pounding.

O’Shea’s face went white.

Every monitor in the kennel wing flickered on.

And across every screen appeared a live transmission from somewhere deep inside ValeGuard.

A room full of sealed crates.

Rows of experimental collars.

And in the center of the image—

Joe Calloway.

Alive.

He looked directly into the camera.

Then he spoke one sentence that made O’Shea lower her pistol.

“Nadia, do not trust the person standing behind you.”