I’d left Fletcher in a library on the third floor five minutes ago. I’d helped the old man hide underneath a desk, then grabbed a tin of Jo-Jo’s healing from my vest. I’d ripped Fletcher’s shirt open and spread it over his wound. The bullet hole in his chest wasn’t immediately fatal, and Jo-Jo’s salve would help stop the bleeding, but that was all. Fletcher was in no shape to do anything more strenuous than breathe right now. So it was up to me to find and kill Delov as quickly as I could—before he found us.

I tiptoed through the hallways, eased up to the doorways, and looked in every room I passed, repeating the evaluation process Fletcher and I had used to find the giant in the first place. But Delov was nowhere to be seen. Had he somehow gotten past me already? Or was he watching me right now from some dark corner, getting ready to strike? I didn’t know, and every second that passed ratcheted up my tension—

Scrape-scrape. Scrape-scrape.

The sound came from around the corner. I froze, my cold fingers tightening around the knife in my hand.

Scrape-scrape. Scrape-scrape.

The sound came again, moving faster now, heading right toward me. I sucked in a breath and got ready to fight. As soon as Delov stepped into view, I was going to leap forward and plunge Fletcher’s knife into his chest. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would have to do, even if I knew deep down inside that there was no way I could kill the giant face-to-face, not given how big and strong he was. But I had to try, if only to protect Fletcher—

Peaches, the Pomeranian, rounded the corner, looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and I sagged against the wall in surprised, sweaty relief. The dog. It was just the dog.

I drew in a breath and pushed away from the wall, determined to keep searching for Delov, even if I didn’t really believe I could take him out like I was supposed to, like Fletcher needed me to.

But Peaches had other ideas. The dog fell into step beside me as I moved down the hallway, his nails click-click-clicking and sounding as loud as trumpets on the polished hardwood floor. I might as well have raised a bullhorn to my lips and shouted my position to Delov. That’s how much noise it seemed like the dog was making.

“Go away!” I hissed, and made a shooing motion with my hand.

But Peaches only gave me a goofy grin and kept right on following me like we were playing the best game ever. Finally, I stopped, leaned down and petted the dog’s head, hoping that might appease him. But the Pomeranian just perked up more and started dancing in circles around my feet, apparently deciding that I was his new best friend.

Click-click-click. Click-click-click.