Their hands moved with practiced speed. They measured out medication and gave him an injection in the thigh. The ease of it made one thing painfully clear: they had done this before, many times. Eleanor watched in stunned silence as the victims worked to save the man who had held them captive.
“See?” the kidnapper rasped triumphantly as he recovered enough to speak. “They’re loyal to me. We belong together in this dead world.”
Thunder had other ideas. He stepped firmly between the girls and the man, using his body like a wall. In one decisive move, he cut off the kidnapper’s access to them. Every line of the dog’s body said the same thing: no closer.
The girls recoiled, startled, and for the first time a flicker of doubt crossed their faces. That brief crack in the conditioning changed everything. Eleanor made another calming gesture and moved a little closer.
“Your mother cries over your pictures every single day,” she told them. “You were never meant to live in a dark, damp hole like this. Just give me a chance to show you that the sun is still up there and people are still living their lives.”
The girls said nothing. They only looked at each other, trying to process what they were hearing. Their breathing was shallow and quick, and their thin fingers worried at the hems of their dirty sweaters. But the absolute faith they had placed in the man was beginning to break.
Thunder seemed to sense it. He gently licked the younger girl’s hand. She gave a small sob but did not pull away, instinctively leaning toward the warmth of his fur. In that quiet moment, Eleanor finally understood:
