Chapter 6 - The Shadow at the Gate
The digital fame was fun, but in a city like New York, visibility always attracted the wrong kind of attention.
Two weeks after the TikTok went viral, the atmosphere around the neighborhood began to shift. The quiet, sleepy perimeter of Queens suddenly saw an influx of unfamiliar cars—unmarked sedans idling near the corner bodega, men in cheap suits lingering too long near the wrought-iron gates of the Vance estate, and reporters from sleazy tabloid blogs trying to bribe local residents for information about Viktor Vance’s "underground operations."
Mila noticed it first during her walk home from a late evening shift at the nursing home.
A sleek black sedan pulled slowly alongside her curb. The tinted window rolled down an inch, revealing a pair of cold, calculating eyes staring out from under the brim of a dark cap.
"Excuse me, miss," a raspy voice called out. "You live in the building next to the Vance property, right? The girl with the dog videos?"
Mila quickened her pace, her nursing bag clutched tightly in her hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Just a few questions about Vance," the man pressed, his voice hardening as the car crept forward to match her stride. "What kind of visitors does he get? What’s inside that compound? We know he’s running—"
Before the man could finish his sentence, a low, ominous rumble cut through the night air.
It wasn't human. It was a sound that vibrated straight through the pavement and into the marrow of your bones.
From the shadows of the alleyway beside the bodega, a massive, obsidian shape detached itself from the darkness. Bruno didn't bark. He didn't snarl. He simply moved with the terrifying speed and silent grace of a predatory cat, placing himself squarely between the black sedan and Mila.
His yellowed, bone-crushing teeth were bared just enough to catch the streetlamp light, and his eyes locked onto the driver with an intensity that promised utter devastation.
May you like
The driver swallowed hard, hit the gas pedal, and peeled away down the asphalt, tires screeching in a desperate retreat.
Mila stood frozen for a second, her heart hammering against her ribs, before she looked down at the massive dog. Bruno turned his head, gave a single, calm huff of breath, and gently bumped his heavy head against her hand as if to say: Walk's over. Let's go home.
