THE K9’S SECRET

PART 3 — THE LAST SURVIVOR

At 2:15 a.m., I left the hospital through the rear entrance.

Rex walked beside me, wearing a temporary medical harness.

I had changed out of my scrubs and into a black jacket. Inside my bag were my old military identification, a flashlight, and the small photograph I had carried since my final deployment.

It showed six soldiers standing together.

Commander Hayes.

Sergeant Miller.

Corporal James.

Two other teammates.

And me, holding a younger version of Rex.

Five people in that photograph had been declared dead.

But I had never believed the official report.

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

I answered immediately.

“Grace, don’t go to Fort Raven.”

It was Hayes.

“Then tell me where you are.”

“I can’t. Vance has people watching the hospital.”

“Why is he involved?”

Hayes was silent for a moment.

“Because he was the one who ordered our team into that ambush.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“You’re saying Colonel Vance betrayed us?”

“Not just us. He sold military intelligence to a private weapons network. Your team discovered the evidence, and he arranged for everyone to disappear.”

“Then why am I still alive?”

“Because you were never supposed to survive.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

Suddenly, headlights appeared behind me.

A black SUV turned into the parking lot.

Rex immediately moved in front of me, barking furiously.

“Down!”

I ducked behind a parked ambulance as the SUV stopped.

Two men stepped out.

One carried a flashlight.

The other held something that looked like a weapon.

“Find the woman. The colonel wants her alive.”

My heart pounded.

They knew I was there.

Rex pulled gently at my jacket, guiding me toward the emergency exit gate.

I followed him.

We reached my car just as the men began searching the parking area.

I started the engine and drove away.

Fort Raven was nearly two hours outside the city.

By sunrise, I reached the abandoned facility.

The entrance gate hung crookedly from its hinges. Weeds covered the road, and several buildings stood empty behind a rusted security fence.

Rex suddenly stopped.

His ears lifted.

Then he ran toward an old concrete barracks.

“Rex! Wait!”

He scratched at a metal door.

I approached and noticed fresh footprints in the mud.

Someone had been here recently.

I knocked three times.

Nothing.

Then I heard a voice.

“Identify yourself.”

I swallowed.

“Sergeant Grace Whitmore. Special Operations Unit Seven.”

Silence.

Then the door opened slightly.

A man appeared, holding a pistol.

His face was older, his beard untrimmed, and one side of his forehead carried a long scar.

But I recognized him immediately.

“James?”

His eyes widened.

“Grace?”

Before I could answer, Rex pushed past me and rushed toward him.

James dropped his weapon and wrapped both arms around the dog.

“You came back,” he whispered.

I stared at him.

“They told me you were dead.”

“They told everyone the same thing.”

James looked at me, then at Rex.

“Hayes was right. You’re the only person who can expose Vance.”

“What evidence?”

James stepped aside.

Inside the room stood several computers, military documents, and photographs of our old team.

On the central table was a sealed black folder.

James opened it.

Inside were mission reports, payment records, and a list of names.

At the bottom of the final page was a signature.

Colonel Vance.

My hands went cold.

“Where is Hayes?”

James looked toward the window.

“He’s alive. But he’s been captured.”

“Where?”

“At the military intelligence headquarters.”

I took a deep breath.

“Then we’ll get him out.”

James shook his head.

“Grace, you don’t understand. Vance knows you’re here. He has already sent a team.”

Before I could respond, the lights suddenly went out.

Rex began barking.

A loud explosion shook the building.

James grabbed my arm.

“They’ve found us!”

I reached for the black folder, but something on the computer screen caught my attention.

A live security feed.

A man was standing outside the facility.

Wearing a military uniform.

Holding a photograph of me.

Colonel Vance.

He looked directly into the camera and smiled.

Then his voice came through the building’s old speaker system.

“Welcome home, Sergeant Whitmore.”

A pause followed.

“Now come outside. Or I’ll make sure your dog is the first one buried.”

I looked down at Rex.

He stood beside me, his body tense, his eyes fixed on the door.

I placed one hand on his head.

“They made one mistake, Rex.”

James looked at me.

“What mistake?”

I picked up the old military identification card from my pocket.

“They thought I had forgotten how to fight.”

And somewhere outside, the first gunshot rang out.