Faithful Guardian Novel

The kitchen was plunged in pitch darkness, illuminated only by the pale, icy blue moonlight reflecting off the snow outside the sliding glass patio doors.

The glass door was standing wide open, letting in gusts of freezing winter air that sent white curtains billowing into the room.

Standing in the center of the kitchen was a tall man clad in black tactical clothing, wearing leather gloves and holding a high-voltage electronic stun baton that crackled with blue arcs of electricity. Behind him stepped a second operative holding a heavy black duffel bag containing electronic forensic wiping tools.

“Find the boy’s home medical backup files and the hard drives,” the lead operative instructed in a cold, foreign accent. “If the nurse is inside, neutralize her.”

They never saw Rex coming.

German Shepherds trained for elite protection do not bark when engaging an active home intruder; they strike like lightning.

Rex launched his eighty-pound body through the dark kitchen air with explosive power. He hit the lead operative full in the chest before the man could even raise his electro-stun baton.

The heavy impact sent the operative flying backward through the air, crashing violently into the marble kitchen island, bringing a cascade of glass jars and appliances down with him. The stun baton flew from his grip, clattering across the floor tile.

“Aaargh! Get this beast off me!” the lead operative screamed as Rex locked his formidable jaws around the heavy leather padding of the man’s tactical sleeve, thrashing his head with terrifying power.

The second operative pulled a silenced hand pistol from his shoulder holster, aiming straight for Rex’s side.

“No!” I screamed.

I lunged out of the hallway, swinging the heavy iron fireplace poker with both hands like a baseball bat. The solid iron rod slammed into the second operative’s wrist with a sickening *CRACK*. The silenced pistol dropped onto the floor tile, spinning out of reach under the refrigerator.

The operative howled in pain, clutching his broken wrist, but he swung his left fist, striking me across the jaw. The force of the blow knocked me off balance, sending me crashing against the kitchen cabinets.

Rex heard my cry.

He released the lead operative’s arm, spun around on the slick tile floor, and launched himself at the second operative. His jaws clamped firmly around the man’s heavy winter jacket shoulder, throwing the operative violently onto his back.

The lead operative, bleeding from his cheek and wheezing from broken ribs, scrambled to his feet, grabbing his crackling stun baton from the floor. He raised the weapon, aiming it at Rex’s exposed neck.

“Die, you stupid animal!” the man hissed.

From the top of the stairs, a tiny voice echoed through the house with absolute authority:

“REX! TAKE HIM DOWN!”

It was Leo. He was standing at the top of the stairs holding his father’s old brass track trophy, his face pale but fearless.

At the sound of Leo’s voice, Rex executed a flawless tactical spin. As the stun baton came swinging down, Rex dodged the electrical arc, lunged upward, and clamped his jaws firmly around the lead operative’s forearm, forcing the baton directly into the man’s own thigh.

A blinding flash of blue voltage exploded through the dark kitchen. The high-voltage electrical charge surged straight into the operative’s body. The man let out a short, choked gasp, his eyes rolling back into his head, before he collapsed unconscious onto the tile floor like a sack of stones.

The second operative, broken-wristed, bleeding, and utterly terrified by the fury of the Shepherd, scrambled on his hands and knees out through the open sliding glass door, throwing himself into the deep snow outside, fleeing blindly into the dark night.

Silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by the cold wind howling through the open patio door and the heavy, rhythmic panting of Rex.

Rex stood over the unconscious operative, his foot placed firmly on the man’s chest, his broad chest rising and falling, his eyes dark, glowing, and completely victorious.

I sat up against the cabinets, clutching my aching jaw, letting out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

Leo came running down the stairs, throwing his arms around Rex’s neck. “Rex! You got him! You got the bad man!”

Rex lowered his head, pressing his warm, wet nose against Leo’s neck, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief. He turned his head to me, giving my hand a soft, gentle lick, as if asking: *Are you okay, Sarah?*