Chapter 3 - The Poison in the Veins
The atmosphere in the corridor shifted instantly from high tension to a delicate standoff.
Don Matteo Moretti slowly knelt down on one knee, his expensive trousers making contact with the dusty floor. He reached out a hand toward Titan.
"Titan," Matteo called out gently, his harsh voice softening into something almost paternal. "Come here, boy."
The moment Titan heard Matteo’s voice, he didn't wag his tail. He didn't show joy. Instead, the dog stiffened completely. His ears pinned back against his head, and a violent, instinctual growl vibrated from his throat—a sound far deeper and more hostile than anything he had directed at Lena.
Matteo froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. Shock flashed across his dark eyes.
"He... he doesn't recognize me?" Matteo whispered, sounding genuinely wounded. "He was raised in my house. He slept beside my bed for seven years!"
"He recognizes you," Lena said, observing the dog's subtle body language closely. "But he’s terrified. He associates something about his home with immense pain."
"Nonsense!" barked Victor, Matteo’s chief bodyguard, stepping forward with his hand resting inside his coat, near his weapon. "Don Matteo loved this animal like family! Someone stole Titan from our compound three weeks ago. We’ve been searching the entire state for him!"
"If someone stole him," Lena asked, looking directly at Matteo, "then how did he end up in a public shelter fifty miles away, starving, covered in chemical burns, and completely blind?"
Matteo’s expression turned lethal. "Chemical burns?"
"Milo," Lena called out to the clerk. "Bring the medical intake file. Now."
Milo sprinted down the hall, returning in seconds with a heavy yellow folder. Lena took it, opened it, and laid it out on the floor in front of the mob boss.
"When Titan arrived eight days ago," Lena explained, pointing to the high-resolution intake photos, "he wasn't just aggressive. His stomach was swollen, his skin was sloughing off around his chest, and his eyes were completely milky. Director Boon’s report claimed it was age-related cataracts and aggression from rage syndrome."
Lena turned her head to glare at Fletcher Boon, who was slowly edging toward the back exit.
"Stand right there, Director," Victor ordered, drawing a sleek black pistol with practiced ease and pointing it at Boon’s chest. Boon froze, turning white as chalk.
"Go on, miss," Matteo commanded, his voice dead calm, which was infinitely more terrifying than yelling.
"I grew up on a farm," Lena said softly, running her fingers through Titan's fur. "My father was a vet before he passed away. I know what cataracts look like. They develop slowly over years. Titan didn't go blind from old age. His eyes were burned from the inside out by chemical toxicity."
She pulled out a printout of the dog’s blood analysis from the file.
"Look at the toxicological screen," Lena pointed out. "High levels of thallium and heavy metals. Someone didn't just steal Titan, Don Moretti. Someone was poisoning him slowly, right under your nose, inside your own house."
Matteo’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure ice. Thallium was tasteless, odorless, and slow-acting. It caused blindness, hair loss, intense neurological pain, and extreme paranoia in dogs, making them lash out at anyone who touched them because their entire body was in agony.
"Why would anyone poison a dog?" Milo asked, bewildered.
"Because Titan wasn't just a pet," Lena realized, the puzzle pieces snapping together in her mind. "A blind, violent dog who attacks anyone near him can't do his job. What was his job, Mr. Moretti?"
Matteo looked down at the massive dog, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles jumped.
"He was my personal protector," Matteo said quietly. "And he guarded the entrance to my private study, where I keep the evidence ledgers for my entire family operation. Without Titan guarding that door..."
Matteo stopped speaking, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
Titan had been poisoned to disable the security of the Moretti estate. But when the poison didn't kill him fast enough and only made him violent, the traitor had abducted the dog, dumped him in the woods, and left him to suffer, hoping the city shelter would finish the job by euthanizing him.
"You said he attacked everyone who came near him," Lena said, looking up at Matteo. "He wasn't attacking out of rage. He was attacking because every human voice reminded him of the person who fed him the poison."
Matteo stood up, his face an unreadable mask of absolute coldness. "Director Boon."
"P-please, Don Moretti!" Boon wept, falling to his knees. "I didn't know! A man paid me fifty thousand dollars in cash to accept the dog, keep him isolated, and execute him after a week! He said the dog was a liability! I didn't know he belonged to you!"
"Who paid you?" Matteo asked quietly.
"I... I don't know his name! He spoke through a scrambled phone line!" Boon sobbed. "He only said he was calling on behalf of the 'New Order' in your family!"
Matteo’s eyes flashed with recognition. "Julian," he whispered softly.
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Julian was Matteo’s younger half-brother—the smooth-talking, ambitious lieutenant who had been pushing for weeks to take over the family's shipping contracts.
Matteo looked down at Lena. For the first time, his eyes held a profound respect. "You saved my dog's life, girl. And you just uncovered a coup inside my family."
