Chapter 8 - The Return of Titan
The heavy iron door at the end of the tunnel groaned on its rusted hinges as something massive slammed against it from the outside.
Miller’s smug expression faltered, his eyes darting toward the entrance. "No... that's impossible. The secondary locks are pneumatically sealed from the inside. Nothing can break through those reinforced plates!"
Crash.
The steel door buckled inward, rivets snapping like matchsticks and clattering across the stone floor. A second later, a hundred-thirty-pound mass of black muscle and unyielding fury burst through the wreckage.
It was Titan.
And he wasn't alone. Walking right beside his left flank, holding onto the heavy tactical harness strapped across the dog's massive shoulders with one small, steady hand, was Seven. Her oversized coat swirled around her ankles as she stepped into the subterranean laboratory with the calm certainty of an executioner entering an empty courtroom.
The caged Cane Corsos immediately began to thrash against their iron bars, letting out deafening, frantic howls as the presence of the alpha disrupted Miller's entire neural frequency.
"Shoot them! Stop them!" Miller screamed, his face twisting in panic as he slammed his thumb down onto the red button of the transmitter.
The LED light flashed green, pulsing rapidly.
In the cages, the dogs stopped howling. Their amber eyes locked onto Titan with absolute, unblinking hostility. Miller expected them to tear the intruder apart. He expected his masterpiece to shred the alpha to pieces.
Instead, Titan didn't even look at the caged animals. He lowered his massive head, emitted a deep, tectonic growl that rattled the dust from the ceiling, and walked straight toward Victor Miller.
Seven released the harness, taking two small steps back. She didn't look at the armed enforcers, and she didn't look at Holden. She raised her right hand, her lips moving to whisper the second word—the one meant to sever the leash forever.
“Free.”
The word echoed through the cavernous chamber like a gunshot.
Titan didn't hesitate. With a burst of raw, explosive power that defied imagination, the hundred-thirty-pound Cane Corso leaped across the room, crossing the fifteen-foot gap in a single, fluid bound. His massive jaws clamped down not on flesh, but on the radio transmitter in Miller’s hand, crushing the metal and glass into a shower of sparks and shattered plastic.
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Miller stumbled backward, tripping over a crate of computer cables and hitting the concrete floor hard.
The red LED light flickered twice and died, plunging the room into a sudden, heavy silence, broken only by the hum of the industrial generators.
