He was scanning for the next threat.
Connor knew the difference.
Everyone else saw a dangerous animal.
Connor saw panic.
Odin was not trying to attack because he was cruel.
He was trying to survive a room that felt, to him, like another ambush.
Nathan cleared his throat.
“Starting bid, five hundred dollars.”
No hands rose.
The warehouse hummed around the silence.
A fluorescent light flickered once above the auction table.
Somewhere behind the reinforced doors, another dog whined and then went quiet.
“Three hundred,” Nathan said.
Still nothing.
Wyatt’s face hardened.
