Orion shifted then, not dramatically, but enough to change the dynamic. His head lifted fully, his eyes locking onto Collins with a focus that was impossible to misinterpret if you knew what you were looking at. There was no aggression in it, no bared teeth or raised hackles, but there was something else—something controlled, measured, and very, very aware.
Collins noticed, but he interpreted it incorrectly. “You need to control your dog,” he said, his tone tightening. “Or I’ll have animal control come pick it up.”
Victor’s hand moved, resting lightly against Orion’s neck, fingers pressing just enough to communicate something without words. The dog stilled instantly, though his gaze did not waver.
“He’s under control,” Victor said.
Collins took another step forward, closing the distance in a way that shifted the balance from conversation to confrontation. “Not from where I’m standing.”
