"Alright, that should do it."

As the nanny began to brush the dog's fur, it was the closest she had ever been to Fitch, her hands trembling slightly with

nervousness.

Ozzy was still a pup, so grooming him didn't take long.

Once Ozzy was brushed and looking sharp, Fitch scooped him up, intending to attach his new dog tag. But the tag was too heavy

for the little guy; it would just get in the way when he walked.

With a casual toss, Fitch placed the tag in a corner of the bedroom and set Ozzy down on the floor.

In the middle of the night, Fitch was awakened by Ozzy's whimpers. Flicking on the bedside lamp, he saw the puppy curled up

under the bed, not in his cozy little bed.

Worried, Fitch picked up Ozzy and gave him a gentle shake. The puppy didn't open his eyes or respond.

Panicked, Fitch dialed the vet, asking for an immediate house call. But then, thinking better of it, he started throwing on his trench

coat.

"I'll cover. Meetat the clinic; we've got all the meds there."

He draped his coat over his pajamas, wrapped Ozzy in a nearby scarf, and rushed out to his car.

Driving himself, Fitch reached the clinic in ten minutes. He strode in, holding Ozzy close, a grim look on his face.

After the vet had checked the little dog, poking and prodding, he cto a conclusion.

"Mr. Haskins, Ozzy might just have been a nightmare."

Perhaps the near-drowning incident had left Ozzy with restless sleep.

The vets eyed Fitch, who was an odd sight in his black pajamas and overcoat. Fitch was known for his composure, and this

disheveled look was a shock to everyone.

Trying not to stare, they handed Ozzy back.

"It's normal, Mr. Haskins. Puppies need sleep and, just like humans, they dream. A little shake usually wakes them up."

Fitch let out a sigh of relief, and looking at Ozzy now back to normal, he couldn't be mad.

"Thank you," he said.

Cradling Ozzy, he walked out of the clinic.

Back at his car, the gossip among the staff began.

"Who said he was cold-hearted? Look how he rushed for his little mutt. Seems pretty tender to me."

"You're calling the heir to the Haskins family tender? Do you know how young he was when he took over? He had the rest of them

under his thumb."

"People who love pets can't be that heartless."

"Maybe it's a gift from someone he likes. Heartless to others, different to someone special. I ship it."

"Do we even know who he likes?"

"No idea."

The gossip went round in circles, but no one knew who Fitch fancied.

Meanwhile, Fitch was driving back home, with Ozzy comfortably asleep on the passenger seat, cushioned by a luxury scarf.

Back in his bedroom, Fitch gently placed Ozzy into the bedside dog bed. The puppy fell into a deeper sleep.

Fitch watched him for a moment, unsure of what he was looking for.

When he returned to bed, sleep eluded him. It wasn't his first bout of insomnia, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason for it.

lan woke up again in the middle of the night, an itch deep in his bones jolting him awake.

He grabbed something from beside him and went downstairs, the pain and itching causing cold sweat to form on his neck.

He leaned back on the sofa, his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

His phone rang. It was Nydia.

"Got a lead on Patric. He's been seen near the fight club circuit."

"You sure?"

Nydia's lips were clamped around a cigarette, her face smirking. "Doubting my skills? I'm surprised he showed up in North America

too. Thought about grabbing him, but he vanished quick. But you've settled your score with him, why the sudden interest?"

lan had a hunch that it wasn't over. Patric, as a successful subject, wouldn't they want to recapture him?

He wasn't sure, so finding Patric seemed like the right move.

"Nydia, keep an eye out for anyone tailing him."

"Will do."

After hanging up, lan thought about calling Bernard, but it was too late. He sat on the sofa until dawn.

As soon as the day broke, Bernard called him in for a talk.

Without hesitation, lan left a note for Maja, took Jeff, and headed over. Bernard was almost family, after all, and a close friend of

Holden's.

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