Page 33 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

Still, she’d been better about it in the past, reminding herself that this was how she made room to save more lives. Rehabilitation. Rehoming. Repeat. But Carl wasn’t just any dog. He had filled in the cracks in her heart that she didn’t even know were there.

Her mom had taught her early not to get attached to anything or anyone.

Not homes. Not friends. Not people. They moved constantly, chasing the next man, the next “fresh start.” Savannah had learned how to pack a life in a box and leave before anything could grow roots.

She’d raised Lucy half the time, soothed her nightmares, made sure she had clean clothes and food, while their mother played house with her latest boyfriend.

Some of them ignored her. A few watched her too closely.

Her mom hadn’t noticed—except once. That time, she’d actually packed up and moved again, almost overnight.

After that, Savannah learned to rely on herself. To need no one.

Until now.

Until Dylan.

He’d come into her life as just another client.

Another clueless dog owner with a chewed-up couch and no idea what to do.

She was supposed to help him, train his dog, and leave.

But somehow, he’d pulled her in. With his gruff heart and quiet pain, with the way he watched her like she was something precious.

He hadn’t asked her to save him—but she’d tried, anyway. Because she didn’t know how not to.

And now, just like Carl, Dylan was leaving.

Whether he took another contract or not, he wouldn’t stay. That was the nature of his world. Always moving, always in flux. She’d known that from the beginning, tried to protect herself. But now, the thought of him walking away—of her walking away—felt like it would rip her heart from her chest.

No, not just her heart.

Her whole goddamn soul.

Her phone buzzed on the counter.

Pickup time.

She wiped her face, her hands shaking, and stood up. Carl followed her to the door, ears perked, tail wagging, completely unaware that this was goodbye.

She looked down at him, and her knees buckled a little. “You’re going to have a good life,” she whispered, kneeling to wrap her arms around him. “A better life. One you deserve.”

Carl licked her chin and leaned into her, and she choked on the sob that tore free from her throat.

Then she stood, squared her shoulders, and picked up the bag.

S avannah wiped her eyes one last time, the tissue crumpled and useless in her trembling hand.

She grabbed Carl’s leash with fingers that felt brittle, like they might snap under the weight of what she was about to do.

Behind her, Lucy leaned casually against the doorjamb, silent and watchful, sipping coffee from a chipped mug that didn’t match the sharpness in her gaze.

She wore a bright bikini top and a pair of shorts so short they barely qualified as clothing, her usual post-bar uniform.

Oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes, though Savannah suspected they had more to do with masking the hangover than the morning sun.

Savannah turned her back on her sister and focused on collecting Carl’s things—his frayed rope toy, the blanket he always dragged into the corner of the couch, the treat pouch he knew meant a reward. Each item was a goodbye wrapped in fabric and fur.

“What are you doing?” Lucy asked, her voice oddly quiet, like she already knew the answer and hated it.

“Getting Carl ready for his new family.” Savannah didn’t look up, couldn’t.

“That’s not what I mean.” Lucy pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, her bare feet whispering over the floor. She reached out and grabbed the bag of toys from Savannah’s hands, lifting it out of reach like they were kids again.

Savannah straightened, eyes flashing. “Now you want to help? Fine. Bring that to the car.”

“Not yet.” Lucy’s voice cut sharply through the air. “What are you doing, Vannie? You care about him—really care. More than you’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And you’re just going to hand him over like he’s any other dog?”

Savannah exhaled through gritted teeth, crossing her arms in front of her chest like armor. “Look, Lucy, I don’t expect you to understand this. It’s my job . What I do. I help dogs heal, and then I let them go so I can help more. It’s not about me. It’s about them.”

“He is one of them!” Lucy snapped. “But he’s not just one of them anymore.

You’ve bonded with him. Look at him.” She gestured toward Carl, who lay curled on the floor by the couch, head resting heavily on his paws, eyes vacant.

“He hasn’t played in days. He doesn’t follow you around like he used to.

He knows, Savannah. He knows he’s losing you, and it’s breaking him. ”

Savannah blinked fast, her throat burning. Her arms fell to her sides. “Don’t do this, Lucy.”

“Why not? Someone has to. You’re too busy pretending this doesn’t hurt like hell. And I get it, okay? I get why it’s easier to pretend. But Carl’s shutting down. You’re shutting down. You think this is strength, but it’s not—it’s fear.”

Savannah's voice cracked. “I can’t keep him.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because if I keep him,” she choked out, “then I make space for just one dog. One. And I’ll see another dog in the shelter, on death row, and I won’t have a place for it. And that one might die. Carl will be fine.”

“Will he?” Lucy dropped into a crouch next to the dog, her fingers stroking his ears gently. Carl didn’t lift his head. “He’s already halfway gone.”

Savannah’s knees buckled, and she sat hard on the edge of the couch, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll adjust.”

Lucy’s tone softened, but the steel remained. “Who are you trying to convince—me or yourself?”

Savannah didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Lucy stood, wiping her palms on her thighs. “Every rescuer has a foster fail. It’s not a failure—it’s recognizing when a bond is meant to last. Even Bob has a dog he kept, and he’s the most emotionally stunted person I’ve ever met.”

Savannah gave a choked laugh, tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to work.”

“No,” Lucy said gently, “it’s not. But maybe this time, it should.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with grief and guilt and something fragile and unnamed. Lucy shoved the bag of toys into Savannah’s lap. “Figure it out, Vannie. Because you’re not just breaking his heart. You’re breaking yours too.”

She turned and walked out, the screen door banging hard behind her. Savannah flinched at the sound, but Carl didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even flick his ears.

She looked at him then, really looked—his stillness, the sorrow in his big, brown eyes, the way his body seemed to curl inward. He wasn’t just waiting to go. He was waiting to disappear.

Savannah crumpled over the bag in her lap, her shoulders shaking. “God, Carl, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and for the first time in days, he shifted, pressed his weight against her leg, and let out a low, aching sigh.

She didn’t know what she was going to do.

But she knew one thing.

Letting him go might not be the right kind of saving.