The moment Ryder's boots slipped past the edge, time shattered.

Wind rushed up into his face. His stomach dropped so hard it felt like it pulled his ribs with it. His hands were still cuffed behind his back—no way to grab a rock, no way to catch himself, no way to do anything except fall.

Cold water waited below like a dark promise.

Ryder braced—

And hit.

The shock stole the breath right out of him. The water was freezing, the impact stunning, and for a second everything was pressure and spinning darkness.

Above, Chase didn't think.

He moved.

Fury launched him forward like a spring.

He slammed into the masked man, knocking him flat. The man hit the ground with a grunt, scrambling, but Chase was already on him, teeth bared, growl shaking his whole chest.

"Chase!" Marshall shouted, rushing in.

"Zuma—Ryder!" Skye cried, eyes locked on the cliff edge.

Zuma dove before anyone could finish the sentence.

He hit the water cleanly and disappeared beneath the surface, swimming hard, fast, desperate. The current tugged. The cold bit. But Zuma didn't hesitate.

Ryder was down there.

Chase kept fighting above, claws scraping rock as the masked man struggled to shove him off. Marshall lunged in, snapping at the man's sleeve, and in the chaos—one sharp tug—

The mask came free.

Chase froze so suddenly it was like someone switched him off.

Marshall froze too.

The man's face was exposed.

And Chase's world tilted.

No.

No, no, no—

The man shoved Chase hard, sending him skidding back. Then he turned and ran—fast, like he already knew exactly where every path led.

Chase could've chased him.

Chase should've chased him.

But his paws wouldn't move.

Because he knew that face.

He'd seen it before, in Ryder's old life. In dark days. In the kind of fear that makes you learn how to stay quiet.

The kind of fear that never really leaves.

Down below, Zuma broke the surface with a gasp, scanning wildly.

Then he saw him—Ryder's jacket drifting, his body barely moving.

Zuma surged forward, grabbed Ryder's sleeve in his teeth, and hauled him toward shore with everything he had.

"Marshall!" Zuma shouted into his tag the second he could breathe. "We need you down here—NOW!"

Skye didn't wait.

Her cable snapped out, hooked Marshall, and she lifted—wings whirring as she flew him down the cliffside like she'd done it a thousand times.

Marshall hit the sand running.

Ryder lay limp, water running from his hair, his face too still.

"Ryder," Marshall whispered, panic rising. "Come on—come on."

He worked fast—checking breathing, checking pulse, using every bit of first aid Ryder ever taught them. It was harder on a human, harder without proper tools, harder with fear clawing at his focus.

But Marshall didn't stop.

Finally, Ryder coughed.

A harsh, broken sound—then another.

Water spilled from his mouth. His chest moved.

The pups exhaled as one.

"He's breathing," Marshall said, voice shaking. "He's breathing."

They moved like a unit after that.

Zuma and Rubble helped support Ryder's weight. Rocky worked the cuffs with tools from his pack. Skye guided them up safer paths. Chase... Chase followed like a shadow, eyes distant, chest tight, not speaking.

They got Ryder back to the Lookout as fast as the terrain allowed.

Marshall got Katie.

And then time blurred—whispers, pacing, waiting, the sound of the medical room door closing and not opening.

When Marshall finally stepped out, the living room went dead silent.

All six pups sat up, ears pointed, eyes wide. Katie hovered behind him, arms wrapped around herself.

Marshall took a breath. "Ryder's stable," he said. "He has injuries—broken ribs, a broken arm, and a concussion." His voice softened. "He's not awake yet... but he's okay."

Relief hit them so hard it almost knocked them over.

Skye let out a shaky yip and pressed into Zuma. Rubble's eyes watered. Rocky sagged like his whole body had been holding tension for days.

Chase didn't move.

Rubble noticed that first.

"Chase?" Rubble asked carefully. "What's with you? Why didn't you go after that man?"

Chase's face twisted.

"I—I..." His voice broke on the second sound.

Then he bolted.

He ran outside, slammed his pup house door shut, and the Lookout echoed with the sound of him crying—raw and quiet like he didn't want anyone to hear it but couldn't stop it.

The pups stared at each other, confused and unsettled.

Chase refused to explain.

Not to them.

Not yet.

Because Ryder had to be the first to know.

A few days later, Ryder woke up with a gasp.

His body jerked, pain flaring instantly—sharp in his ribs, heavy in his arm, his head throbbing like a siren.

He blinked rapidly, disoriented.

Then he recognized the room.

The Lookout infirmary.

Home.

Oh... thank God, he thought, swallowing hard as the last of the nightmare dissolved.

The clock on the wall read 10:00 p.m.

The lights were dim. The world was quiet.

Ryder turned his head—and saw Chase sitting beside the bed, eyes fixed on him like he'd been afraid Ryder might disappear again.

The second Ryder moved, Chase was up.

He climbed onto the bed carefully, pressed his whole body against Ryder's chest, and hugged him like he couldn't let go.

"Ryder sir," Chase whispered, voice shaking. "I'm glad you're okay."

Ryder exhaled, a little laugh caught in his throat. "Me too, Chase."

Chase lifted his head, and Ryder saw it—fear. Guilt. Something darker.

"What's wrong?" Ryder asked softly.

Chase swallowed. "Ryder sir... do you know who took you?"

Ryder frowned, thinking back—mask, voice, hands. "No," he admitted. "I never saw his face. But..." His eyes narrowed. "There was something familiar."

Chase's ears lowered.

Ryder's stomach sank. "Chase...?"

Chase's voice cracked. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't get him. I saw his face and... I froze."

Ryder's eyes widened. "You saw him?"

Chase squeezed his eyes shut like it hurt to say it. "Yes."

Ryder's breath caught.

Chase's voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "It was him, Ryder."

Ryder's whole body went cold, even with blankets pulled up around him.

"...My father," Ryder finished quietly.

Chase nodded and covered his face with his paws, crying.

Ryder stared at the ceiling for a second, heart pounding—not with surprise exactly, but with something worse.

The part of him that still remembered knew.

It had been years, but evil didn't change its shape. It just found new ways to fit into your life.

Ryder reached out with his good hand and pulled Chase close again. "Chase," he said, voice steady even though he felt like he was splitting in half, "you didn't fail. You saved me. I'm alive."

Chase shook in his arms.

"I understand why you hesitated," Ryder continued quietly. "He hurt both of us. You freezing doesn't make you weak. It makes you... normal."

Chase sniffed, still shaking.

Ryder's expression tightened, focus sharpening through pain. "But something doesn't add up."

Chase blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Ryder stared past him, mind already moving. "The program he forced me to build," Ryder said slowly. "It was... familiar. The structure. The patterns."

Chase's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Ryder's voice turned grim. "Like someone we know. Someone who's tried to take over Adventure Bay more times than we can count."

Chase's ears lifted sharply. "Mayor Humdinger."

Ryder nodded once. "I don't think Humdinger's after my money the way my father is. But I do think he wants the power."

Chase went still, understanding settling in.

Ryder winced as he shifted in bed. "We'll make a plan," he said. "In the morning. Right now... sleep, Chase. It's late."

Chase hesitated, then nodded.

And when he curled up beside Ryder again, Ryder didn't tell him to move.

He just closed his eyes and let himself breathe.

Skye woke up first.

That alone should've been impossible.

She blinked in confusion, listening to the Lookout's quiet, then frowned. "Huh... I'm never awake before Chase."

She checked Chase's pup house.

Empty.

Skye's ears pricked. She padded into the Lookout, moving softly, and followed the quiet upstairs

Until she found him.

Chase was curled up on the floor beside Ryder's bed, tucked close like a guard dog even in sleep.

Skye's expression melted.

"Awww," she whispered.

Not quiet enough.

Chase's eyes cracked open. He yawned, then looked up at her—and before his brain caught up, the words slipped out.

"Morning, beautiful—" He froze. "I mean... Skye."

Skye blinked.

Then her cheeks warmed.

Chase looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Skye smiled anyway, soft and teasing. "Morning, Chase."

Chase cleared his throat and scrambled up like nothing happened. "Uh—right. Wake-up duty."

But miles away—

Foggy Bottom was anything but quiet.

Mayor Humdinger stood in his hideout, grinning so wide it made his face look sharp. His kitties purred beside him as machines whirred in the background.

The robot Ryder had been forced to build stood in the center—tall, metallic, dangerous.

Humdinger practically danced around it.

"Ohhh, this is perfect," he crooned. "Perfect!"

He turned toward a large device nearby—Harold's old cloning machine, updated, humming like it had been waiting for this moment.

Humdinger flipped the switch.

Light pulsed.

Mechanical parts clicked.

And then—

Another robot.

Then another.

Then another.

Humdinger clapped his hands together, laughing. "Adventure Bay won't know what hit it!"

The door opened.

Jim stepped inside, face hard, eyes calculating.

He stared at the line of robots. "Wait," he said sharply. "I thought there was only one."

Humdinger puffed up proudly. "There was. But I cloned them!" He gestured dramatically. "Now we have an army."

Jim's mouth twisted into something almost like satisfaction. "Good," he said. "We still have one problem."

Humdinger frowned. "I thought you took care of that problem."

"I tried," Jim snapped. "I underestimated those mutts. They saved him."

Humdinger groaned. "Ugh! I always do too!"

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Ryder will know how to stop these. We need him out of the way."

Humdinger's gaze sharpened. "So what's the plan?"

Jim leaned forward slightly, voice low and ugly. "We get Ryder alone." His lips curled. "We send all the pups on a mission—something big. Something that takes every last one of them away from the Lookout."

Humdinger's ears practically perked. "And then?"

Jim's smile was thin. "Then I deal with my son."

Humdinger leaned back, thinking, eyes glittering with scheming.

He had to come up with a mission big enough to pull the PAW Patrol away.

Big enough to leave Ryder unguarded.

And this time...

they wouldn't underestimate the pups.