The pups didn't let Ryder sit with the letter alone.

They crowded around him as he read it out loud, pressing close like warmth could stitch the hurt back together. Marshall leaned into Ryder's side. Skye's ears drooped. Rubble's tail thumped softly against the floor like he didn't know what else to do with sadness.

Chase stayed closest.

When Ryder finished, he swallowed hard and pulled Chase into a hug—an extra one, tight and lingering, because his mom had asked him to.

Chase didn't say anything. He just held on.

After a moment, Chase finally cleared his throat. "Ryder sir... what are we going to do with all that money?"

Ryder blinked, like he'd forgotten the number for a second. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I've been thinking... I could build more gear. Better equipment. Safer equipment. For all of you."

Rubble's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Rubble froze, then gave an awkward chuckle. "Oh—excuse me. I guess I'm hungry."

A small smile tugged at Ryder's mouth. It didn't fix the pain, but it softened the edges. "Dinner it is," he decided.

He filled six bowls, then made something simple for himself. The Lookout felt quieter than usual, like even the walls were trying to be respectful.

Still... no calls came in.

Ryder should've been relieved.

Instead, the silence felt strange—like a pause before something shifted.

Marshall, however, couldn't stop thinking about the letter. He glanced up, brow furrowed. "Ryder... why did your mom say to be careful around your dad?"

Ryder's entire body tensed.

His eyes flicked away like the question was a bright light. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I don't like talking about him."

Marshall opened his mouth, wanting to ask more, but Chase's stare shut the words down before they could get out.

Chase didn't blame Ryder. He never had.

Some things weren't stories you told. They were things you survived.

Skye broke the heavy silence first, voice careful and hopeful. "Can we... watch a movie tonight? Please?"

Six sets of eyes turned to Ryder.

Ryder exhaled and nodded. "Yeah. We can do that."

The pups yipped, and for a little while, the Lookout felt like it was supposed to—safe, loud, full of life. Ryder put on a movie, and the pups piled together on the floor like a fluffy fortress.

Halfway through, Ryder's pup pad buzzed again.

He reached for it, expecting the Mayor, or a call for help.

Instead, it was Katie.

Ryder answered quietly. "Ryder here."

"Hey," Katie said. "I just... wanted to check in. How are you doing?"

Ryder stared at the movie without really seeing it. "I've been better," he admitted. "But... I'm okay."

Katie's voice softened. "Did the lawyer come?"

Ryder swallowed. "Yeah." He hesitated, then let the words out. "I got my mom's will. And... apparently I'm a millionaire. At ten."

There was a beat of silence.

"Ryder," Katie said, stunned. "That's—wow."

Ryder let out a shaky breath. "I have a lot of ideas," he said. "Things I can build. Things that can help the pups. This money... it changes what I can do."

"I'm really glad you have that," Katie said gently. Then, quieter: "And I'm still so sorry about your mom."

Ryder closed his eyes for a second. "Thanks, Katie."

"I'm here if you need to talk," she added.

"I know." Ryder forced a small smile into his voice. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ryder."

When the call ended, Ryder looked down at the pups.

All six of them had fallen asleep during the movie—Marshall sprawled out like he'd melted, Skye curled into a tight ball, Rubble half on his back, Zuma tucked in close, Rocky folded neatly, and Chase... Chase facing the door like he was guarding Ryder even in sleep.

Ryder's chest squeezed.

He stepped carefully over paws and tails, making sure they were comfortable, then quietly grabbed his jacket.

He didn't want to be inside the Lookout right now. Not with his head so loud.

He needed air.

Ryder walked outside and headed toward the cliff, where the ocean stretched out and the world felt bigger than grief for a second. He stared out at the water, breathing in the salty wind—

A sharp sting pricked the side of his neck.

Ryder's hand flew up, fingers brushing something that wasn't supposed to be there.

His vision tilted.

He tried to turn.

Tried to shout.

But the world folded in on itself—

And everything went black.

At 7:00 a.m., Chase woke up first, like always.

He climbed off the pile of sleeping pups and grabbed the megaphone out of habit. "Morning, pups! Time to get up!"

A chorus of groans answered him as the others slowly sat up, blinking and stretching.

They trotted into the kitchen expecting bowls already filled.

Instead—nothing.

Rubble's ears drooped. "Aw... I thought breakfast was ready."

Chase frowned. "That's weird," he murmured. "Ryder's always up before us."

A cold edge slid into his voice as he moved quickly down the hall.

He checked Ryder's room.

The bed hadn't been slept in.

Chase froze.

Then he turned and sprinted for the elevator, heart pounding.

Control room. Garage. Balcony.

Nothing.

Ryder wasn't anywhere.

Marshall followed him in, confused, then worried the moment he saw Chase's face. "Chase... where's Ryder?"

"I don't know," Chase said, voice going thin. He tapped his pup tag. "Ryder... Ryder, come in."

Static answered him.

Skye whined, ears flattened. "That's not good. Ryder always answers."

Zuma's tail lowered. "Chase..."

Chase's chest tightened so hard it hurt. He tried again. "Ryder! Come in!"

More static.

Then Chase did the one thing he didn't want to do—because saying it out loud made it real.

He called Katie.

Katie answered immediately. "Hello?"

"Katie," Chase said fast, panic leaking through his voice, "have you seen Ryder?"

"No," Katie said, instantly alarmed. "I talked to him last night, but he didn't—Chase, what's happening?"

"He's not here," Chase choked out. "His bed wasn't slept in. We... we don't know where he is."

There was a beat of silence, then Katie's voice went sharp with urgency. "I'm on my way."

Ryder woke up in a room he didn't recognize.

His body jolted upright, breath punching out of him as panic hit full force. He looked around—blank walls, harsh lighting, no windows. A steel door.

No handle on the inside.

His stomach dropped further when he realized something else.

His pup pad was gone.

His tag was gone.

He looked up and spotted a small camera in the corner.

Watching.

Ryder's hands curled into fists. Think. Think.

He tried the door anyway, pushing hard—nothing. He pressed his ear to it, straining for sound.

Footsteps.

Coming closer.

Ryder backed up instinctively.

The door opened.

A large man stepped inside wearing a mask that covered his face completely. His presence filled the room, heavy and confident, like he'd done this before.

"Hello, Ryder," the man said calmly. "You're probably wondering why you're here."

Ryder stared at him, refusing to speak first.

The man chuckled, like silence amused him. "I have a job for you," he continued. "I know about your sudden wealth. And I know what you can build."

Ryder's voice came out tight. "Why would I help you?"

The man leaned in slightly. "Because if you don't... the things you care about won't be safe," he said softly. "And I'll make sure you understand that."

Ryder's blood ran cold.

He thought of the pups.

Six sleeping bodies in a pile. Six loyal hearts who trusted him to keep them safe.

"Don't hurt them," Ryder said, voice breaking despite his effort. "Please."

"That depends on you," the man replied smoothly. "A computer and supplies will be brought in. You're going to build a software program for me."

Ryder swallowed. "I... I don't know how."

The man's laugh was low. "Oh, Ryder," he said, like it was a joke. "I think you do. The details will be delivered shortly."

Then he turned and left, locking Ryder back inside.

A few minutes later, a young woman—maybe around twenty—entered carrying boxes. She didn't look like the masked man. She looked... nervous.

She set the supplies down and avoided Ryder's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It'll go smoother for everyone if you just do what's needed."

Ryder stared at her. "Who are you?"

She shook her head once. "That's not important." She placed a bagel and a water bottle down with the supplies. "Here. Breakfast. Instructions are in the folder."

Then she left.

Ryder's stomach growled painfully. He didn't want to eat anything from these people—but hunger was hunger. He took a careful bite.

Then he opened the folder.

His brows pulled together as he read the project details.

This looks like... the kind of thing Harold Humdinger the mayor's nephew built.

Ryder's heart kicked.

Was Mayor Humdinger behind this mask?

He didn't recognize the voice.

And whoever it was, they weren't just stealing money.

They were using him.

Ryder stared at the screen, at the code outline, at the supplies meant to trap him into obedience.

His vision blurred.

He wiped his eyes hard, furious at himself for crying—then cried anyway, because fear didn't care what he wanted.

Somewhere outside, the pups were looking for him.

And Ryder had no way to tell them where he was.