(Mia)

Chase trotted back outside to rejoin the others, and for once Ryder just stood there for a second with this quiet, stupid-happy smile on his face. Seeing Seraphine and Lulu again had done something he didn't realize he needed so badly—it made the island feel real in a way that wasn't only fear and sickness. He made a mental note to get the Air Patroller ready soon. Not for a mission. Just... a visit. A thank-you that didn't fit inside a video call.

His pup pad rang.

"Ryder here."

"Ryder!" Jake's voice crackled through, half-panicked. "Snow season's coming early and I was testing equipment—uh—my ski lift is broken, and the gear fell on me and now I'm stuck!"

Ryder's posture snapped into leader-mode automatically. "Don't worry, Jake. We're on our way. No ski lift is too broken—no pup is too small."

He hit the all-call. "PAW Patrol to the Lookout!"

"Ryder needs us!" the pups shouted, already sprinting.

Rocky tried to warn him—"Marshall, watch out!"—but it was too late. Marshall tripped over a skateboard, rolled right into the elevator, and popped up grinning. "I guess I needed to roll my way in!"

Even Ryder chuckled as they geared up.

At the top, Chase barked crisply, "PAW Patrol ready for action, Ryder sir!"

"Thanks for hurrying, pups. Jake's chair lift broke and a gear fell on him," Ryder explained quickly. Rubble's ears dipped with a worried little whine. Ryder kept going, steady and calm. "For this mission I need Rocky. Fix the chair lift and help Jake with the gear."

"Green means go!" Rocky said, already vibrating with focus.

"And I'll need Marshall—EMT gear. Make sure Jake's okay."

"I'm ready for a ruff ruff rescue!"

"All right," Ryder finished, "PAW Patrol is on a roll!"

Ryder slid down the fire pole, the pups took the slide, and minutes later they were tearing up the mountain road.

The mission went smoother than Ryder expected. Rocky stabilized the lift, freed Jake, and had the controls humming again like nothing ever happened. Marshall checked Jake from head to toe, tail swishing in that serious-doctor way he got.

"No breaks, no swelling," Marshall decided. "You're sore, but you're okay, Jake."

Jake let out a breath he'd clearly been holding. "Thank you, Marshall. And thank you, Ryder."

Rocky hopped down from the control panel proudly. "Chair lift is fixed and fully operational, Ryder!"

"Good job, Rocky," Ryder said, then nodded at Jake. "And Jake—whenever you're in trouble, just yelp for help."

As they headed down, Marshall glanced around. "Where's Everest?"

Jake waved toward the treeline. "She's doing a sweep. Making sure everything's ready for tonight's snowstorm."

Marshall's ears perked at that, but Ryder was already thinking ahead: early snow meant more calls, more rescues, more chances for the town to need them.

They returned to the Lookout and barely had time to step inside before Ryder noticed a figure walking up the driveway.

Chase froze first.

Then he growled—low, sharp, protective. "You."

Ryder turned, instantly alert. "Chase—stop. Right now."

The girl stopped at the edge of the yard, hands lifted a little like she didn't want to spook anyone. Her voice trembled, but she held herself together.

"Hi. I'm Mia. I'm... I'm really sorry. I caused you to come out in the storm and I almost got you killed."

Ryder recognized her immediately, and the shock hit him harder than he expected. Not anger—just that jolt of memory. Foggy Bottom. A locked room. A voice that wasn't cruel.

"It's okay," Ryder said, careful and honest. "I should've called my pups. I tried to do it alone."

Mia's face pinched. Like she'd hoped he wouldn't remember her at all.

Ryder's gaze sharpened anyway. "I know you. You were there when my dad—"

Chase's growl returned, louder this time, and the pups instinctively stepped closer, forming a protective half-circle around Ryder.

"Pups," Ryder said, firm enough that even Chase stiffened, "stop. Seriously."

Mia swallowed. "Yes. I was there. But I wasn't doing it willingly. He threatened my daughter. I couldn't—" Her voice cracked. "I couldn't risk her life. I just... I wanted to apologize, and then leave."

She turned like she meant it.

"Wait," Ryder said quickly.

Mia paused.

Ryder stepped forward, ignoring the way Chase shifted anxiously. "I forgive you. You... helped me, Mia. You brought me food. You talked to me when you didn't have to. You kept me sane."

Mia's eyes glistened, like she didn't believe she deserved that sentence.

Ryder's voice softened. "Is your daughter okay?"

Mia nodded, but it looked complicated. "She's fine. She lives in Foggy Bottom with her dad. He has custody. I see her... sometimes."

Ryder's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Mia said, and Ryder could tell it wasn't. "I wasn't always a good mom. She's better off with him. I just needed to say my peace."

She walked away before Ryder could say anything else, disappearing down the driveway like she'd been afraid to stay long enough to be hated.

Chase exhaled hard, still tense. "I'm sorry, Ryder sir. I didn't mean to get angry, but she almost got you killed twice."

Ryder's eyes narrowed—not at Mia, but at the way Chase was framing it. "Chase. She didn't mean to. Neither time was her fault. And she helped me when she could've done nothing."

Chase's ears flattened. "I'm sorry."

Ryder's expression eased. He reached down and petted him, grounding both of them. "I get it. You're protecting me. But I can fight my own battles too."

Chase nodded and licked Ryder's hand once like a promise.

Ryder smiled. "Okay. Lunch time, pups."

Rubble didn't need to be asked twice. The whole team piled inside, and for a little while it felt normal again—sandwiches, kibble, Rocky stealing crumbs off the floor, Marshall side-eyeing Ryder's cough like he could diagnose it from across the room.

After lunch the pups spilled back outside for soccer. Ryder stayed near the door, watching.

Then Chase sneezed so violently he stumbled over the ball.

"AAACHOO!"

Skye ran to him immediately. "Chase! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Chase muttered, sniffing—then sneezed again. "AAACHOO... kittens."

Ryder looked up sharply.

At the edge of the yard stood Mayor Humdinger—with the Catastrophe Crew weaving around his feet like they owned the place. One kitten brushed too close to Chase's legs and Chase sneezed again, miserable.

Marshall didn't even hesitate. "Ruff—water cannon!"

A quick burst of water sent the kitten scrambling back, offended and damp.

Ryder stepped forward, stomach tightening the way it always did now around Humdinger. He forced his shoulders back. No fear. Not out loud.

"Anything we can do for you, Mayor?" Ryder asked, and his tone came out sharper than he meant.

Humdinger tilted his head like he was offended Ryder didn't roll out a red carpet. "No need to be rude. I came to check on you. I heard about your accident."

Ryder's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you really cared."

Humdinger put a dramatic hand to his chest. "I came as a good citizen offering best wishes. And I brought you this." He held out a neatly wrapped box.

Ryder's fingers went cold. "What is it?"

"A birthday gift," Humdinger said brightly. "Not every day a boy turns eleven."

He gathered his kittens and rolled away on his kitty carrier like he'd just done something kind instead of unsettling.

Rubble stared after him, then turned to Ryder, dead serious. "Don't open it. It could be a bomb."

Ryder snorted, half-laughing even though his stomach still felt tight. "Chase—sniff it."

Chase crept closer, sniffed the box carefully, sneezed once because kitten scent still lingered, then shook his head. "I can't tell what it is, Ryder sir... but it doesn't smell like a bomb."

Ryder slowly opened it anyway.

Empty.

Skye's ears drooped. "What a cruel joke. That mayor is awful."

Ryder stared at the box for a second... then, unexpectedly, he laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was ridiculous, and for once it didn't hurt.

"Well," Ryder said, setting the box down, "I didn't expect much. But he did get me to laugh."

The pups shook their heads, already moving on, already deciding Humdinger wasn't worth the time.

Ryder was still smiling when, somewhere far away in Foggy Bottom, Mayor Humdinger leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself.

Because the box looked empty.

But it wasn't.