The gates stood wide open. My heart dropped. Max would never allow that; he didn't just let gates swing open. That meant someone had been there. That meant she had been there.
I parked fast, engine still running, and sprinted up the path. The porch light flickered—the one I always kept off. My key turned in the lock, but the door was already ajar. I pushed it open slowly, hand raised, ears straining.
That's when I heard it: the unmistakable sound of shuffling papers. Someone was inside.
And then I heard another sound, low and rumbling, like distant thunder building inside a chest: Max.
I stepped inside. The living room was dim, lit only by the glow of a flashlight beam darting across my shelves. And there she was: HOA Karen herself, blazer slightly askew, hair frizzed from humidity, her precious clipboard tucked under one arm while she rifled through my drawers with the other.
For a second, I was almost impressed. The audacity it took to waltz into someone else's home like she owned it was staggering. But whatever smug satisfaction she'd carried in had evaporated, because there, between her and the door, stood Max.
His body was rigid, muscles coiled, tail straight. His ears were forward, eyes locked on her every movement. His teeth weren't bared, not yet, but the growl rumbling through him was so deep it vibrated the air.
Karen froze, her flashlight wobbling. "Good dog," she stammered, her voice higher than usual. "Nice doggy. I'm just here on official business."
"Official business?" I almost laughed out loud. She sounded like a cop caught sneaking into a doughnut shop after hours.
She tried again, this time louder, as if reasoning with him. "You don't want to hurt me. I'm the president of this community. I have authority here."
Max took one step forward, slow and deliberate. She flinched, backing into the edge of my coffee table with a clatter.
Her voice trembled. "Stay back! I... I'll call the police!"
Max didn't move. He just held her there, a silent sentinel, eyes burning with a focus that said, One wrong move and you'll regret it.
From the doorway, I finally spoke. "Go ahead," I said, my voice cold. "Call them. Let's see who they arrest: me for living in my own house, or you for breaking into it."