creature, discarded like garbage on a blazing highway, an intense, righteous fury
ignited within them.
“Who the hell does something like this?” Jax growled, his fists clenched so tight
his knuckles were white. Several bikers muttered curses, their faces darkening with
anger.
Big Jim didn't speak. He gently scooped the fragile puppy into his massive,
calloused hands. The dog felt lighter than a feather, its tiny heartbeat fluttering
wildly against Jim’s leather vest. He cradled it against his chest, shielding it from the
sun.
“Water. Now,” Jim barked.
Immediately, three bikers sprinted to their saddlebags. A canteen was uncapped
and brought over. Jim poured a small amount of cool water into the palm of his
hand and brought it to the puppy’s snout. The dog didn’t react at first, but then a
tiny, dry pink tongue darted out, lapping weakly at the moisture.
“We can’t wait for animal control,” Jim announced, looking up at his crew. “This
little guy won’t make it another hour out here. Jax, figure out where the nearest
emergency vet is. We’re taking him in.”