He adjusted his coat and walked toward the entrance, when a small, trembling voice stopped him.

“Sir… may I sleep in your dog’s house tonight?”

Ethan froze. For a second, he thought he imagined it. Then he turned — and saw her. A little girl, drenched to the bone, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

He frowned. “What did you say?”

She swallowed hard. “Please. I’ll be quiet. I just need to stay dry. Just for tonight.”

Ethan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t even own a dog. But the fear and exhaustion in her face pierced something deep inside him — something he had buried years ago when he lost his wife and unborn child in a car crash.