“ADMIT YOU LIED, OR YOU’RE STAYING IN THERE!”
Staff Sergeant Vanessa Black slammed the kennel gate.
My name is Private Sophia Miller.
I was twenty-two years old, and I had only been assigned to the military working-dog unit for six months.
Three days earlier, I had discovered that several trained military dogs had been transferred to a base that closed years ago.
The paperwork said the transfers were complete.
But there were no valid receiving signatures.
No veterinary clearance documents.
And no explanation for why the destination no longer existed.
When I reported the discrepancy, Vanessa ordered me to change the records.
I refused.
That evening, she summoned me to the kennel facility.
It was raining.
The moment I arrived, she grabbed my collar and shoved me into a narrow gated corridor beside two Belgian Malinois.
The dogs lunged against their own secured fencing, barking and snarling.
I backed against the wall.
“PLEASE! LET ME OUT!”
Vanessa laughed.
Then she poured a bucket of cold water over my head.
I fell to my knees, sobbing.
“Say you invented the missing-dog report!”
“I DIDN’T!”
She held my identification badge above me.
“Then you can stay here until you learn to obey.”
Suddenly, someone shouted from the entrance.
“OPEN THAT GATE!”
Captain Ryan Cooper.
The kennel commander.
He ordered a handler to secure the dogs, opened the corridor, and helped me to my feet.
Vanessa tried to drag me back.
When the captain intervened, she struck him.
He defended himself until the handler could assist.
Then I pointed toward the kennel office.
“Sir, she changed the transfer orders!”
Cooper examined the paperwork.
His face went pale.
“These dogs were sent to Fort Ashby?”
I nodded.
“But Fort Ashby closed seven years ago.”
The captain turned the page.
Then he stopped breathing for a moment.
Because beneath the fake destination was a second authorization number.
One he recognized.
It belonged to a classified transport account that had supposedly been shut down after an investigation into missing military equipment.
And the name of the approving officer was someone Captain Cooper knew personally.
His own commanding officer.
Vanessa suddenly screamed:
“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO YOU’RE ACCUSING!”
Cooper looked toward the locked transport garage.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Private Miller, how many dogs are missing?”
“Seven, sir.”
He shook his head.
“Then we have a much bigger problem.”
READ THE NEXT PART IN THE COMMENTS.
