The receptionist finally gasped, one hand flying to her mouth, as the German Shepherd pressed farther inside. The sound of his paws echoed down the hallway like a ticking clock. A nurse peeked out from behind the counter, her eyes widening.

“Where did he come from?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “This is dangerous. Call security upstairs.”

By now, the late-night staff had taken notice. Nurses emerged from their stations, some instinctively backing up against the walls, pressing themselves out of his path. A German Shepherd loose in the hospital—dripping wet, panting, moving with absolute determination. Nothing about it felt right.

Yet there was something different. Max didn’t growl. He didn’t bark. His jaw stayed shut, his focus unbroken. He wasn’t frantic or lost. He was following a path only he seemed to know.