Chapter 1 — Rush Hour Standstill

Tobias "Toby" Lane

The wail of an ambulance siren cut through the rhythmic cacophony of honking horns, but the sound barely made a dent in the chaos of the Central Crossway Interchange. Tobias Lane gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale under the strain, and leaned forward to peer through the windshield. Static crackled from the radio clipped to his dash, garbled voices overlapping as paramedics across the city tried to manage a deluge of emergencies.

The glaring notification on the tablet mounted to his dash was impossible to ignore: *Medical supplies in critical demand at Riverside Hospital ER.* Toby exhaled a slow, measured breath, willing himself to suppress the frustration mounting in his chest. Somewhere across the city, patients relied on the crates of equipment in the back of his ambulance—supplies that could stabilize someone struggling for breath or stop the bleeding from a catastrophic injury. And here he was, wheels locked in place, trapped by the endless rows of brake lights stretching to the horizon.

He ran a hand over his face, damp from the humid air seeping through the vents. Every shortcut was blocked, every side street a dead end of crimson traffic on the map. Helplessness clawed at him, a sensation he despised. He ran his thumb over the scar on his left hand—a small, grounding gesture, his stubborn tether to calm when his thoughts churned.

The chaos of the city pressed in on him. A minivan to his left idled as its driver gesticulated wildly to someone on a hands-free call, her voice rising above the muffled hum of engines. To his right, a yellow hatchback vibrated faintly with the pounding bass of music loud enough to be felt even through its closed windows. The faint scent of rain on asphalt mingled with exhaust fumes, a sharp reminder of the unpredictable weather forecast for the day.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cranking down the volume on the radio as another burst of static erupted. For a moment, he considered stepping out of the vehicle. Not for anything useful—just to move, to escape the confines of the cab and the mounting pressure inside his head.

Movement in his peripheral vision broke his thoughts. A woman had stepped out of a teal SUV several cars ahead, her brightly colored shirt—a splash of vibrant energy against the dreary backdrop of idling vehicles—drawing his eye. The embroidered logo on her chest read *Haven Park Zoo*, and her auburn curls bounced as she darted between stopped cars with surprising grace.

Toby frowned as he watched her crouch near the edge of the highway, peering under a sedan. A second later, she straightened, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Here, boy! Come on, it’s okay!”

A wiry stray dog crept out from under the car, its ribs stark against its patchy fur. It moved hesitantly, its thin frame trembling as it tested the woman’s soft calls. Her voice was soothing, coaxing. But as she inched closer, the dog bolted, weaving between car bumpers and darting toward the cluster of vehicles where Toby sat.

He sighed, low and resigned, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Not your problem,” he muttered under his breath, but the words felt hollow. His instincts overrode his better judgment, as they always did. He pushed open the door and stepped into the oppressive heat, the chaos of the interchange hitting him in full force—the honking horns, the muffled arguments, the low rumble of engines all forming a discordant symphony.

Jogging toward the dog, Toby spotted the woman trailing close behind, her expression determined. “Hey!” she called, her green eyes flashing as they locked on him. “I saw him first. He’s scared—you can’t just—”

“I’m not trying to fight you over a dog,” Toby interrupted, his tone calm but edged with impatience. “I was just going to help.”

She stopped, her shoulders still tense. Her gaze flicked to his uniform, and some of the tension eased. “Okay, fine,” she said, her tone more measured now. “But don’t scare him off. He’s terrified.”

Toby’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of humorless amusement. “Noted,” he said. He crouched low, mirroring her position, and extended a hand toward the stray. His voice softened into the steady, patient tone he used with anxious patients. “Easy, buddy. You’re all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

The dog flinched at his voice, its body taut with fear. Its wary eyes darted between him and the woman, as if weighing whether to trust them.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured, her auburn curls brushing the edge of his shoulder as she knelt beside him. There was something melodic in her voice, an unguarded warmth that stood out against the harsh backdrop of the interchange. “Animals, I mean. You’ve got the whole calm, reassuring thing down.”

“I do this kind of thing for a living,” Toby replied dryly, keeping his focus on the dog. “Not exactly the same, but close enough.”

She laughed, soft and genuine, and the sound caught him off guard. He glanced at her, briefly. The smudge of dirt on her temple and the vibrant clash of her shirt against the gray monotony of the freeway struck him as strangely endearing. She exuded a kind of energy that felt wholly out of place here, and yet, it fit her perfectly.

“Zadie Mercer,” she said abruptly, as if reading the unspoken question in his expression. “Zookeeper.”

“Tobias Lane. Paramedic,” he replied, clipped but polite.

“Nice to meet you, Tobias Lane.” A teasing smile tugged at her lips, and he felt the corner of his mouth lift in spite of himself.

The dog interrupted their exchange by taking a cautious step forward. Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air, testing their outstretched hands.

“It’s okay,” Zadie whispered, her voice gentle but deliberate. “You’re safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The hesitant creature edged closer, its ribs jutting like fragile wings beneath its dull fur. Its eyes locked on Zadie’s hand, and then, with a burst of courage, it pressed its muzzle into her palm.

“There we go,” she breathed, emotion trembling faintly in her voice. Her fingers moved gently, scratching behind the dog’s ears, and the tension in its wiry frame eased.

Toby straightened slowly, brushing off his uniform. “You’ve got a way with animals,” he said, quieter now, a small note of admiration slipping into his voice before he could stop it.

Zadie looked up at him, her green eyes gleaming with warmth. “I should hope so. It’s kind of my thing.”

For a moment, the chaos of the city melted into the background. The dog leaned against Zadie’s leg, its scruffy tail wagging cautiously, and Toby felt a flicker of calm settle in his chest. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one he wasn’t sure how to process.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, “now what?”

Zadie grinned up at him, her smile wide and unapologetic. “Now we figure out how to get out of this jam without losing our new friend.”

Toby shook his head, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his shift, but something about Zadie’s determination made it surprisingly hard to argue.

As they turned back toward their vehicles, the dog trotting faithfully at Zadie’s side, Toby couldn’t shake the feeling that the traffic wasn’t the only thing about to change.