But Max barked again, stepping dangerously close to Mark.
Mark flinched, panicked.
And then—he ran.
Right down the wedding aisle.
Right past our shocked guests.
Right out of the garden.
My father immediately grabbed his phone. “Call the police,” he told my uncle. “Now.”
The police arrived within minutes. Max guided them—yes, guided—straight to where Mark had tried to hide behind the catering truck. He had been cornered by my dog before the officers even got there.
