Chapter 912:
From inside the reserve, Marlin Schmidt glanced at the empty truck parked nearby. “What are you talking about? The lion’s already in the hunting grounds, and the truck’s being serviced. There was no girl. Did you say he brought a young woman with him?”
The guard’s eyes flicked toward Rylie. “Yes.”
Marlin’s tone sharpened. “Make sure she’s not a reporter. Tell him there’s no girl here and send them away. No one enters today. Understood?”
The guard clicked off the radio and returned to the car. “I spoke with the driver from this morning,” he said stiffly. “He swears he didn’t see any girl. Maybe your daughter got off somewhere else. You’d better keep looking.”
Samson opened his mouth to argue, but the guard cut him off and motioned for him to leave.
Samson’s jaw tightened as he turned the car around. Rylie watched him in silence for a moment before asking, “Is there another way in?”
“There is,” Samson replied, his voice low. “A reserve this big can’t be sealed off completely. Poachers manage to get through all the time. We’ll find a way.”
A few minutes later, Samson pulled up beside a thin grove of birch trees. The fence there was weaker—patched and sagging. He got out, examined the spot, and pried open a section wide enough for a person to slip through.
Samson gripped his rifle and slipped through the opening, glancing back as Rylie followed close behind. “You should head back,” he said. “I’ll find my daughter myself. The ground here’s rough, and wild animals roam freely.”
Rylie adjusted the camera strapped to her chest and pressed the record button. “Don’t worry. I’m not afraid.”
Seeing her resolve, Samson didn’t argue. His thoughts were fixed entirely on Ella. Nothing else mattered.
They moved quietly through the birch grove, their boots sinking into damp soil. Behind them, faint rustling hinted that others had found the same way in.
𝔤𝓪𝓵𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓼.𝓬𝓸𝓶 – more stories here
Half an hour later, a sharp crack split the stillness.
Samson froze. His face drained of color. “That’s a hunting rifle,” he whispered. “I know that sound. Someone’s hunting in here.”
Rylie tugged him down and guided him forward through the undergrowth. Following the noise, she kept her steps silent until they crouched behind a low rise.
Beyond the slope, a gnu lay sprawled across the grass, blood spreading in dark pools beneath its flank.
“They’re using the reserve as a hunting ground,” Samson muttered, his voice thick with disgust.
The rumble of engines rolled across the plains. Two ATVs burst through the brush and stopped beside the dying animal. Men in camouflage jumped off, their laughter sharp against the wind as they snapped photos beside the carcass.
“See that gnu? No matter how fast it ran, it couldn’t dodge a bullet!” one shouted.
“The next one’s that new lion,” another said with a grin. “Heard it’s a real fighter. Wonder who’ll bag the trophy, eh?”
Samson’s breath quickened. His hand inched toward his rifle, but Rylie caught it and held tight.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
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