Chapter 928:
Then came the sound of sirens.
A patrol helicopter, spotting the chaos from above, had summoned reinforcements. Within minutes, the villa was flooded with flashing lights and wailing alarms.
Police vehicles lined the driveway while ambulances raced to the scene.
Medics hurried to take Ella from her father. She was lifted onto a stretcher and rushed toward the waiting ambulance. The noise of engines and shouted orders filled the air, but amid all the confusion, Shaba stayed frozen. He didn’t follow Samson. Instead, he turned and padded back to Rylie.
The yard felt foreign to him, every sound sharp and unfamiliar, but Rylie carried Ella’s scent. It soothed him. The lion sank beside her, silent and watchful, guarding her as though his owner were still near.
Rylie crouched slowly, her pulse steady. For the first time, she was close enough to touch a creature that could kill a man with one strike. She extended her hand.
Shaba merely turned his great head, blowing out a slow breath through his nostrils.
A soft smile touched Rylie’s lips. “What a magnificent animal,” she thought.
Moments later, a squad of police stormed into the wrecked villa. Even the most seasoned officers stopped short at what they saw—spent shells scattered like gravel,
Blood streaked the marble. Shattered glass glittered across the floor. And there, amid the wounded and the dead, a lion stood guard—silent, immovable.
Upstairs, Deandre’s men released the terrified wealthy hostages. They stumbled down the stairs, shouting for help, their suits rumpled and faces drained of color.
Despite their disheveled appearance, the police easily identified them as victims.
Still, the sight made their expressions tighten. It was clear this would be no simple case.
Kailee was the daughter of the Investigation Bureau’s chief. Felipe stood next in line to inherit a multinational conglomerate. Shaun was the founder’s son from a high-tech firm. Jennifer belonged to a long-running political dynasty.
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Yet all of them shared a public role as Animal Welfare Ambassadors for their regions—and core members of a high-profile international protection group.
Behind each name sat a web of influence and power.
By contrast, Deandre—nursing a bullet wound in his shoulder, his suit rumpled—stood beside Rylie, who bore only a few scratches and specks of blood that made her look oddly ordinary.
“Everyone. Drop your weapons. Hands on your head!” the lead officer barked, his voice tight as he took in the lion baring its teeth.
Deandre signaled his men to comply, and the Costa members obeyed, keeping wary eyes on the officers.
Rylie set her empty pistol on the floor without a tremor.
The officers moved in with practiced speed, snapping cuffs onto Deandre and the Costa fighters.
No one stepped close to Rylie. The lion at her side guarded her, his head pressed to her chest, warning off anyone who thought to act hastily.
Shooting the lion would mean breaking laws protecting endangered species.
After a tense pause, Rylie patted Shaba and soothed him. “I promised Ella you’d come back to her. You will. Right now, I have to handle this.”
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