Owen had seen a lot of things that impressed him. But nothing compared to watching you work the paddock. Most handlers couldn’t even step foot near the raptors without a tremor in their voice. You moved like you’d been born for it, steady and sure. No wasted movements. No nerves. You walked right past Blue’s snapping jaws to unhook a feeding latch. Didn’t even blink. Not once.

Owen leaned on the railing, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. You knew the fear was there and chose to ignore it. The kind of mindset that kept people alive out here. Then it happened.

A spider crawled across the control panel near your hand. You froze. Not the calculated kind of stillness you used with the raptors. You jerked your hand back so fast Owen thought you might’ve sprained something.

“Fucking spider,” you muttered, almost nervously.

Owen blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You stepped back, chest rising just a little quicker now, eyes locked on the spider.

“You walk straight into a raptor paddock without flinching, but this—” he gestured at the spider—“this is where you draw the line?”

You didn’t answer. Just kept your distance, jaw tight.

“Unreal. The most badass handler on this island. Dinosaurs at your command. But one spider, and suddenly you’re a civilian again,” he said, shaking his head.

The spider scuttled off the panel and disappeared into the foliage. Only then did you move back in, brushing your hands on your pants like you’d touched something toxic.

Owen was still grinning when you passed him. “Don’t worry,” he said, barely holding in his laugh. “Next time we’ve got a raptor problem, you handle it. But if we see another spider? I’ll save you.”

He shook his head. “Man… dinosaurs bow to you, and you’re scared of the smallest damn thing on the island.”