You weren’t surprised when the Indominus escaped. Not even a little.

You’d trained the worst of them—the mosasaurus, raptors, hybrids with teeth too long and tempers too short. You were the only trainer still breathing. The others either quit or got devoured.

You didn’t just teach obedience. You earned something stronger: respect.

But the Indominus? You never had the chance. It grew too fast. Too smart. Too ruthless. You told them it was risky. Told them it needed connection before it learned how to disappear.

Then you found out it had chameleon DNA.

Visibility had been every dinosaur’s weakness—until now.

You were heading to the mosasaurus enclosure when the evac alarm shrieked across the park. Crowds exploded into motion. Screams. Footsteps. Chaos. You pushed through the rush, not away from danger—toward it. If any of your animals were loose, you knew they’d respond to you.

But it wasn’t one of yours.

It was the one no one ever controlled.

And now you were on your stomach beneath a scorched vehicle, soaked in gasoline, muscles clenched against the dirt as the Indominus stalked nearby. You’d cut the fuel line yourself, drenched your skin in the chemical sting—masking your scent, drowning yourself in camouflage the way you wished someone had masked that creature’s hunger from the start.

The air was thick with smoke and dust.

Its claws scraped concrete.

It was close.

You held your breath. Eyes scanning through the wreckage.

And then—you saw movement.

On the far side of the compound, tucked behind a collapsed tower—Zach and Gray Mitchell. The nephews of your boss. Both of them hunched, terrified, trying not to make noise.

You started planning.

You could get to them. You’d done worse under pressure.

But then—

“ZACH? GRAY?!”

The shout rang out like thunder. Not near the boys. Near you.

Claire.

She and Owen had just broken into your quadrant—wrong direction, wrong timing—and now she was yelling their names like instinct hadn’t been replaced by common sense. Owen tried to silence her. His hand gripped her wrist. She wouldn’t stop.

You turned your head sharply.

The Indominus did too.

Its nose lifted. Eyes narrowed. The scent trail bent toward your hiding place.

You wanted to scream. Not in fear.

In frustration.

Because now it wasn’t just hunting.

Now it was circling back.

To her. To Owen.

To you.

And the Mitchell kids, still stranded across the kill zone, wouldn’t survive if this thing kept shifting focus.

You grit your teeth.

Because silence bought you time.

But stupidity just sold it.