The air was thick with the damp scent of jungle, mingling with the metallic tang of iron fences and the faint musk of animals. Humidity clung to everything, making the gravel path glisten in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. In the distance, the hum of generators and the chirps of distant pterosaurs blended with low growls from the pen. The raptors stirred behind reinforced barriers, their sleek forms prowling, claws clicking on the ground. Owen Grady stood at the railing, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, scanning both the creatures and the space around them. There was no such thing as too careful here.

Then she walked in.

The crunch of boots on gravel drew his attention, steady but hesitant, like a heartbeat finding its rhythm. She moved with purpose but caution, her presence breaking the stillness of the moment. Sunlight streaked through the canopy, catching stray wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail. Her uniform, nearly identical to his, bore creases from travel, and in her hands, a notepad worn smooth at the edges. The faint smell of paper and graphite reached him, oddly grounding in the wild chaos of the jungle.

“You must be Grady,” she said, her voice soft yet certain, laced with an accent he couldn’t quite place.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her steady posture. “And you’re the new biologist.”

Her attention shifted to the raptors. Charlie let out a low hiss, her yellow eyes narrowing at the newcomer. The air between them thickened, tension rippling like a predator sensing something unfamiliar.

“Velociraptors,” she murmured, a mix of awe and apprehension in her voice. Her grip on the notepad tightened, but her feet didn’t falter as she took a step closer to the pen. “They’re magnificent.”

“And deadly,” Owen added, his voice edged with authority. “Respect’s the first rule here. Step out of line, and they’ll remind you why they’re the top of the food chain.”