Then the impossible happened. The lion let out a low, rumbling sound—neither roar nor growl, but something deeper, familiar. Bella wagged her tail once, then stepped forward. Slowly, impossibly, the massive cat lowered its head and pressed its muzzle against her side. The corridor fell silent except for the storm. Someone behind Ethan sobbed. Rifles lowered.
The other lions roared from inside their enclosure, claws raking at the bars. Staff panicked, thinking an attack was imminent. But when the gates swung wide from the pressure of the storm, the lions surged out not in fury, but in recognition. They circled Bella, brushing against her, chuffing low in their throats.