The chief barked, “She’s breaching perimeter—take the shot!” Fingers tightened on triggers. Tom spun, shouting desperately, “If you shoot, you’ll kill both of them—don’t you see?” His words cracked with desperation. For a moment, the rifles wavered. The city’s fate teetered on seconds of human restraint.
And then Sahara stopped, raising her head high. The crowd gasped as her gaze swept across them—predator, prisoner, sister, and survivor. She released a low, haunting moan that carried through the floodlit night. For that suspended moment, even rifles lowered slightly, held by something larger than fear: recognition.