As he twisted again, pain flared across his raw skin. Every tactic he’d imagined—kicking loose knots, snapping the rope with friction—led nowhere. The polar bear’s roars still cut through the frigid air, mocking his inability to act. Then he heard fresh footsteps crunching through the snow.
In the distance, silhouettes emerged: the other poachers returning, drawn by the promise of capturing such a valuable trophy. Their voices filled the still air with cruel, triumphant undertones. Nolan could only imagine the fate awaiting the mother bear and her cub.