The officers secured the last of the poachers, their protestations silenced by the glint of handcuffs. Some criminals tried to squirm away, but the Arctic offered nowhere to run once cornered. Nolan rubbed his wrists, feeling both exhaustion and gratitude flood through him.
One of the officers gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “You did good,” he said. “We’ve been trying to nail these poachers for ages. Thanks for the tip-off.” Nolan exhaled shakily, words failing him. The roars faded, replaced by the steady hum of relief.