Predator

43

Amelia's words caught in her throat, the moment interrupted by a knock at the door. Standing outside was a Kenyan mercenary holding a black cloth bag. He unzipped it slightly in front of Liam, and a thick smell of blood filled the room.

The familiar scent triggered familiar memories. The first time Amelia had ventured into the black market, disguised as an experienced buyer, a vendor had grinned at her, showing white teeth. "You? Want to see some good stuff? Fresh."

At the door, Liam glanced quickly into the bag, his gaze sweeping over Amelia, who sat on the bed looking pale. He zipped the bag closed, sealing the white, curved ivory tinged with flesh, and took it from the mercenary. "I understand."

...

As they left the factory, Mike, the elephant, lay docile in a corner, his eyes closed, his short tail flicking irritably. It wasn't until Amelia's figure became a small black dot that he slowly opened his eyes, his mouth trembling slightly, letting out a faint elephantine sound.

In the darkness, the sound of mechanical prosthetics hitting the ground was heavy. His blue eyes met the wet, elephantine gaze, looking not just at a valuable commodity but at an enemy. "Don't worry, it's her turn first, and soon it will be yours."

...

At the end of the road lay Kenya's largest black market. After being confined for so long, the outside world seemed unchanged. Rhino horns, lion teeth, ivory, and cleaned animal skins were everywhere, but there wasn't a single living creature from the savannah. Executioners mingled in the noisy market, their faces covered except for their sharp eyes, nervously searching for trading partners.

Liam pulled out two handkerchiefs from his pocket, carefully covering Amelia's beautiful face. "Stick close to me and don't do anything stupid." This was his warning.

Amelia didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the northwest corner of the market where a tall, thin Kenyan youth stood, his face also covered. His eyes, filled with shock, were locked on them, watching for who knew how long.

Liam followed her gaze and ruffled her soft hair. "Don't worry, he's the buyer." Amelia wasn't afraid. When Liam turned around, the young man's eyes lit up with joy, and he subtly signaled: SOS.

This was the third time Amelia had met him. The first two times, this young man, whose real name was Danny, had worn a white-washed shirt with a small "KWS" emblem on the collar. KWS stood for Kenya Wildlife Service, a social wildlife association in Kenya. He had often agreed with her, "The fundamental solution to stopping the slaughter is to cut off the black market at its source."

Now, with Liam standing between them, Danny watched as Liam unzipped the black bag slightly, offering a glimpse. "Checking the goods?"

Amelia's palm was sweaty, her eyes following Liam's movements closely. He usually kept his gun at his waist and a knife in his chest pocket, ready to pull out a steel blade at the first sign of trouble. This wasn't the ideal moment for her to escape. Surrounded by notorious poachers, a wildlife worker would be like a sheep walking into a wolf's den.

Don't act rashly, she thought. Danny, don't get discovered.