"Did you know? Modern birds are considered the descendants of dinosaurs..."
A bizarre silence suddenly fell over the basent, punctuated only by the relentless drone of Mr. DNA from the screen.
"Hey! Hey!"
The sharp crack of Mills clapping his hands echoed through the room, a desperate bid to reclaim Carlo's attention.
"Regarding this point, multiple studies have actually proven…"
Carlo ignored him completely. His gaze remained fixed on the educational program Dr. Wu had prepared for him, the flickering white light of the television screen reflecting deep within his yellow pupils.
"I said look at , you [Civilized Language]!"
Mills barked a curse and snatched up the remote, killing the power to the TV.
"ROAR—!"
BANG!
Accompanied by a high-pitched, deafening roar, the iron bars let out a tortured shriek of protesting tal. Carlo slamd his head against the cage, the impact visibly warping the thick, straight iron rods.
Dust and stone debris crumbled from the cracks in the masonry, and the entire estate villa seed to shudder under the force of the blow.
"The Velociraptor fossils discovered by the famous paleontologist, Dr. Grant..."
The television screen flickered back to life. Under Carlo's intense stare, Mills obediently, and very carefully, placed the remote back on the table.
"Damned animal..."
Mills muttered under his breath. Glancing at the cage, which now looked entirely insufficient to contain Carlo, he turned to the guard beside him and barked an order:
"Raise the ergency defense protocols on this cell to the absolute maximum!"
With that, he turned his back on the cage. He had an auction to manage. As for Lockwood? At worst, he'd just starve that Giganotosaurus for a few days; it would eat eventually.
When the ti ca, he'd spin a story: Lockwood tragically killed in an accident while visiting his dinosaurs. The headlines would read that these beasts didn't deserve public sympathy, pinning the "cri" of the dinosaur rescue mission squarely on the old man's shoulders. Then, Mills would rightfully inherit the entire estate.
It was all so simple.
"Huff... Huff..."
Deprived of his nasal cannula, Lockwood's breathing was heavy and labored. He looked like a man with one foot already in the grave.
Yet, it seed he refused to die such a shaful death, slumped in a chair. The pride of a British Knight bolstered his fading will. Trembling, he braced his hands against the armrests of his wheelchair and tried to stand. But with the brakes tampered with by Wheatley, the chair acted like a fixed pulley losing its counterweight; it zipped backward the mont his weight shifted.
Lockwood began to pitch forward uncontrollably. For a young man, this might have resulted in a few scrapes; for him, it was a fatal blow.
"Prehistoric animals by the thousands make up the great dinosaur family. Although they are all different, they are undoubtedly among the most beautiful creatures in the world."
The basent fell silent once more, save for Mr. DNA's voice. The sound of Lockwood hitting the floor never ca.
The old man felt a solid weight against his chest and opened his eyes. He found a thick, powerful tail positioned in front of him, bracing his fall.
He looked up to find Carlo watching him, even though the dinosaur had seed entirely absorbed in the television monts before.
With the support of Carlo's tail, the old Knight straightened his spine once more.
Just as he had with the Diplodocus, Carlo showed an extraordinary level of patience toward a dying creature. Whether as a predator or simply a living soul, he possessed a strange empathy.
Except, of course, for things like the Scorpios rex.
Carlo used his tail to steady the elder Lockwood, intending to guide him toward the exit of the enclosure. But the old man didn't seem to want to leave. Instead, he slowly shuffled toward Carlo.
"Thank you..."
Carlo followed his pace, shielding him with his tail. Step by step, Lockwood drew closer to the crouching Giga. Finally, he leaned against Carlo's massive thigh and slowly lowered himself to the floor.
Lockwood opened his palm to reveal a crumpled photograph, wrinkled from being gripped so tightly. With trembling fingers, he smoothed it out. Without his glasses, the image was a blur, but he didn't need to see it; he could reconstruct every detail in his mind.
It was Maisie... or rather, his daughter, Charlotte Lockwood.
As if rembering sothing, a look of imnse pride crossed his face. He struggled to lift the photo, holding it up for Carlo to see.
"My daughter... she was one of the greats who brought the dinosaurs back to life. What do you think? Impressive, isn't it?"
Carlo tilted his head. He didn't care much for the contents of the photo, but the sight of Lockwood reminded him of the little Parasaurolophus hatchlings. He wondered how they were doing.
…
The younger Lockwood, Maisie, was currently fiddling with a wire clothes hanger, poking it up and down through the keyhole.
After Mills had caught her "touring" the basent, she had been locked away in her room.
However, Lockwood Manor was an old estate, and the locks were vintage. One didn't need the expert lockpicking skills of Brooklynn to crack them.
Clink!
Outside the door, the heavy iron skeleton key fell onto a wooden board Maisie had slid under the gap. She pulled the board back into the room, bringing the key with it.
She grabbed the key, unlocked the door, and peeked through the crack. She spotted a rcenary stationed by the stairs.
"The buyers are starting to arrive. It's going to be a full house tonight."
"Copy that."
Maisie pulled the door shut and hurried toward the balcony.
The beam of a periter searchlight swept past, montarily blinding her. She leaned against the stone railing, watching a parade of luxury vehicles roll into the estate grounds.
Impeccably dressed gentlen and ladies stepped out of the cars, heading toward the auction floor inside the villa.
"Good evening."
"Good evening."
"Welco, gentlen."
These tycoons ca from every corner of the globe, representing vastly different industries, but they were here for a single purpose: to buy a dinosaur.
"That's Richie Laszlo, the developnt rep for Aldarys Pharmaceuticals."
"Excellent."
Gunnar Eversoll, the auction specialist, stood alongside Mills at the villa entrance, greeting the guests. Fluent in multiple languages, Eversoll moved through the crowd like a fish in water, whispering introductions to Mills as he went.
"The man with the white beard is the proxy for Gregor Aldrich, the Slovenian arms dealer."
"And that's the agent for Rand Magnus, the oil tycoon from Houston."
"What are they interested in?" Mills asked.
"Their tastes are... eclectic. His child wants a baby Triceratops."
Maisie watched from above, refusing to sit idly by. She had to tell her grandfather what was happening. The vintage architecture featured decorative stone ledges protruding from the exterior walls. For a child, it was a perilous path, but it was wide enough to traverse.
"[Foreign Language]..."
Eversoll exchanged a few words with a guest from an unknown region before turning back to Mills.
"They only want to buy two carnivores. Mr. Lockwood stands to make a fortune tonight... Will he be attending?"
"I'm afraid not," Mills replied coldly.
———————
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